#who also rarely listens but better than nothing

[anbaisai]

someone mentioned floyd on my last post and gave me the motivation to finally draw this image summarizing floyd & mayu's dynamic (although whether he feels up to it is like 50/50)

[andvys]

You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party? 

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do. 

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest. 

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon. 

 A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom. 

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you. 

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one. 

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel. 

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered. 

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t. 

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together. 

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant. 

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more. 

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer. 

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time. 

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together. 

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget. 

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel. 

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake. 

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it. 

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t. 

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him. 

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets. 

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one. 

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you. 

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy. 

You got him bad. 

You made him fall in love. 

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid. 

And you did the same to him. 

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends. 

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college. 

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of. 

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take. 

But now you are here, you are back. 

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly. 

One year, one whole year without you. 

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here. 

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in. 

You are so gorgeous. 

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves. 

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly. 

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard. 

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school. 

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle. 

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor. 

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch. 

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again. 

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college. 

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip. 

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere. 

Steve. 

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good. 

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat. 

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.” 

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left. 

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his. 

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands. 

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was. 

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily. 

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change. 

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place. 

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement. 

You nod, probably a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him. 

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes. 

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.” 

Not the move? He repeats in his head. 

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return. 

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.” 

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist. 

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you. 

Did he miss you like you missed him? 

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion. 

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most. 

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly. 

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness. 

Did you just make Steve blush? 

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face. 

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.” 

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look. 

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting. 

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs. 

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong. 

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further. 

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you. 

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him. 

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest. 

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look. 

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him. 

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften. 

“I’m sorry about him.” 

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.” 

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you. 

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen. 

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?” 

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy. 

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense. 

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months. 

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again. 

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him. 

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash. 

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you. 

She knows all about you. 

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets. 

She knows how much he missed you. 

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you. 

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look. 

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly. 

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’ 

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand. 

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile. 

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together. 

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. 

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel. 

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness. 

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one. 

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you. 

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back. 

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head. 

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back. 

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip. 

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong. 

“Steve?” 

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.” 

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. 

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you. 

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering. 

And this is exactly what you always adored about him. 

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him. 

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light. 

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough. 

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed. 

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips. 

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past. 

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him. 

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you. 

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone? 

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman? 

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now. 

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself. 

“Do you have anyone?” 

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands. 

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?” 

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip. 

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together. 

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?” 

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips. 

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted. 

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later. 

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you. 

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.” 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you. 

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers. 

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question. 

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you. 

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one. 

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

You nod, swallowing harshly. 

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds. 

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked. 

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked. 

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago. 

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to. 

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. 

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side. 

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body. 

And through his. 

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again. 

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you. 

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him. 

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted. 

“Why didn’t he feel right?” 

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before. 

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong. 

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before. 

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again. 

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right. 

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again. 

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t. 

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him. 

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they? 

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then? 

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears. 

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would. 

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.” 

His parents. 

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him. 

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him. 

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you. 

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again. 

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.” 

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?” 

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment. 

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever? 

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily. 

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets. 

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard. 

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment. 

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again. 

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt. 

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest. 

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now. 

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you. 

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace. 

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm? 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more. 

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.  

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other. 

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect. 

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving. 

Everything around you stops. 

Just absolutely everything. 

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his. 

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality. 

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all. 

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows. 

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses. 

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin. 

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home. 

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe. 

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you… 

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar. 

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.” 

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before. 

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly. 

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs. 

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him. 

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This will turn into more, so much more. 

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night. 

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first. 

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips. 

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly. 

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours. 

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.” 

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love. 

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it. 

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you? 

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever. 

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back. 

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s. 

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go. 

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone. 

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him. 

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again. 

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood. 

[brokenmenswhore]

not enough jace requests you say? 🧐 how about Jace ends up marrying aegons twin sister as a way to prevent war but the whole time he compares her to baela and is upset since baela was who he was supposed to marry. Reader then overhears what he says about her and realizes it will never be a marriage of love, only duty- so she starts being cold to him and he realizes he messed up

this is formatted as a drabble :)

could have | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: just a lil angst

────── ☾ ──────

You were always second-best. You were Aegon’s twin sister, and your family revolved around Aegon. Aegon the eldest, Aegon the rightful heir to the throne, Aegon the pinnacle of the Greens.

You were not simply you, but the better half of him. You were always Aegon’s sister, the other one who shared his birth date. Your side of the family always prioritized Aegon, your mother especially. The closer Rhaenyra got to the throne, the more she wanted Aegon on it.

You did not want your brother on the throne. Being that your minds were connected, you knew him better than anyone, and therefore, you knew better than anyone that he should not be left in charge of ruling an entire realm.

That is why your betrothal to Jacaerys was a positive for you: it prevented a war that would occur if your mother pushed Aegon on the throne. It also allowed for you to reside with the other side of your family, a side that knew Rhaenyra deserved the throne, and a side that could hopefully see you as something other than second-best to Aegon.

You quickly felt like second-best to someone else upon your arrival to Dragonstone.

You felt guilty when your betrothal to Jacaerys was announced. You knew he was already betrothed to Baela Targaryen, and you hoped that another match for Baela would be announced shortly to absolve you of that guilt.

When you first arrived in Dragonstone, you met Baela, and immediately apologized for ruining her betrothal. Regardless of you or Jacaerys’s feelings about the matter, this was not up to you, so you had no choice. Baela understood, and she held no resentment toward you. She cared for Jacaerys, but not marrying him did not mean changing that, so she was alright with it.

Jacaerys, however, was very professional with you at all times. Despite your predicament, there was always a wall up with him. Up until your wedding day, you barely spoke, and when you did, he was Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, never just Jace. Not the way he was with Baela.

You desperately wanted to know the man you were to marry. If you were to spend the rest of your life with him, proving him with heirs, and taking care of his every need as a husband, you wished to get along. You craved a connection that was rarely found, but you were determined.

You would try to catch him reading in the library, alone in his chambers, or getting ready in the morning, but when he wasn’t alone, he was with Baela. You could tell they had a strong connection, and you still felt bad for breaking their betrothal, but part of you was also annoyed. Jacaerys was now your betrothed, and that should be you occupying his time.

You could sense that Jacaerys was upset with your arrangement. He did not avoid you, but did not seek you out.

In his mind, he was subconsciously comparing you to Baela. He was finding any reason to continue being upset about your arrangement. There was nothing practically wrong with you, but he wanted what he had expected his entire life. He wanted what could have been. He would listen to you speak during council, which Rhaenyra insisted you attend due to the influx of information about the Greens you could provide, and he would consider if Baela would say the same. He would try to picture you as his wife, and it would not make his heart swell the way it did when he pictured the same of Baela.

Still, you held out hope that your marriage could be more than a political alliance. You were going to spend the rest of your life with him, and you craved some sort of romantic or lustful connection. He was handsome, that much was agreed upon by most, and you loved his passion and confidence.

He barely spoke to you on the day of your wedding.

He spoke his vows as if he were giving a political speech. You only saw him smile when commonfolk approached the table to congratulate you two, and you could tell it was disingenuous.

When it came time for the bedding ceremony, you refused to undress. Jacaerys sat on the bed, confusion evident on his face. Even though he said it was important to consummate the marriage, you said you did not wish to force him, and you would simply tell everyone you did your duty. You left the room before either of you began to undress.

Despite your new marital state, things did not change. You tried to reach out to Jacaerys, but he pulled back.

You felt your heart sink when you walked past his chambers and overheard him speaking to someone about you.

“I just cannot help but wonder what could have been if things did not have to change. I will continue to do my duty as a husband, but that is all I have in me.”

You swallowed back tears. You always held out hope that things would shift, even if only a little, but it was hopeless. Your marriage would never be one of love, it would only be one of duty.

Hearing his words confirm it as such was enough for you to decide to pull back. If he had no intention of trying, there was no point in your doing so.

You began to be cold to Jacaerys, giving him the same attention he gave you, which was practically none.

He would greet during the beginning of council meetings, and you would ignore him.

He would pull out your chair for you, like a dutiful husband does, and you would say a simple “thank you” and sit.

You no longer made the effort to ask him how his food was at supper. You no longer made the effort to help him with his clothing pins in the morning.

When you were getting ready to sleep one night, Jacaerys actually spoke to you.

“What troubles you as of late?” he asked.

You acted nonchalant, continuing to brush out your hair. “What do you mean?”

“You seem off.”

“I am simply doing my duty, and nothing more.” You somewhat spat the words out, your tone laced with venom.

Jacaerys was taken aback by your candor. “If that is how you wish for this marriage to be, then so be it.”

You turned in your chair to face him. “I am not the one who wishes for a strictly dutiful marriage, Jacaerys.”

“Meaning?” he responded, “I do not wish to live out the rest of my days in a constant state of nothingness.”

“That is not what you have been saying.”

“To what are you referring?”

You sighed. “Jacaerys, I know you wish you had the opportunity to marry Baela. I am sure she knows it too. However, I do think it disrespectful to so openly complain about our courtship.”

Jacaerys knew what you were referring to. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath while you continued to brush your hair in the silence.

“I did not intend for you to hear it,” he spoke.

“Evidently.”

“I know I’ve ruined things.”

You stopped your actions. You put your brush down, standing and walking over to him. “I only wish to please you, as your wife. I apologize that I am not the woman you intended yourself for.”

You touched his hand, holding it in your own briefly before taking residence on the bed.

Jacaerys watched you, unsure of what to do.

“You may join me, if you’d like,” you stated.

Jacaerys sat on the edge of the bed and turned toward you, giving you a small smile.

[surielstea]

Embers Entwined

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader was one of the most affected by Beron’s rule, after his death Eris was crowned High Lord and Reader became his personal servant by extension, what happens when she begins to recognize Eris for his kindness and not his cruelty?

Warnings: Beron being a right asshole as usual, and some kissing (*gasp* the scandal!)

A.Note: Sorry it’s been forever!! This one took me awhile but I’m pretty happy with it. Hope you guys enjoy too! Some Azriel smut coming out in a few days also! 💋💋

Word count: 7.9k

The ball was decadent, far grander than in previous years, though I supposed tonight warranted the excess. A special occasion, one that carried far more meaning than the usual frivolous gatherings meant only to remind the rich of their own wealth.

Tonight, the Autumn Court celebrated the coronation of Eris Vanserra. More importantly to me, we celebrated Beron's death.

I would never say such a thing aloud, never give voice to the hatred that simmered in my veins. But I knew I was not alone in my sentiments. Most despised that wretched male—just not enough to ever act against him. Beron had been cruel, but only to those within his grasp. His wife. His sons. His staff. Me, in particular—his personal courtier.

It had been my duty to obey him without question, to smile and nod and endure, no matter what vile thing he asked of me. The words he'd spoken to me, the way he'd toyed with me, broken me, forced me into submission—I would never find peace after him. I knew that.

I stood against the wall of the ballroom, my hands clasped in front of me, a pleasant, vacant smile painted on my lips. The same as always. My black dress marked me as staff, distinguishing me from the nobles twirling beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers. It wasn't an ugly dress—not physically—but the symbolism it carried made my stomach churn.

I was meant to be invisible. To stand for hours, heels biting into my feet, lips aching from feigned delight, waiting. Always waiting for the High Lord's command. That was my place.

But tonight, for the first time at an event like this, someone spoke to me. Not just someone. The newly crowned High Lord.

"Do you not wish to dance?"

His voice was smoother than I expected, rich and effortless, as though the words required no thought. When I turned my head, Eris Vanserra stood before me, resplendent in his deep forest green attire, gold-threaded embroidery glinting beneath the chandeliers. Rings adorned his fingers, catching the light as he gestured vaguely toward the center of the ballroom.

I had known Eris Vanserra since I was a girl—back when my father served as Beron's personal courtier and I trained under him, shadowing his every move. In those early years, Eris and I spent countless hours in the kennels, where I had been sent to feed the hounds, and he had sought my company. Even then, I knew better than to refuse a Vanserra. But it hadn't felt like an order. Not when he spoke so passionately about his dogs, his amber eyes alight with something rare and unguarded.

I had listened, quietly captivated, as he ran his hands through thick fur, naming each hound like they were something precious, something his father could not tarnish. And though I rarely spoke, I knew he never minded.

But time had a way of reshaping things. Our duties grew heavier, our paths diverged, and whatever thread had once tied us together frayed beneath the weight of expectation. I often wondered if he remembered—the girl who once sat beside him in the straw-covered kennels, listening in rapt silence as he spoke of things he loved. Or if I had faded into nothing more than a ghost of his childhood, long forgotten.

I snapped back to the present when I realized my hesitation, startled by his presence, by his question. By him.

I glanced at him only briefly before averting my gaze. I had long since learned better than to expect kindness from the Vanserras, Eris or not. "I'm working, my lord," I answered smoothly, forcing the usual mask into place. "Besides, the late Lord Beron was always particular about the servantry enjoying themselves at these sorts of things."

A flicker of something crossed Eris's face at my words. Perhaps it was amusement, perhaps something else. I wasn't certain. Then, he did something I never would have expected. He extended his hand to me, palm up. A silent command. I stared at it, my heart stuttering.

Was this a trick? A test? Was he waiting for me to disobey so he could remind me of my place? "Well," he mused, tilting his head, "I'm not Beron, am I?"

I swallowed thickly, but I did not take his hand. His amber eyes gleamed as he studied me, something unreadable lurking beneath their molten depths. "You were my father's personal courtier, yes?"

"Correct, my lord."

"And now that he's gone, you're mine." A statement, not a question.

I nodded.

"And you're required to do as I say."

Another nod.

"Then take my hand." His voice was softer now, quieter. "Dance with me." My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated. Was he attempting to humiliate me?

I had seen what his brothers were capable of, how they had reveled in Beron's cruelty, how they had wielded it against others for their own entertainment. I had heard the stories about Eris—his ruthlessness, his ambition, his callous disregard for those beneath him. I had no reason to believe he was any different.

Yet something about the way he stood there, hand still outstretched, gaze unwavering, made my stomach tighten. He wasn't forcing me. He wasn't demanding. He was patient. I hated him for that. For making me doubt my own certainty.

But in the end, I had no choice. With a deep inhale, I placed my hand in his. His fingers curled around mine—warm, steady. Not gripping. But I knew better than to believe in illusions.

Eris Vanserra was his father's son. And I would never trust him.

The moment my hand settled in his, a hush seemed to fall over the space around us—not total silence, but a ripple in the atmosphere, a shift in attention that pressed against my skin like a physical thing.

They were watching. The nobles, the courtiers, the sycophants who had spent years learning to fear and obey Beron, and by extension, his eldest son. They watched, likely waiting for me to make a mistake, waiting to see what game Eris Vanserra was playing.

I was waiting, too. But if this was some cruel trick, he did not let it show.

Eris led me toward the dance floor with unhurried ease, his grip firm but not forceful. A reminder, perhaps, that I was following him willingly. I didn't know what unsettled me more—that he had given me a real choice, or that, despite knowing better, a part of me wanted to believe he truly meant no harm.

The moment we stepped onto the floor, the nearest dancers shifted subtly away, giving us space without making it obvious. No one wanted to be caught in the High Lord's wake, in whatever he was planning.

He turned to face me, releasing my hand only to settle one warm palm against my waist, the other clasping mine once more. I stiffened beneath his touch, the weight of it burning even through the fabric of my dress.

"Relax," he murmured, amusement curling through his tone. "It's a dance, not an execution."

I forced my muscles to remain neutral, my expression placid, though I could still feel the weight of a hundred gazes searing into me. "That remains to be seen."

His lips curved slightly. "If I wanted to make a spectacle of you, I'd have chosen something far more dramatic." He guided me into movement, a slow, fluid step that I had no choice but to follow. "But I much prefer this."

I nearly scoffed, but reeled in my tone, replacing it with a polite one. "Dancing?"

His gaze flickered down to mine, something unreadable within it. "Yes," he admitted, voice quieter now. "It's one of the few things I enjoy."

I arched a brow at him, skepticism bleeding into my tone. "Truly?"

"Truly." A small pause, then, "My mother taught me."

His hold on my waist remained steady, his movements effortless as he guided me through the waltz. "She used to say that knowing how to dance was just as important as knowing how to wield a blade. Both would assist me on a battle field."

I couldn't stop the flicker of surprise at his admission. Not because I doubted his mother's wisdom—if anything, I had always pitied the Lady of Autumn, the horrors she must have endured under Beron's rule—but because I had not expected Eris to share something so personal.

And yet, before I could decide how to respond, he added, "It was the one thing Beron couldn't take from me."

I swallowed, focusing on my movements, on the way his body angled just to keep me steady, to keep the dance seamless.

He was watching me closely, I could feel it. I hated that I could feel it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice quieter than before, as if the words might shatter between us.

His lips twitched, though there was something different in his expression now. A quiet sort of challenge. "Because you're expecting me to be my father."

I stiffened.

"I'm not," he continued, tone smooth, unwavering. "And I think you already know that."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing down the retort that sat at the edge of my tongue. I wanted to deny it.

Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I had no reason to believe him, that I had no reason to trust him. That, after what I had endured, I had no space left in me for blind hope. But I couldn't. Because, for the first time, I allowed myself to see him—not the heir of Beron Vanserra, not the male who had stood by and done nothing while his father ruled with malice, but the High Lord before me now.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous, cunning, and far too quick-witted for his own good. But he was not his father. And as much as I hated it, as much as it made something twist deep in my chest—

He was also undeniably beautiful.

His russet hair gleamed beneath the chandelier light, his sharp, angular features like something carved from fine marble. And those eyes—deep amber, filled with fire and calculation, but not cruelty. Never cruelty. It unnerved me.

I averted my gaze, the pressure in my throat tightening. "I don't know anything."

His fingers flexed slightly against my waist, the only indication that he had caught the tremor in my voice.

"You will," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. A promise.

I did not know whether it was a comfort or a threat. But I did know one thing—

The game, whatever it was, had only just begun.

As the waltz came to an end, Eris's grip on me loosened, but he did not immediately step away. His amber eyes remained locked onto mine, searching, calculating—always calculating.

I did not look away. I refused to.

Even as my heart pounded against my ribs, even as my throat tightened with the weight of memories that clawed at the back of my mind, I held his gaze.

He exhaled softly, something almost amused flickering in his expression before he lifted my hand, his touch lingering just enough to send a sharp jolt of awareness through me.

Then, with a deliberate slowness that sent heat curling in my gut, Eris pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

A calculated move. A display of power.

And yet—his lips were warm. Gentle.

He let my hand slip from his grasp, stepping back with an air of ease, as though he had not just sent my already-frazzled mind into chaos.

"Thank you for the dance," he murmured, voice like silk and embers.

I said nothing. Because I couldn't. I simply bowed my head and turned away, ignoring the stares, the whispers that followed me as I slipped back into the shadows of the ballroom.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous. And not for the reasons I had always believed.

I had not been able to get him out of my head.

I hated it.

No matter how much I tried to shove the thoughts away—to remind myself of the horrors I had endured under Beron, of the way his sons had stood idly by for years, of the haunting whispers that surrounded Eris himself—I couldn't stop replaying that moment in my mind.

The warmth of his touch. The softness of his voice. The way he had looked at me, not with hatred, not with indifference, but with something else entirely.

It was a trick. Had to be. And yet, I found myself watching him more than I should have.

Every time he called for something, every time I had to be in his presence, I bowed low, just as I had always done for Beron. I kept my voice neutral, my head down, my routine unchanged.

As if nothing had changed at all. As if I had not danced with him. As if his hands had not burned against my skin. As if I had not spent the past few days wondering, against all reason, if perhaps he was not as evil as I had once believed.

I would not let myself believe it. Not when I had learned, time and time again, that kindness was a dangerous illusion.

So when one of the guards found me in the halls, stopping me with a clipped, "The High Lord is requesting you," a cold dread curled in my stomach.

Requesting me. Not a general summons for any courtiers. Not a task that could have been handled by anyone else. Me.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Memories crashed through me—memories of Beron's summons, of being called for with no warning, no explanation. Of standing before him, knowing what was coming but never being able to predict just how bad it would be.

My hands clenched at my sides. I swallowed hard, pushing down the panic, shoving it deep beneath layers of practiced control.

This was not Beron. I knew that. And yet, my body did not.

With carefully measured steps, I made my way to Eris's study, every inch of me wound tight.

My mind whispered warnings, my heart pounded against my ribs. I forced my hands to remain steady as I knocked once, then pushed the heavy wooden door open.

And there he was—seated behind a grand desk, amber eyes lifting to meet mine the second I entered.

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn.

And the male who, for reasons I could not begin to understand, had called for me.

I braced myself, preparing for whatever awaited me next. And prayed that I was not about to be proven a fool.

The door shut behind me with a soft thud, the sound too final, too reminiscent of a past I wanted to claw away from.

I stayed near the entrance, hands clasped in front of me, chin dipped ever so slightly—not meek, but neutral. Just as I had been trained to be.

Eris sat at his desk, one elbow braced on the armrest of his chair, fingers resting against his temple as he watched me. Not impatient. Not cruel. Just watching. Then, with that signature tilt of his head, he asked, "What's your name?"

I blinked. "My name?"

He arched a golden brow, the flickering candlelight making the sharp angles of his face seem all the more severe.

"I'd like to know who to call for to keep my company, so yes, your name."

Company. Was this a game? A test?

I studied him, searching for the trap, but found nothing except expectation.

I told him my name carefully, waiting for the moment his expression would shift, for him to sneer or mock or twist the knowledge into something mean.

But he only smiled slightly, a soft curve of his lips that felt almost out of place on a face like his.

Before I could think better of it, before I could convince myself to stay silent, I blurted, "Have you been lonely, my lord?"

Eris's head tilted further, amusement flashing in his amber eyes.

I stiffened immediately. "Forgive me for asking. That was incredibly impolite. I'm so—"

"I have." He cut me off smoothly, his voice quieter now, but no less firm.

I swallowed.

"I imagined being High Lord would be quite different," he mused, gaze flickering to the stacks of papers on his desk, the glowing hearth, the empty room around us. "Nevertheless, here we are." He nodded as if conceding something to himself.

My lips parted slightly, but I had nothing to say to that. Nothing that wouldn't cross a line I was still hesitant to even approach.

Instead, I dropped into another practiced bow. "Will that be all, my lord?"

His eyes snapped back to me, something unreadable stirring behind them.

"Eris," he corrected.

I hesitated.

"I am not my father," he said, voice quiet but edged with finality, as if he were daring me to argue. "Nor do I wish to become him. So please, call me Eris."

I nodded slowly. "...Well then, Lord Eris."

"Just Eris, my dear," he corrected again, leaning back slightly. "Like friends."

I didn't know what startled me more—that he wanted me to call him by his name, or that he had referred to me as a friend.

Still, I tried to ignore the warmth curling in my stomach as I forced myself to say, "Eris."

His lips twitched, something satisfied gleaming in his gaze. "Good girl."

The praise sent something unfamiliar down my spine, not in the way it had whenever Beron complimented me... this was different.

"Now come, get comfortable." He gestured toward the plush green chairs adjacent to his desk.

I stared at him. "You want me to sit?"

"Stand, lean, lay, I don't care." He waved a lazy hand. "Just relax."

"My lord—Eris," I corrected, still trying to wrap my mind around the strangeness of this entire interaction. "I don't get paid to... relax."

He smirked. "No, you get paid to follow my orders. And I am ordering you to get comfortable."

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to decipher the true meaning behind all of this.

But I saw no malice in his expression. No cruel intent. Just anticipation.

I swallowed and, slowly, I did as he said. I sat stiffly, hands clasped in my lap, my back straight as if Beron himself was still lurking behind me, waiting to scold me for stepping out of line.

Eris, however, did not acknowledge my rigid posture. He only let out a pleased hum, as if my mere presence was enough to meet whatever unspoken standard he had set for this moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he returned his focus to the parchment before him.

The only sounds in the room were the quiet scratching of his quill and the faint crackling of the candlelight.

I should have been grateful for the silence. It was better than savage words, better than commands meant to humiliate me. But instead, an odd tension settled in my chest, as if I were waiting for the real reason he'd called me here to be revealed.

Minutes passed. Then—

"You're staring," Eris murmured without looking up.

I blinked, feeling heat creep up my neck. "I am not."

His lips curved slightly, and he flipped to another parchment. "You are."

"I was merely looking in your direction." It was wrong of me to talk back, but something about him let my tongue a little looser, he didn't seem displeased by it in the slightest.

He hummed, unconvinced, dipping his quill back into ink. "And why, pray tell, were you looking in my direction?"

I hesitated. "...I was thinking."

Amber eyes flicked up from the page. "Dangerous habit."

That small smirk still played on his lips, but something about it was softer than usual, teasing rather than taunting.

I frowned, not ready for this interaction to feel comfortable, for me to feel comfortable. "I don't find it particularly dangerous."

"That's because you've never played with fire." He twirled the quill between his fingers before dragging the tip across the parchment again. "Not the kind that burns."

I scoffed. "You forget who I served before you."

He paused at that, glancing at me fully and my heart rate spiked. Too far, I'd gone too far, just a few words and the walls I built were crumbling before my very eyes.

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could place it. Instead, he dipped his head slightly, understanding the point. "Then I imagine you know better than most that fire, when wielded incorrectly, only ever destroys."

I stiffened, his words striking something deep within me.

Is that what I was? A thing destroyed? Is that what he saw when looking at me, or himself?

Eris exhaled, shifting his focus back to his work. "For what it's worth," he murmured, quieter now, "I don't intend to wield it incorrectly."

I studied him carefully, as I had done many times before, searching for the game, for the cruel edge I knew so well from his father.

But there was no trick. Only a High Lord—no, a male—focused on his work, offering me something I had never once been granted in Beron's court.

Peace.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away, to ignore the unfamiliar warmth creeping into my bones.

Minutes passed again in silence, but this time, it didn't feel quite so heavy.

"I was serious, you know," Eris mused, not bothering to look up as he broke the quiet.

I frowned. "About what?"

"Keeping my company." He flipped to another document, signing something at the bottom. "I'd prefer your presence over my advisors any day. They're old and dull. You, at least, have some spirit."

I scoffed. "I think you are confusing obedience for spirit."

"Oh no, my dear." His lips curved in a knowing smirk. "You and I both know you're anything but obedient."

I bristled, opening my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "It's alright. I find it... refreshing."

I wasn't sure what unsettled me more—the implication, or the way my stomach twisted at his words. Beron preferred all the servantry to have a fiery spirit, which makes it more fun to break, but he never really could stomp my flames out, and now Eris was sparking the embers. It was dangerous, so dangerous.

Silence fell between us once more.

For a moment, I thought that would be the end of it. That I would sit there, a piece of furniture in this room while he worked, just as I had been in Beron's court.

But then, without looking away from his parchment, Eris murmured, "Tell me something, Fawn."

The way he said that nickname—so deliberate, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue—sent something sharp down my spine.

"Tell you what?" I asked carefully.

He leaned back slightly, fingers steepled in thought. "Something real."

I hesitated. "That's vague."

"Intentionally so." He arched a brow. "Consider it a challenge."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only waited, watching me with that same expectant look, as if he truly wanted to hear something about me.

I exhaled. "I don't like the cold."

His lips twitched. "A courtier of Autumn who doesn't like the cold? Shocking, really." His voice was sarcastic, but something in his eyes told me he knew what I meant.

I shrugged, explaining anyway. "It reminds me of your father." The words left me before I could stop them, before I could think better of them.

Eris didn't flinch, but something in his expression shifted. "I hate the cold, too," he admitted after a beat.

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

He returned his attention to the paper in front of him, but his next words were soft, almost contemplative.

"It's why I keep the fire going."

And despite everything I had come to know about Eris Vanserra—despite everything I feared—those words stayed with me long after I left his study that night.

It became routine.

Every evening, after the day's duties were done, I was summoned to Eris's study. At first, I had thought it was some kind of test, some trick to lull me into a false sense of security before he reminded me of my place. But the days passed, and the cruel words never came. The taunts never sharpened into something harsher.

Instead, I found myself sitting across from him as he worked, the fire crackling between us, filling the silence in ways neither of us felt the need to.

And I was learning things.

Not just about him—but about myself.

I learned that despite being raised under Beron's thumb, Eris did not rule with a hand of iron. He listened—to his advisors, to the reports of the court, to me, even. And when I spoke, he truly listened, as if my words meant something.

More recently I learned that he was—Gods help me—attractive.

That fact had been easy enough to ignore when I hated him, when I thought he was just another Beron in the making. But the more time I spent with him, the more I noticed things I shouldn't—like the sharp angles of his face, the golden hue of his eyes, the way his hands moved across parchment with effortless precision.

It was incredibly inappropriate.

He was a High Lord, for the Gods' sake. I was a mere servant. A courtier, yes, but still beneath him in every sense of the word.

But there were moments—subtle, fleeting—where I felt that he didn't see it that way.

Like when he'd catch me staring and smirk, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Like when his fingers would brush against mine as he handed me a book, a touch so brief it might have been an accident, but my traitorous body knew better. Like when he said my name—not the way Beron used to, as if I were an object, a thing that existed for his whims, but as if I were someone worth hearing.

It was dangerous. He was dangerous. And yet, I kept returning to his study, night after night, drawn to him in ways I did not understand.

I was comfortable around him now. Too comfortable. And I wasn't sure if that terrified me or eased me more.

The fire crackled behind him, casting golden light over the room as I sat at his desk, scanning over the trade agreements he had asked me to review. Eris stood in front of the hearth, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the flames with a contemplative expression.

"They're bleeding the smaller villages dry," I murmured, flipping to the next page. "The tariffs are nearly double what they should be."

Eris hummed in response, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what do you suggest, fawn?" His voice was rich, edged with amusement.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, biting back a smile at the teasing lilt in his tone. "Lowering them would be a start."

He took a slow sip of whiskey, then turned, his gaze burning even hotter than the fire behind him. "Very well. Lower them."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He smirked, as if amused by my surprise. "You have a sharp mind. It would be a waste not to use it."

A compliment. A genuine one.

I busied myself with the documents, ignoring the warmth that curled in my stomach. But before I could shift to the next matter, I felt it—him.

The space between us disappeared in a breath. Eris leaned over my shoulder, one hand bracing against the desk as he peered down at the papers with me.

His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, his scent—smoke, cedar, spice—curling around me, intoxicating. I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the quill.

"See?" His voice was softer now, smooth like velvet. "That wasn't so hard."

I swallowed, forcing my focus back to the parchment. "I assume the next set of reports won't be as easy."

His chuckle was low, deep. "Unfortunately, no."

We worked through the rest of it together, his proximity never wavering, his breath occasionally ghosting against my cheek as he murmured his thoughts. It should have been unbearable. It was unbearable. And yet, I didn't pull away.

Not even when he poured me a glass of whiskey.

I had refused at first, telling him I was technically working but he had simply raised an eyebrow and said, "I won't tell the high lord if you don't."

It burned going down, leaving warmth in its wake, emboldening me just enough to loosen the tight grip I always held on myself.

Perhaps that was why, when we finally leaned back in our chairs, the tension of duty momentarily relieved, I dared to meet his gaze with something close to ease.

"You're a better High Lord than I expected," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty.

He turned his glass between his fingers, watching me over the rim. "High praise, coming from you."

I rolled my eyes, but the smallest of smiles played at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he quipped, grinning.

I shook my head, but I wasn't fast enough to hide the way my lips twitched in amusement.

Eris noticed. Of course, he did. And he leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "Careful, fawn. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll think you actually enjoy my company."

I should have ignored the remark. Should have cut the moment short, should have reminded myself that this was Eris, that I was his courtier and nothing more.

But the whiskey hummed in my blood, and I found myself tilting my chin up slightly, arching a brow.

"Who said I don't?"

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something wicked dancing in those golden eyes.

The air between us tightened, the tension shifting into something heavier, something dangerous.

And for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to run from it.

The room was suffocating with heat—not just from the fire, but from him. From the way he looked at me, like he could see through every carefully placed wall I had built around myself.

I should have left. Should have bowed my head, murmured a polite good night, and returned to the servantry quarters where I belonged.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed, rooted in place, watching the way Eris's eyes flickered between my lips and my eyes. The tension stretched unbearably tight, wound so thin that one more word, one more breath, would surely snap it.

And then it did.

One moment, we were speaking, our words slow and softened by whiskey. The next—I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine.

It was a collision, a wildfire consuming everything in its path.

His lips were searing, his hands gripping my waist as if he couldn't bear to let go, pulling me flush against him. I gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage, deepening it, his tongue sweeping over mine in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle.

He groaned, low and guttural, and something inside me snapped.

I met his fervor with my own, fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the silk of it between my fingertips as he backed me into the desk. The papers we had worked so hard on crumpled beneath us, utterly forgotten.

He exhaled a quiet curse against my lips as his hands gripped my hips tighter, and I—I didn't stop him. I arched into him, into the warmth, the danger of it.

And then—it happened.

A tether snapped into place.

Invisible, undeniable, unyielding.

My entire body locked up as a force stronger than anything I had ever known latched onto my very soul. The bond—a mating bond—solidified between us like molten steel cooling into iron, a force so absolute it stole the air from my lungs.

No, no, no.

I stumbled back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my hand flying to my lips as if I could erase what had just happened.

Eris reached for me, eyes wide, something dangerously close to awe written across his sharp features. "Wait—"

But I didn't.

I turned and ran.

I ignored the way his voice followed me, calling my name, ignored the way my heart thundered in my chest, the way my mind screamed at me that this was impossible, that it couldn't be real, that it shouldn't be real.

Because if it was—if it was real—then it meant I was bound to him. To him.

Not just the male who had been slipping under my skin, infiltrating the cold emptiness I had built to protect myself. But Beron's son. Beron's heir. A Vanserra. A High Lord.

By the time I reached the servantry quarters, my breaths were ragged, my hands shaking as I shoved my door closed behind me, locking it with trembling fingers.

I pressed my back against the wood, squeezing my eyes shut.

This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake. A trick. A cruel, cruel joke.

I was nothing.

A courtier, a servant.

I did not get to have mates.

And certainly not him.

I curled onto my cot, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress as if I could anchor myself back to reality. I forced my breathing to slow, willed myself to forget the feeling of his lips, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the way his hands had fit so perfectly against my waist.

I did not sleep that night.

I had been avoiding him.

Days had passed, and I hadn't stepped foot in his study again. I hadn't so much as looked in his direction, even as the court whispered about me, about us, about the undeniable scent of a bond snapping into place.

They all knew.

I could feel their stares, the pity in some, the amusement in others. I knew what they thought—that it was only a matter of time before I bent, before I folded myself into the neat little role fate had carved out for me at Eris's side.

I refused.

I stayed tucked away, keeping to my duties, bowing as I always had when in his presence, keeping my head low, silent. I had done it for years under Beron. I could do it again.

Or at least, I thought I could.

The bond had other plans.

It had been clawing at me, a sick, twisting thing in my chest, gnawing at my ribs every time I kept my distance. The more I ignored it, the worse it became, a restless, aching pressure that built until my hands trembled with the need to do something—run to him, scream, sob. I didn't know which.

I was too caught up in my own mind, too focused on fighting the invisible thread tethering me to him, that I didn't notice the male approaching me until it was too late.

"You've been rather elusive, haven't you?"

I turned sharply, expecting him, expecting Eris—

But it wasn't him.

It was Kyden.

My stomach twisted.

Kyden Vanserra had always taken the most after Beron compared to the rest of his brothers, cruel for the sake of cruelty, sneering down at those he deemed beneath him. Which unfortunately included me.

His smirk was slow, predatory. "I almost mistook you for one of the nobility, standing there all stiff and proper. But then I remembered—you're just a servant, aren't you?"

I forced my body not to react, not to let the memories claw their way up my throat. He had that same look in his tawny eyes that Beron always had on one of the particularly hard days.

Kyden stepped closer, voice a lazy drawl. "And yet, despite your lowly position, you managed to ensnare a High Lord." His lips curled, eyes gleaming with something dark. "Or rather, the bond did. Funny, isn't it? How fate makes fools of us all."

I kept my chin high, my hands at my sides. I would not cower.

He leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear. "You reek of him."

I flinched. Kyden chuckled. "It's amusing, really. Eris, of all people, shackled to someone like you." His gaze flickered over me, assessing, and I knew that look—I had seen it before, a lifetime ago, picking apart my worth, deciding how best to use me.

"What do you think he'll do?" Kyden mused. "Surely, you don't believe he'll actually keep you. A High Lord's mate should be powerful, worthy." He tutted. "You are neither."

The words hit their mark, sinking into my skin like tiny blades, because deep down I knew he was right. This is why I've been avoiding Eris, avoiding having that confrontation that will only result in rejection and sorrow.

"I wonder," he continued, tilting his head, "how long it will take before he grows bored of you. Before he realizes you're nothing more than the same little courtier Beron used to—"

A deep, guttural snarl split the air.

And then Kyden was no longer in my space, no longer crowding me like a looming shadow.

Eris had him by the collar, dragging him back, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl beside his brother's throat.

"Say another word," Eris hissed, voice like fire crackling over dry wood, "and I will tear out your fucking tongue."

Kyden, to his credit, did not flinch. He only grinned. "Touched a nerve, did I?"

Eris's fingers tightened, the flames in the nearby sconces flaring wildly.

"Walk away, Kyden," Eris said, voice quieter now, deadlier. "I raised you better than this."

A beat of silence. Then Kyden huffed a laugh, shoving Eris off him with a roll of his shoulders.

"As you wish, brother." He turned to me, and there was something smug in his eyes, something knowing. "See you around, little courtier."

And then he was gone.

Eris exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before turning to me.

"Are you—"

I shook my head, stepping back. "Don't."

His jaw tensed.

I couldn't do this. Not here. Not now.

The hallway was silent except for the distant clatter of pots and the hushed murmurs of servants slipping past us, their eyes darting away the moment they caught sight of Eris. I could still feel the ghost of Kyden's words slithering over my skin, the way he had looked at me, spoken to me. But more than that—I could feel the weight of Eris's gaze, burning into me as if he were unraveling every thought in my head.

I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to feel the way I did when he looked at me.

His amber eyes flickered with something unreadable, something heavy and tense. He hadn't moved since Kyden left, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was still fighting the urge to chase his brother down and finish what he started.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. We stood nearly a yard away from each other in the servants' passages, the house was so vast that to get from place to place quicker in the manor there were secret paths to take. It was odd for the High Lord to even know about them.

I swallowed hard, then whispered, "Why are you here?"

Eris blinked, as if startled by the question. And then, with the ghost of a smirk, he drawled, "It's my house, isn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You know what I mean."

More silence.

His smirk faded.

"I was looking for you," he admitted finally.

I stared at him, heart hammering against my ribs. "You could've called for me."

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. "Would you have come?"

I said nothing.

He huffed a bitter laugh. "That's what I thought."

I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. "It's my job, Eris," I whispered.

His jaw flexed. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch me—but he didn't. Instead, he just stood there, looking more defeated than I'd ever imagined a Vanserra could.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" I asked, my voice quieter now, because we were standing a distance apart with maids and cooks scuttling silently past us, pretending they weren't listening, pretending they couldn't see the invisible string between us.

Eris studied me for a long moment, then nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel, leading the way.

I followed.

The room he brought me to was small, tucked away in one of the unused wings of the estate. A study, maybe, or a reading room—the kind of place someone could go to disappear.

He shut the door behind me, and then we were alone.

Eris exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Are you alright?"

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I don't know."

His jaw tightened. "Kyden—"

"I don't want to talk about Kyden."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Then talk to me about something else."

I let out a breath. "About what, Eris?"

He stepped closer, slow and careful, as if I were something fragile. "About why you've been avoiding me."

I scoffed. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

I met his gaze, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. "Because this—" I gestured between us. "—isn't supposed to happen. Because you're a High Lord, and I'm a servant, and this bond—" I swallowed hard. "It's cruel."

Eris's expression was unreadable, but his fingers twitched again, and I wondered if he even realized he kept doing that—kept stopping himself from touching me. "You think the Mother is cruel?"

I hesitated. "I think fate is."

Eris exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Do you hate it that much?"

I didn't answer.

Did I?

Hate was easy. Hate was something I understood, something I could hold onto. Hate had kept me alive under Beron's rule, had hardened me, protected me.

But this? This tether between us, this thing that hummed in my chest, that made my body ache to close the distance between us—

I didn't have a name for it. And that scared me more than anything.

Eris watched me carefully, as if searching for something in my expression. He let out another sigh and retreated, taking a seat on the small leather couch adjacent to the popping fireplace. I watched him silently, still standing by the door.

"I never wanted this either," he admitted, voice softer now. "I spent years ensuring I would never be bound to someone who could be used against me. And yet..." His lips quirked into something bitter. "Yet here we are."

My throat felt tight. "Do you hate it?"

His amber eyes burned. "No."

The breath I took was unsteady.

"You never answered?" he looked up at me.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shook my head. "I don't know."

Eris nodded once, as if that answer was enough.

Silence stretched between us again.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't have to accept it," he said. "Not now. Not ever, if that's what you choose." He met my gaze, something like resignation flickering in his eyes. "But I won't apologize for it."

He wanted to keep it? Wanted me to accept it?

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

He tilted his head, considering me. "So what now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "That's twice now."

I scowled. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "I suppose I should be grateful I got anything out of you at all."

I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite to it.

Eris studied me again, quieter this time. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I was looking for you."

I looked away. "I know."

Silence settled between us again, but it was different now. Less suffocating.

More dangerous.

Because I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending I didn't want him to find me. I approached his side quietly and sat.

The leather couch was cool against my skin as I sank into it beside him, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. The bond thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless and inescapable.

The son of the man I loathed most in this world was the one I was expected to love beyond reason.

Fate was a sick, twisted thing.

I sighed, tired of thinking, tired of fighting, tired of everything. Slowly, hesitantly, I tilted my head, letting it rest against his shoulder. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he relaxed, exhaling a breath I might've imagined.

It was enough for now.

"I'm High Lord," he said after a beat.

"Painfully aware," I murmured.

"Meaning—there are rules of the Autumn Court that I can... simply get rid of."

I huffed a soft, tired laugh. "You're a lord, not a king."

"Mm, true," he mused, tilting his head back against the couch, "but if Rhysand can bend the rules to marry his mate, so can I."

I hesitated. "His court is much more pliable. Autumn is notorious for its... old-fashioned ways."

"Well, the Autumn Court has a new High Lord." His voice was steady, sure. "Let's just hope I'm changing it for the better."

I smiled faintly, my eyes fluttering shut. "You are, 'Ris."

The name slipped out before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself that familiarity with him was dangerous.

His body went still beneath me.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he looked down at me, amber eyes burning with something I couldn't name.

We stared at each other for a long moment, really seeing each other.

And then, quietly, almost reverently, he murmured, "I'm going to kiss you now."

I nodded.

And then he did.

His lips pressed against mine, slow and deep, as if we had all the time in the world. As if the bond wasn't something to be feared but something to be savored. His hand lifted to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone before sliding into my hair, tilting my face up, pressing deeper.

I sighed into him, gripping the front of his tunic as the bond pulsed between us, as the warmth of his body and the scent of campfire and rainy mornings wrapped around me like something familiar, something I could fall into.

It should have scared me.

But all I could do was kiss him back.

Eris pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. My heart pounded, my thoughts a chaotic mess, but the bond hummed in quiet contentment—as if it had known all along that this was inevitable.

His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, his other hand still cupping my jaw, holding me there, keeping me grounded. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, voice low, steady. Sure.

I let out a slow breath, my hands still fisted in his tunic. "You make it sound so simple."

"It doesn't have to be complicated."

I swallowed hard, my mind already spinning with the realities of what this meant, what it could mean. But as I looked at him, at the quiet determination in his gaze, at the warmth that had nothing to do with the firelight flickering around us, I found myself wanting—just for a moment—to believe him.

So I nodded, just barely.

His lips brushed my temple, lingering there for a heartbeat before he leaned back, his hand finally slipping from my hair. "One step at a time, my dear."

I exhaled, my pulse still thrumming in my throat, and echoed, "One step at a time."

And maybe, just maybe, we'd find our way through this. Together.

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[heegyukeluv]

CHAPTER ONE: you&me

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Each new cycle marks a new chapter in life’s story. You, once so sure of your choices, found yourself questioning everything when you met Heeseung, someone too perfect to be real. He adapted to you effortlessly, and it felt just as natural for him as it did for you. Now, you and Heeseung were starting a new chapter together, one that would unfold shared.

my's note: sub hee for my one and only babi!!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOVE!!!

warnings: university teacher y/n and university teacher heeseung, pet names (baby, babe, love…), yn is a menace ngl, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, SUB HEE!!!, protected and unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (m), nipple play (m), handjob, blowjob, cowgirl/riding, overstimulation, edging, drooling a lil, fingering (f), bathroom sex, reader calls hee ‘good boy’, lowkey teacher kink but not really he just uses the word once and in a teasing way i swear… lmk if i missed something!

wc: 33k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

No matter how consistent your routine had become, there was always a flutter of nerves accompanying you as you crossed the tall iron gates, the friendly greeting from the security guard sounding like a familiar melody to your ears.

It was nothing like the first time, of course. You could vividly recall the ache in your stomach from the sheer nervousness and the fear of making mistakes or embarrassing yourself. Your legs trembling, your eyes darting everywhere, and even your voice had betrayed you, faltering when you tried to interact with your superiors. But now, there was a core of pleasant anticipation – an excitement for the unknown.

After all, teaching might be routine, but every lesson offered a fresh opportunity to explore the day.

You had always embraced an open, flexible teaching style, striving to be the kind of professor who not only imparted knowledge but also genuinely listened to students and their unique perspectives. This approach wasn’t just a personal trait – it had significantly enhanced your professional reputation.

In fact, it had earned you a place on the director’s radar, leading to better positions in a surprisingly short amount of time.

In the academic hierarchy, older and more experienced educators typically had first pick of the subjects they would teach at the start of the year. Newer teachers were left with the “leftovers” – the so-called duller, broader courses that, in some ways, stifled creativity.

But you had made the best of it. You worked tirelessly, and in just two years, you achieved remarkable goals that reshaped how the director viewed you. Now, you held a slightly higher position with more freedom in choosing your courses. Of course, there were still teachers ahead of you who claimed the more prestigious subjects, the ones you could only dream of teaching someday.

It was the beginning of a new year, which meant an influx of fresh teachers. In your field – psychology – this was relatively rare. The college’s prestige meant they only hired truly promising names, which resulted in a very niche demand for positions. This, in turn, created a noticeable lack in areas like yours, where teaching needed to be particularly well-structured and thoughtfully delivered.

This semester, your schedule included Social Psychology, Personality Psychology, and Statistics.

Statistics was still a taboo subject in the field – many students avoided it like the plague, and you had been one of them as well, both as a teacher and as a learner. Yet, much to your dismay, the “dreaded course” had been assigned to you and you couldn’t do anything other than accept your fate.

And you did embrace it as a self challenge, to think beyond the usual in order to offer something engaging and valuable other than the basic 1+1 concepts that so often felt lacking. 

As you made your way, you didn’t expect any new hires in your department at all, as no one had informed you otherwise. So your surprise was undeniable when you walked into the faculty lounge and immediately spotted an unfamiliar face – or rather, a back.

It appeared to be a man, his posture slightly hunched forward, his broad shoulders and apparent firm back hinted at his height, significantly taller than you.

He was dressed in the typical attire of a freshly hired professor: slacks, dress shoes, and a neatly tucked-in shirt beneath a blazer that, if you were honest, hugged his frame almost too perfectly.

He was also murmuring something under his breath, a sort of self-assurance mantra that sounded similar to: “You’ve got this. It’s fine. They’re just teenagers. Or young adults. It doesn't matter. You’re smart.”

With your curiosity picked, your steps led you to fully enter the room, the soft click of the door coinciding with your calm, yet friendly voice breaking the air.

“I used to say the exact same thing to myself.”

The man turned abruptly, now offering you a full view of his face as his hands froze mid-motion, still in the process of fastening his blazer. 

Wide, startled eyes locked onto yours, resembling a deer caught in headlights moments away from disaster, like he was doing something wrong. Maybe he felt like when you’re doing exercises in your room and your parents step in, the embarrassment flowing through every inch of your skin.

His lips, glistening in a shade of red, hung open in shock while quick, uneven breaths escaped them, a clear sign that the surprise had been mutual, though his seemed far more intense.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you murmured, a slightly shy smile gracing the corners of your lips as you blinked, softening your features. 

Taking slow, deliberate steps, you closed the distance between you two, with the man now completely silent, but turned to face you entirely, his demeanor awkward and endearing in a way that tugged at something warm inside you. Something oddly.

“Y/N.” You extended your hand as politely as you could, ignoring the tingle on your fingertips as you waited for the ensuing touch. The man stared at your fingers adorned with beautiful rings for a brief moment before jolting and taking it in his with a careful grip, greeting back.

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.”

You couldn’t deny nor hide that his voice was somehow comforting, not too deep, not too high, just perfectly balanced to surprise you with how your heart picked up its pace at the sound.

His touch was different too; palm warm and slightly sweaty, likely from nerves, but you didn’t mind. If he was indeed a new hire, a little nervousness was to be expected. Not to mention the divergence of his steady and kind grasp.

The silence that followed as you released the handshake bordered on awkwardness, your eyes trying to focus on anything other than the man that now could be named as Heeseung. However, an unusual aura seemed to draw your attention back to him, like a silent hypnosis, magnetic, an irresistible force pulling you to trace the fragments of what was laid bare for you to drink in about his undeniable beauty.

And Heeseung took a moment to take in your appearance as well, shamelessly letting his gaze wander over your figure and consequently becoming unaware you did just the exact same thing. 

You wore fitted black slacks that subtly accentuated your thighs and waist, paired with a loose blouse tucked haphazardly into your waistband on one side. A casual yet stylish look, adequate to your job, and sufficient to drive some guys – Heeseung, in specific – to teeter the edge of losing his breath. 

One hand held your bag while the other toyed absentmindedly with the necklace around your neck, a gold watch wrapped around your wrist that stirred Heeseung’s acknowledgment about your liking for accessories.

You had your posture relaxed and seductive, even, as your piercing gaze drifted through Heeseung’s body. Attractive – undeniably so.

He looked like the kind of professor who would easily become a hit among the students – and maybe some other teachers – and you couldn’t help but wonder what and when rumors might start circulating about him.

Back in your day, you had been the subject of whispers yourself. At first it had intimidated you, not knowing how to take in the compliments and the murmurs around you, but you soon decided to switch it into confidence, growing more comfortable in your role with each passing day. It even helped you connect with your students in a way that felt natural and genuine, a give-and-take dynamic you had come to love.

“So… Heeseung,” you cleared your throat, breaking the mutual analysis with a sharp cut. The sound of your voice pulled his attention back to your face. You smiled at his flustered cheeks and innocent gaze. “You’re new here, I assume?”

“Yep. First day,” he replied with an obvious nervous sigh, nibbling his bottom lip before tilting his head with a curious expression. “Any memos?”

A soft hum was your initial response, paired with a thoughtful look as your eyes went towards a random spot to the side, most likely you were in deep thought to find the right answer. Heeseung mentally cursed himself for finding you cute with the subtle pout of your lips and the slight furrow of your brow that added to your charm.

At the same time, he didn’t judge himself too harshly. You were undeniably beautiful, and he was frankly surprised he was managing to have even this minimal conversation with you without much stutter.

“Don’t drink the coffee from earlier in the morning,” you finally concluded, nodding slightly to yourself. Heeseung narrowed his eyes to you before a smirk creeped on the corners of his mouth. “It’s awful. The one during the lunch break is much better.”

Then you then motioned in the direction of Heeseung’s chest with your chin, both your hands now firmly gripping your bag’s strap, because your fingers buzzed with a sudden need to be the one undoing his buttons.

“And maybe leave the top button of your shirt open, if you’re comfortable. If you’re too stiffly dressed, the students might see you as overly serious…” You paused abruptly, your eyes widening slightly, gesticulating amidst your awkward state. “Not that being serious is a bad thing! It’s just… you know. Teenagers. Appearances sometimes mean everything to them.”

Heeseung breathed out a soft laugh, his eyes curling into small crescents as he did. “Don’t worry, I get it. That was actually one of my concerns, to be honest.”

As he calmly spoke, his hands began to undo the buttons of his blazer, revealing the shirt beneath for your hungry gaze, as well as a small glimpse of his bare chest. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself momentarily distracted by the sight, an unwelcome heat rising to your cheeks because, yeah, you could tell by the face and part of the exposed neck that Heeseung had honeyed skin.

But damn. Was there a reason for him to be completely attractive? He probably had some terrible habit, or a major red flag, or was burdened with deep personal flaws, because a man that good-looking rarely had good character.

Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back and forced a strained smile, more than ready to escape before your thoughts could spiral further, fearing your composure would crumble completely in front of Heeseung and ruin the first impression you made on him.

Not that you cared much about making a good impression, but he seemed to effortlessly bring out behaviors in you that were just a little beyond your control and definitely unusual from you.

“Well, enjoy your first day,” you said in a tone that hinted at goodbye, already tracing your path to the door. And when everything appeared to be falling into place, you casually let it slip, exuding a natural sense of sensuality. “I hope we’ll see more of each other around here.”

Unfortunately or not, Heeseung caught on right away. And to make matters worse, he mimicked your tone, a little more shy though.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too.”

The following weeks at work went as normally as possible. Classes here and there, some students sharing personal topics with you because they felt comfortable, lunch breaks, and some free hours that always led you to the teachers’ office room to review your lesson plans and prepare for the upcoming ones, along with the daily reports you needed to write in short, concise paragraphs, just for bureaucratic purposes.

You had already filled out your syllabus for the semester, which was promptly reviewed and approved so you could start your journey in that academic year. But still, there was that unmistakable nervous feeling that seemed to follow you around.

Part of that sensation stemmed from personal anxiety, which you were able to slowly dissipate as you worked through your teaching plans, which is exactly what you were doing at that very moment.

The teachers’ room wasn’t usually filled with other professors because many preferred to occupy other spots on campus that offered just as much comfort, or even stay in their cars, claiming that they wouldn’t be disturbed in any way.

You had found yourself visiting the library and even an open area near trees and nature to catch up on your studies and lesson plans. But there, in that air-conditioned room, where coffee was free and easily accessible – and, by the afternoon, delicious – and a comfortable chair awaited, it seemed like the perfect place to try and get your head together.

There was something tangled inside you, something that didn’t seem to have a clear root, as if something clouded your ability to see what was causing you such distress. Everything seemed to revolve around the damn statistics class, which had become a growing source of stress in your planning.

Every time you thought about it, your head seemed to spin. You had taught it quite a few times, with the next class coming up in a few minutes and the sensation of lacking overwhelming you.

It almost felt pathetic, and it made you laugh without humor when you remembered your students asking how a psychologist like you could have moments of anxiety.

And then there was the part of the class where you would say that when you’re a psychologist, you don’t stop being human. Emotions, sensations, feelings – they all stay with you, even when you know relaxation techniques or how to listen to other people's problems.

Thinking about that calmed you a little. Reminding yourself that you’re human, that you feel and can feel the way your body decides to feel in certain situations. It’s natural to feel anxious about something beyond your control or something you’re uncertain about, and just admitting that is a step towards something that could bring relief.

Unfortunately, sometimes you can’t just ignore the situation, not when you’re a teacher who needs to take responsibility for the subjects you teach, since the future of your students passes through your hands every lesson and that alone carries a height of tons.

“Am I interrupting?”

Nothing had prepared you to hear someone’s voice weaving through your tormented thoughts, so your immediate response was to tense up and widen your eyes, your pulse increasing its beats significantly as your gaze lifted to meet the owner of your startle.

A breath escaped from your parted lips and formed a single name. “Heeseung?”

Your heartbeat sped up even more. 

The shock was evident in every part of your body, from the way you had stiffened entirely, to the clear flush on your face. Noticing your state, Heeseung chuckled softly.

“That’s me.”

Without a single word, your gaze instinctively swept across every detail of him, and you had to restrain yourself from succumbing to the impulse of simply drooling as you did so.

Heeseung was dressed casually, that little heads-up given him earlier the week lingered on the back of his mind long enough for him to abandon the idea of being too formal and dress more laid-back, without losing the air of vanity and elegance he enjoyed to carry.

Today, he wore a simple white dress shirt and black pants, ones that hugged his long legs with perfection. Gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose in a ridiculously attractive way, framing his face with care, and his ears were adorned with equal gold earrings, gleaming like drops of sunlight, perfectly attuned to his skin as if they had been forged by the same fire, crafted to exist as one.

There was no reason for that man to be walking around so excessively hot like that. 

Noticing your silence and spaced-out look, as if you were somewhere else, Heeseung got worried.

“Is everything okay?” The question was softly thrown at you, while he settled into the chair in front of the desk where you were hunched over various papers.

You cleared your throat and straightened up, blinking in embarrassment while fixing the papers. You – and your environment – were a mess, and Heeseung wasn’t helping much so far.

“Uh… Kinda,” you forced a smile, struggling to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Damn, how easy it was to be attracted to attractive good-looking men – a serious pleonasm. “I’m a little…” Your head tilted quickly to the side as you sucked on your teeth, hissing. “Overwhelmed?”

You had bumped into him in the hallways since exchanging names in the staff room, but always in a rush, stuck in your respective hectic routines, never having time to chat. 

There was this weight of curiosity about how he was adjusting, how he was handling the burden of being a newly hired professor at a university, if he had already shaped his persona for the academic context, among other things, that hovered over you.

Still, one thing was undeniable: he looked great, as always. And that made everything even more chaotic for you.

“With what?”

The way Heeseung asked carried a genuine air of interest, rather than superficial curiosity, the kind of just being polite or whatever. That alone was enough to make you feel comfortable opening your mouth and spilling all your anguish. He might have been newly hired, but he exuded an air of care that instantly put you at ease.

Out of habit, you bit down on your lower lip. It was a clear tell about a specific kind of nervousness that settled in your stomach whenever you were up to something, ready to dive into some mess, probably scheming. At least, that was what your friends always said about you in moments like these.

Heeseung noticed the movement immediately, his gaze fixed on the way your teeth pressed into what looked like an impossibly soft lip, which only served as an invite to his eyes to linger longer, refusing to let go. He couldn’t quite tell if it was the subtle gloss coating and glistening under the light, or its natural color, but some detail about it had him completely mesmerized with such a particular and random trait.

Heeseung considered himself someone ridiculously and pathetically drawn to specific details in people when he found himself captivated by them. There were plenty of other aspects of your figure that caught his attention – like the elegant curve of your collarbone or the way you always seemed to wear at least one accessory perfectly aligned with your outfit.

But in that very moment, your lips took center stage, basking in the spotlight of his focus.

Maybe it was because he had been wondering about their taste over the past few days, ever since your first encounter. Whether the softness they seemed to exude was as velvety as it looked. Whether they would fit seamlessly against his. Whether they would deliver that fleeting, cloud-like sensation they wordlessly promised to anyone paying close enough attention.

For that reason, he caught the exact way the pressure of your teeth against your lip eased and unraveled – a simple, subtle movement that somehow felt magnified under the lens of his gaze. And the reason the lip biting was undone was because it had been dissolved when you said something he completely missed.

“Sorry,” Heeseung shook his head, as though it helped his mind to snap back into reality. “Come again?”

You giggled at his adorableness, casually placing your hands on the table and fiddling with your ring.

“I asked if you know anything about statistics.”

Only then did Heeseung lift his gaze, praying that the warmth spreading through his cheeks and to the point of his ears was merely a sensation, not an obvious giveaway that he was embarrassed, exposing its redness. 

“Uh, it's... not really my thing,” he scratched the back of his neck, desperately avoiding your piercing stare.

How did something so simple manage to throw him off so completely? Maybe it was because you subtly leaned forward, closing the distance between your faces while maintaining an almost too confident air.

Everything about you screamed confidence. You carried yourself with ease. Your steps were purposeful, yet casual. You smiled effortlessly, but never lost your composure; you knew how to assert yourself without being stern. He had heard whispers about how amazing your classes were and how you effortlessly mastered every subject you taught. And on top of that, you were, quite simply, breathtaking.

“But do you think you could help me?”

Heeseung nearly choked on his saliva, finding it hard to swallow the nervous lump that grew down his throat. You briefly took notice of how prominent his Adam’s apple bobbed, and for some reason you wondered if he was sensible in that area. 

“Well, I guess... I could try. Can’t make any promises, though…” He answered with his voice sounding tentative and sincere. His eyes shifted to the papers scattered in front of you, then back to your face, that now held a hint of a cute smile.

A cute smile that hid something darker beneath it.

You cocked your head to the side ever so slightly, allowing your eyes to quietly travel across Heeseung’s features. He hadn’t been concealing his shameless gaze on your lips earlier, which triggered your natural instinct to take control – a role you relished.

The way Heeseung faltered in front of you was curious. The clear struggle to collect himself, to answer without his voice betraying him, trying desperately to maintain eye contact and failing adorably, only made you want to dive deeper into that kind of conversation, to dig out each reaction he managed to express before your presence.

What had started as a simple request for help between colleagues now bordered on something far more seductive.

“Don’t worry about it, Heeseung,” you made sure to let his name sound even more velvety, boldly placing your hand on top of his with the silent excuse of showing the papers in front of you. “I just need a little guidance. I feel like part of what I’ve planned for my lessons isn’t good enough.”

Ah, yes. Lessons. That was what you were talking about. For a brief moment, Heeseung wondered how the air between you had shifted so easily, from the awkward tension to something electric and tantalizing, stirring his heart to skip several beats in such a short amount of time. And it wasn’t the first time.

Even in your first meeting, the exchange of glances had been too intense for a mere greeting between coworkers.

“Hm,” Heeseung nodded, swallowing hard again because he hadn't expected the subtle touch of your soft hand on his. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but it definitely affected his body. “Let me see.”

When he took the papers into his grasp, he solely visualized smudges, scattered letters, and nothing that made sense to his poor dizzy head. Not because of the content – although he struggled with statistics –, but purely because of the weight of your gaze resting over him, analyzing every tiny reaction with a seriousness and intensity that felt too much to bear without wavering.

Heeseung felt like he was going to explode at any moment and couldn’t help the urge to escape the invisible strings that captured his entire being, each of them being held by your pretty fingers.

From the first time you met it should have been just another common interaction with a colleague – like it had been with Lia, Sunghoon, or Yunjin. A polite greeting, a quick “good luck,” followed by a kind smile and that was it. Except, with you, it wasn’t.

He remembers how the sentences you two traded didn’t leave gaps to develop things beyond the standard colleague relationship, even though something definitely was left open, unresolved. 

A flavor similar to craving settled at the back of Heeseung’s throat, like you were crafted specifically to intrigue him, sparking a quiet and relentless desire to keep you close, even if only to watch you from a certain distance.

He often caught himself looking for you throughout the day, whether in the cafeteria during his lunch break, where his curious gaze wandered over the other professors in the hope of spotting your face among them, or between classes, when he would seize a moment to head to the restroom and secretly wish to run into you along the way.

And he had, in fact, seen you a few times since that first day, mostly in the corridors – which, admittedly, were far from ideal. It was rare to find you in the faculty lounge, and even when he did, you always seemed to be in a rush – though, to be fair, so was he most of the time.

None of these fleeting encounters allowed for a proper conversation, the kind where he could ask you something personal and hear your assured tone as you answered, only fueling his curiosity further.

Heeseung wanted to know you. To uncover details that weren’t obvious to everyone else. Sure, many had seen the way you acted as a professor, but did they know your favorite movie? Maybe they did – but did they know why? 

He wanted to dive deep, to understand the layers of you. And he didn’t blame himself for being interested in a colleague. The only thing that might hold him back was the possibility of rejection if he dared to push too far – but even then, he figured it would be worth the risk.

The real challenge was finding the courage to even try.

Seeing you there now felt like a stroke of luck. He had dismissed his students early, and it just so happened that your free period coincided with his. What caught him off guard, though, was simply you. Captivating, magnetic, brimming with confidence.

There was no certain way to pinpoint whatever generated his enthrallment towards you; maybe the manner you behaved around the campus, exuding your unmistakable graceful confidence marked something profound, and so far unnamable, in him. Or perhaps how your hands carried your bag nonchalantly, wrists always packed with accessories that jiggled softly, creating a delicate melody as you walked.

Everything about you had an irresistible air, an atmosphere nearly too blinding, and perhaps that was the hardest part to loose his nerves around you.

“Heeseung?” 

Your voice calling his name was more than enough to bring his existence back to the harsh reality where he had to face you – and your mesmerizing form –, with expectant eyes that also showed somewhat a darker emotion. 

Heeseung didn’t expect his voice to sound so quiet and distant when he answered, let alone his eyes to glance up expressing the way he got lost, but he was far too gone to properly understand the scenario. 

“Yes?”

On the other hand, you were really enjoying the unfolding scene, where Heeseung clearly fought his demons in order to keep his composure. Toying with the devil, you pushed further.

“Is it good?”

“What?” He was too adorable for your heart to handle, blinking his big bambi eyes in confusion before the whole skin of his face turned into a faint crimson tone. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he finally cleared his throat, moving his gaze back to the paper. “I… Mmh, I’d change this part,” he pointed to a specific paragraph where you also had highlighted it; automatically, you moved a bit closer so you could see it with him. “To something more dynamic, like… Using examples?”

You leaned in just enough to make him glance at you nervously, your voice dipping into an unmatched softness. “Examples, huh? What would you suggest?”

Heeseung shrugged and averted his gaze, his brow furrowing deeply as he struggled to come up with an appropriate example. Yes, he had read your lesson summary amidst the chaos in his head. And yes, he wanted to help you. But you – simply you – with your sweet citrusy scent, your effortless, self-assured demeanor, and the way your body leaned closer and closer to his, were utterly suffocating his straight thoughts.

You noticed how he pouted slightly as he focused, which left you experiencing a weird fondness, melting in your chest. 

A few seconds later, his gaze flickered between you and the paper. “Uh, maybe you could tie it to something relatable, like…” He paused, hoping his racing mind wouldn’t betray him too much. “You could compare it to... say, a study on preferences. Like how many people prefer... uh, dating versus not dating,” but of course, his brain had to go there. “I mean– You could show the numbers and... interpret what they reveal, use graphs and tools to illustrate how your students might apply statistics in psychology, for research and similar– Damn, sorry. I don’t need to explain that part to you. Definitely not.”

His rambling was both amusing and endearing, and you had to summon strength from the depths of your soul not to reach out and pinch his adorably pouty cheeks. Fuck it, why did he have to be like this?

“I got it, yeah,” you cut in with a low laugh. “That I can do. Thanks, Heeseung.”

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, leaving him flustered yet oddly satisfied at the sound of your appreciation. Heeseung started to wonder if you might need more help, just to hear you say his name again along with a few praises.

You softly took the paper back and jotted down a note where he had demarcated, making sure to remember and use the tip later. A quick glance at your watch reminded you that your time was running out – you needed to get to the dreaded class you were about to teach.

“Well,” gathering all your materials and placing some inside your bag, you began. You liked to carry your lesson book in your arms, it gave you a particular sense of authority and acknowledgment that only you understood. “Unfortunately, I need to go.”

As you stood up, Heeseung followed your movements with careful attention, his own body wanting to get on his feet as well, much to copy you and maybe walk you to your class. He held himself back, because that would be too pathetic. And he had already exhausted his quota of embarrassment in front of you.

You looked at him, continuing, “But before I leave, I have one more question for you.”

“About what?” He asked, his voice soft but tinged with confusion and curiosity.

“Do you fall into the group that prefers dating or not dating?”

You giggled at his immediate response; his wide eyes, his hands fumbling nervously, one of them darting to adjust his glasses as your unwavering gaze lingered on him.

“Um,” he shifted in his seat, not daring to look at you. “Dating.”

That had been a calculated move on your part, a way to test the waters and find out if he had any romantic ties. Surely, a man as handsome, intelligent, and kind as Heeseung had someone. But the way he answered, paired with his demeanor around you during your few encounters, piqued your curiosity and strengthened your belief that he wasn’t taken.

“Just to clarify, Heeseung,” you said, placing your book back on the table and flattening your hands on its surface. Leaning slightly forward, you closed the space between your faces. Heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on your unwavering ones. “Are you single?”

“Yes,” he answered shyly yet promptly, his cheeks now burning with heat. “I am single.”

“Good,” you said with a satisfied nod, not even attempting to hide your delight in his response. Straightening up, you grabbed your things and prepared to leave, a smile dancing on your lips. “Very good, Heeseung.”

You had a lecture to lead in a few minutes and hoped to grab a quick bite while reviewing your notes – a personal mantra that steadied your nerves and boosted your confidence, a ritual that you tried not to break. However, fate had different plans for you that day, starting with the unusual buzz of conversation seeping through the door of the faculty lounge, indicating more people had the same plan of occupying the room.

What caught you off guard, though, as your hand settled on the knob and you gently pushed the door open, careful not to disrupt the animated chatter, was spotting Heeseung's bright presence among the group of professors.

The instant hush that followed sent three pairs of eyes towards you, yet yours locked singularly on his. Hesseung’s expression softened automatically, shifting from the lingering remnants of a joyful laughter to something tender and inviting.

Even by the distance, you could nearly feel his irises glimmering with warmth, a genuine glow of happiness lighting up his features little by little. Internally, his heart picked up its pace, the contrast of nervous energy coursing through his body was almost palpable, his palms already growing clammy.

“Please, carry on as if I’m not here,” you quipped with a cheeky smile, not bothering to properly greet each individual. “Pretend I’m a ghost. I’m just here to grab a book,” you added, weaving a subtle lie into your words as you made your way towards the bookshelf in the corner.

A few chuckles rippled through the room before the conversation resumed, now with only two participants since one of them felt the urge to follow you every move. You wondered why you had gone through the effort of lying and how you would deal with your lunch plans elsewhere, considering none of the current people aligned with your usual solitary break.

Well… One of them could maybe help you.

“Hey,” a quiet voice cut through, pulling you from your thoughts as you lingered too long by the shelf. Your head snapped to the side, finding Heeseung standing there with an easy smile, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark grey slacks.

“Hey,” you replied, instinctively shifting to face him fully.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander, now practically a habit during these fleeting encounters. Today, Heeseung in a turtleneck was a sight you hadn’t been prepared for. The sleek black fabric paired with a gray blazer and silver accents from his accessories left you more breathless than you cared to admit. Lethal for your heart. Effortlessly, attractively hot. 

“Wanna grab some lunch together?” He asked with an air of casualness, which diverged entirely from the usual demeanor he displayed around you.

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, the corner of your lips curving as a shadow of a mischievous smile appeared before his boldness. Accepting the invitation veered slightly off your schedule, but the idea of speaking with him alone – and the fact that he had taken the initiative – was far too tempting to pass up.

Biting your lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle your smile, you replied as nonchalant as you could, “Sure.”

“Great!” His voice held a trace of enthusiasm that left you feeling inexplicably giddy.

You stifled a giggle when he stepped aside, motioning for you to lead the way, and then quickly rushed ahead to hold the door open for you.

“We can head to that convenience store just down the street,” Heeseung suggested with his charmingly laid-back tone as he helped you through the way, making sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone.

It somehow felt like he practiced this entire interaction quite a few times beforehand, a hint of artificiality appearing amidst the palpable signs of sincerity; that idea matched perfectly with the persona he had shown you so far.

“It’s near, so it won’t mess with your schedule,” at that remark, your attention sharpened, your ears perking up eagerly, waiting for what he would say next. “I know you’ve got a lecture in about thirty minutes, so–”

“You know my schedule?” You cut him off immediately, letting your curiosity overtake as you ignored whatever he was saying previously because that one new information stirred a few strong beats in your chest.

Not to mention how your delight was more than evident in the way your smile brightened, your eyes instantly searching for Heeseung’s shy ones.

“I–I mean– Yeah…” tinged with hesitation and with his confidence momentarily faltering – as well as his steps –, Heeseung answered, adorably flickering his gaze to you, to the floor and then to the direction you both were walking.

However, before he could even try to start to explain himself further, you leaned in, your tone dipping slightly to reassure and tease him at once, your shoulder nudging his arm as you spoke. “You’re cute, Heeseung.”

Not much to your surprise, Heeseung froze in place after hearing your compliment, as though your words had short-circuited his brain, frying his ability to create a proper reaction other than abruptly stop walking.

You had halted your steps a bit forward so you had to turn your body to look at him, and immediately his bambi-eyes scanned you in search for some indication you were joking or pranking his poor heart. The way he had arched his eyebrows together added a charm of innocence that had your heart faltering several beats, not to mention the red flush adorning his cheeks adorably.

After quickly reading Heeseung’s dumbfounded face, you giggled and shook your head tenderly, your eyes oozing with amusement.

“I meant it,” and to add a light touch of genuineness, you held your smile a bit longer. 

Actually, being around Heeseung had this impact on you; a sudden urge to keep smiling, an unexpected and inexplicable heat spreading through your chest, soothing you in a comforting embrace. It was strangely good, as well as scary as shit.

Amidst his inner war, torn between choosing to run away and accepting your praise, Heeseung cleared his throat, making a fist with his hand and covering his lips as he did so before picking up the pace of his steps again. You started to follow, ignoring the students that clearly threw suspicious, speculative glances at you both. Heeseung seemed to mirror your decision too. 

“Well. Uh. T–Thank you,” the stammer made his demeanor even charming and you couldn’t help another giggle that escaped you. He took a little glance at you shyly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sheepish smile that betrayed how affected he was. 

Heeseung was really battling to maintain his composure, because hearing that sound two times in a row was notably increasing his pulse, and attached to the fact that you called him cute– God. He could feel his face flaming hot once again. 

By your peripheral vision, you caught how he was struggling to suppress a bigger smile, his cheeks puffing slightly as a result of his attempts. If he kept acting that way around you, there was an absurdly high chance you would throw caution to the wind and just ask to kiss him.

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You had considered Heeseung as a potential romantic interest before – after all, he was handsome, intelligent, kind, and seemed to have an equally beautiful personality. But nothing as raw and carnal as the genuine desire to have him in such a way had crossed your mind until now.

The daylight hit your faces as you both stepped outside the building, but even that wasn’t enough to pull you out of the increasingly sinful thoughts flooding your mind. Sure, you had noticed in previous interactions how Heeseung’s gaze lingered just a little too long on your lips while you spoke. And it was definitely not the kind of attention stemming from “lip reading to understand better.” It was so clear in his eyes, an unspoken want hidden behind those charming chocolate orbs, leaving you wondering if you could be the one to make them melt sweetly for you.

Damn. More sinful thoughts.

Luckily, Heeseung interrupted the spiral going in your head when he pointed ahead to the spot he had mentioned earlier. “It’s right there,” he said, his voice light and soft. “We won’t take too long, okay?”

And then, he gave you the most beautiful smile your eyes had ever captured.

You were so screwed.

There was no other way to put it: you were starting to enjoy having Heeseung around a little too much. The reactions, the smiles, the chivalry, it was strongly getting to you. He had just held the door open for you, walked on the outer edge of the sidewalk, and pulled out your chair while offering to grab whatever you wanted to eat.

Sure, part of it was the bare minimum, but there was no denying that receiving all this without asking, without having any deeper connection beyond being colleagues, left you flustered. It felt special, as though Heeseung’s gentlemanly gestures were more deliberate and sincere simply because they were directed at you.

“Heeseung, you’re not paying for my–”

“Shh,” he gently hushed you, shaking his head as he looked down at you. He was still standing after insisting you sit while he took care of your order. “You can’t wear yourself out, Y/N. Remember: your lecture’s in…” He glanced at his watch. “Twenty-four minutes.”

You gave him a deadpan look and rolled your eyes, silently but surely mastering the art of hiding how affected you actually felt. Your heart had suddenly learned a new frantic rhythm, one that uncontrollably drummed against your rib cages as if it wanted to break free, ringing in your ears. 

“Fine, fine,” you finally gave up, your voice showing your surrender. “But at least let me–”

“No,” Heeseung refused again, this time gently pushing your hands down, which were holding the credit card you had just fished out of your bag. “Tell me what you want.”

After a sigh, you made your request – the simplest thing you could think of, since you were hungry, but the nervousness about your upcoming lecture left you slightly nauseous.

It was a session you had given before, but it always managed to trigger some anxiety. The lecture was open to the entire department, not just a specific class, as part of the mandatory hours – for either you and the students – where you would teach for an hour and a half on a selected topic.

While Heeseung prepared both bowls of ramen and fetched the drinks, you took the brief moment alone to review your notes on your phone. The book you had grabbed earlier as a prop for your blatant lie in the faculty lounge was now abandoned on the extra chair at your table.

Your focused expression was unmistakable, your eyes scanning the chaotic notes that only you could make sense of, notes that would somehow translate into coherent, eloquent words once you started speaking, shining in your element.

From a distance, Heeseung paused mid-way to take you in as well to inhale deeply, his shoulders visibly relaxing from the palpable tension that always seemed to grip him whenever you were near, but his hand still held a remnant of the nervous sweat. 

Inviting you to lunch had been planned in advance in his head, yet it didn’t stop his heart from missing beats when it actually happened, especially after you accepted, making him wonder if having a heart attack was anything like that feeling.

Beyond that, your cheeky words wrapped in confident compliments occupied a special place in the atmosphere surrounding you two, fanning the flames of unease that already simmered within him.

He had spent days counting the chances he might have to carve out time in his own schedule to ask you out, carefully calculating a way to avoid inconveniencing either of you. The courage to invite you outside of work hours wasn’t fully there yet.

He didn’t even have your number!

Heeseung decided to start slowly, taking baby steps. Nonetheless, the blatant flirtation from the other day still echoed in his mind, sending him spiraling into endless thoughts – or perhaps towards the obvious conclusion.

Did you want to get to know him better? What were your intentions? After a candid conversation with Sunghoon, who confirmed that flirting wasn’t your typical behavior with coworkers, Heeseung couldn’t shake the notion that something lingered in the air whenever you two interacted. It was an unspoken tension, like a cloud of silent words revealing something deeper, hidden just beneath the surface.

As usual, you looked stunning, completely immersed in your work while pouring every ounce of effort into being an excellent teacher. Heeseung had come to admire this about you.

He silently hoped you wanted him the way he had started wanting you – something more than friendship, something closer. You were kind and confident, dedicated and beautiful. Falling for you would be effortless.

If luck was on his side, this lunch would mark the first step towards the connection he longed to build with you.

As he approached, he couldn’t help but notice the faint unease clouding your otherwise captivating expression. It didn’t detract from your beauty, instead stirred a quiet desire within him to ease your worries.

“Relax,” he murmured softly, careful not to startle you, as he placed the steaming bowls of ramen and drinks on the table. You glanced up, your posture loosening as you leaned back in your chair. “You’ll do great.”

And there it was again, that effortlessly charming smile.

Heeseung took his seat across from you, leaning forward to start sipping his ramen since he was very hungry himself. His eyes crinkled slightly as they met yours, radiating warmth and tenderness, unmatching your keen gaze that followed the movement of his lips curving into a pout as he ate.

The problem was that, this time, you couldn’t hold your tongue about his beautiful grin.

“You have a really nice smile, Heeseung.”

And the reaction was instant. He choked, coughing into his hand as you giggled mischievously, quickly pushing his drink closer so he could take a sip and regain his dignity. Heeseung’s face turned as red as a tomato, increasing the adoration in your eyes as you watched the way he struggled; something about giving compliments simply for the sake of breaking his composure became one of your favorite games to play. Besides, you really meant each of them. 

You could go for hours about the traces of Heeseung’s features, analyzing it like a delicate and dreamlike painting, the ones that felt surreal, nearly far to human reach. 

For a short amount of seconds, Heeseung forgot he was speaking to the person who was climbing the romantic-interest charts with immense potential, the one responsible for the erratic beats of his heart and the thoughts he preferred not to name just yet, and not some random friend of his.

The curse slipped from his sauce-stained lips in a soft murmur. “Damn it,” he quickly wiped the area with a napkin, recovering from his small choke before practically whining the next words. “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”

You hadn't expected that behavior at all, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. The wide-eyed look he gave you immediately, as if the realization hit him that he had acted more like a child than a man in front of you, only made your chest warm with affection. Ironically, Heeseung’s cheeks also flushed, heating in pure embarrassment.

He was lowkey thankful for the outfit choice, the turtleneck covering the flush of redness creeping up his neck towards his face and ears. 

You shifted in your seat, finally ready to dig into your food as the aroma made your stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” you took a bite of your ramen, offering a lopsided smile, not the least bit apologetic for making him lose his composure in front of you. “I can’t help it.”

Realizing that your gaze hadn’t changed towards him, and in fact, you seemed even more intrigued by what he could offer, Heeseung decided to be as genuine as possible, expressing his true essence,  one that teetered on the edge of something almost reverential.

It wasn’t as if he had other options in front of your mesmerizing presence, because even a simple “hello” from you, with your velvety voice as the backdrop, was enough to destabilize his body, causing his mind to short-circuit. Then, he became a jumble of disconnected words and behaviors that perfectly reflected his inner turmoil.

“You should at least try,” Heeseung murmured again, an underlying tone of faux sadness coloring his words. He avoided looking at you for too long; otherwise, it felt like the air would vanish from his lungs. “You know, so I can pretend to be really cool around you, and then you’ll fall for me.”

Heeseung wasn’t sure where the courage to throw out such a bold line came from, but he didn’t complain at first. However, the laugh that escaped you made him question whether it was the right move, hesitating at your reaction. But then your smile remained, subtle and affectionate, your eyes dripping with amusement until you spoke, in the same low, subtly husky, sensual tone that reflected part of your personality.

“It’s adorable to watch you all flustered, Heeseung,” you replied fearlessly, reading the script he once showed you without explaining, your confidence evident in every syllable as you chewed your food, maintaining eye contact without breaking. “It’s almost addictive.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but the cheeky smile that threatened to escape betrayed his attempt to appear annoyed. He took a sip of his drink and looked at you seriously, though there was such obvious faking behind his gaze that you had to stifle a laugh, especially since he added a small pout after speaking.

Seriously, what an adorable man.

“I don’t think it’s funny at all.”

The warm atmosphere between you both created an interesting, comfortable dynamic that made you think about exploring different paths with him, maybe even inviting him to eat outside work hours. Despite the pleasant conversation, there was always the weight of your duties as teachers. The thought made you recall your next task with a quick inner jolt.

“Wow,” you looked at the time on your phone, your expression twisting into a mix of dread and nervousness before looking back at Heeseung, who was watching you with curiosity. “I need to go.”

It was strangely nice to see his face fall into something bordering on sadness, even though it fueled an impulse to drop all responsibilities and stay with him for the rest of the day, chatting away and definitely coaxing more shy reactions out of him.

“Sorry,” you said, this time meaning it. Gently, you reached for Heeseung’s hand resting on the table, covering it with yours. “I promise we can hang out more. Give me your number.”

Everything happened so quickly. The sudden touch, the promise of a future meet, the request for his number. Heeseung needed a few seconds to process the phone extended in his direction.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he said, reluctantly pulling his hand away to carefully write down his name and number in your phone before handing it back to you.

You found it amusing that he saved himself as “Lee Heeseung (college),” because you initially associated it with a college friend rather than a work one, which gave a youthful, almost nostalgic air, as though you two were young lovers rather than two mature adults about to venture down a different path beyond a mere friendship.

“Thanks, Heeseung,” you said as you stood up, the man following your movements for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint. He still had a few minutes before he had to head back. “For the food, the conversation, and for helping me relax.”

“Y-Yeah,” he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. “Anytime, Y/N.”

You gave him a small yet sincere smile before pausing almost completely, clutching your hands around your bag’s strap. Heeseung was standing there, eyes wide and round, watching you intently, his expression sweet as honey and his body waiting for... something.

There was no way to stop your own limbs from moving when you leaned forward lightly, enveloping Heeseung in a warm hug. “Thank you so much, Hee.”

And Heeseung could only hope you didn’t hear or feel the rapid beats of his heart when he held you back.

But you did.

Heeseung definitely wore a bolder persona through text. You believed his hands were still trembling as he sent the message, fingers glazing over the screen, searching for the best way to express what his flustered mind was trying to articulate, because countless times he seemed to delete and rewrite, hesitating before hitting send.

Despite that, it was so intriguing and sensual the way he let himself get carried away in the messages; from sweet good mornings followed by “can’t wait to see you today,” to “your outfit was stunning. I held myself back from hugging you a little longer,” implying he was slowly, yet surely growing hungrier from your touches. They were subtle phrases, perhaps innocent, but filled with an unspoken, looming desire.

At this point, it was undeniable that all you longed for was to kiss him, since the hugs that had become your usual greeting no longer satisfied the yearning to have him in direct contact with your skin. You wanted more. Much more.

“You’re suffocating me,” Heeseung mumbled against your chest, but made no effort to pull away from the position.

Yes. You were in quite a... compromising position.

You found him in the teachers' lounge, sitting at one of the chairs with his elbows propped on the smooth surface of the desk while reviewing some assignments, facial features sharpened due to the concentrated gaze and furrowed brows, although the faint pout gracing his lips softened the whole facade. 

Sunghoon had just left, greeting you with a sly smile and a wink, almost murmuring a “good luck, I’ll leave you two alone” in the most teasing way.

And it was in that very moment, when your sneaky presence entered the room, that your little plan began. Truth be told, there was no plan, just a spontaneous thought that hugging Heeseung while he was seated and you standing might be a nice touch – albeit a touch that was a bit too sultry for the work environment but would certainly reveal the mystery behind some of your insecurities and second thoughts. 

Did Heeseung flirt for his own pleasure, or was he too afraid to make a move? Because you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could wait.

“Sorry, my dear,” the endearment slipped out almost automatically, now as routine as the hugs, because to your delight, Heeseung always became embarrassed and cutely tried to avoid you when you called him that.

But who could he blame? Your honeyed voice saying the word always felt like a sweet, addictive shot to his chest.

You laughed when he groaned, pressing his face against the fabric of your blouse, pulling away ever so slightly enough for your hand to rest on his shoulder, his hand finding its way to your waist, looking up to make eye contact with you.

He wore gold-framed glasses that perfectly balanced his skin. Over the course of your conversations, a few subtle details had been revealed, like the fact that he was a little nearsighted but only wore glasses when he was too lazy to put in his contacts. And they were now slightly misplaced, giving him a ridiculously attractive air.

On top of that, he had chosen to wear suspenders that day, which only added to the innocent-boy look that made your heart tremble in a mild despair. It made you ache to ruin Heeseung in ways that were beyond comprehension, leaving him completely undone under your hands. 

And that created a bittersweet feeling within you, because Heeseung was somehow sweet and delicate, and all you could think of in moments like this was seeing him squirming in your bed.

Like. What the hell.

Vanishing the sinful stream of thoughts crossing your mind by subtly shaking it off, you smiled with a falsely angelic demeanor. A pang in your heart reminded you that those inappropriate ideas needed to disappear, because until Heeseung gave you the green light, you couldn’t take any bold actions. You had to keep your not-so-innocent instincts under control.

Your fingers lightly scratched at his scalp, making his pretty eyes flutter briefly and a soft sigh escape his lips, tinted with a pale shade of pink. Moments like this – when a sudden intimacy bloomed between the two of you – always brought with them an undeniable need to define what you were becoming or at least bring it to the table. Were you both on the same page?

“Ready to go?”

“Gimme just ten more minutes. I need to finish this,” Heeseung replied warmly, his gaze flickering towards the scattered papers on the desk.

His voice never rose around you, always soft and gentle, like you were something rare and delicate that deserved only the utmost care, you came to notice after a few interactions.

Following his line of sight, you let out a dramatic sigh, recognizing the template on the papers and sympathizing with his predicament.

“My deepest condolences,” you joked, patting his back lightly before stepping away to give him the space he needed to finish his work.

Heeseung breathed out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Yeah, thanks.”

Taking the spare chair across the table, you rummaged through your bag for your phone to answer some emails and clear up a few pending tasks, working in silence to avoid disturbing him.

It was a Friday, and your plans involved dinner – a date you had invited him to, scheduled after the extended workday that surprisingly got dragged into the evening. It wasn’t a usual routine, but every so often, deadlines accumulated and students seemed to conspire to submit all their assignments at once, unnecessarily stressing the professors.

You had received your fair share of submissions earlier in the day, deciding to tackle them on Sunday. Tonight, your nerves were too tangled with excitement and anticipation about spending the entire evening with Heeseung.

Your so-called “dates” had so far been restricted to small windows of free time, with your schedules swallowing the possibility of meeting outside work. Lunchtime together had become almost expected – sometimes, a quick sandwich devoured in the span of ten minutes between breaks with Heeseung was enough to leave you happy for an entire day.

Still, whispers floated through the hallways, pointing at how students had started to pay close attention to your interactions. The lingering touches on arms, shy smiles, and starry eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. One student even mentioned Heeseung’s name during your class under the guise of linking it to something he taught, only to admit they were curious about your reaction.

And it had been priceless.

At any given time, Heeseung would be the source of your expression brightening instantly, your posture straightened as if on command, and your hand reflexively fixing any rogue strand of hair.

However, there was no reason for you to bask into that type of spotlight. Even though you carried yourself with confidence and shared openly about clinical and professional experiences with your students, believing practical examples enriched the theory, there were limits. And that line was drawn sharply when it came to your personal and romantic life.

You had particular tastes, ones not every man could embrace or accept at all. This was why you approached Heeseung with such caution – biting around the edges not to burn your tongue, to avoid ruining everything.

But something within you screamed, loud and clear, that he might be the one. Or, at the very least, someone willing to occupy a space where both of you could thrive.

“Y/N?” His soft voice broke through your spiral of thoughts with almost painful gentleness. Heeseung was always so soft, so sweet. Ugh.

“Yes?” You lifted your gaze, confused, only to find him smiling faintly.

“You were zoning out,” he pointed out, and only then did you notice the desk had been cleared, his work neatly organized. “Something on your mind?”

Yes. You.

“No,” you quickly shook your head, preparing to stand, but Heeseung’s hand stopped you, his warm touch wrapping over your fingers.

“If you’re having second thoughts about going out, we can always reschedule,” he began cautiously, his tone betraying a flicker of hesitation. “I mean, if you’re not feeling up to go out with me–”

“No!” You denied it so quickly it sounded desperate, your chest tightening at the sensation of his warm palm on yours. “Of course not! I invited you, and I really, really want to go, Hee,” clearing away his doubt took priority number one, and without even realizing it, the words left your lips in a voice both firm and gentle. “I really want to spend time with you. Outside of work. Just the two of us. On a date. Okay?”

Heeseung noticed how you had been absent for several minutes, your gaze distant as it lingered on a spot on the table, making him wonder if there was something there he couldn’t see – maybe his glasses needed a stronger prescription or something. But no, you were just lost in thought, and reading you like that stoked the uncertainty, hesitation eating his confidence away. 

He had accepted your invitation immediately, because he wanted to go out with you more than anything. Maybe the night would end with a few kisses exchanged in his car and, perhaps – hopefully –, something more.

But any hint of hesitation from you made his confidence waver unexpectedly, even if you weren’t truly unsure. If he knew the real reason behind your sudden distance, he would understand why your mind had wandered. And could even drive you through it willingly. 

Nevertheless, once you reassured him it rekindled the invisible threads of hope that had been flickering to waver, easing the tensed nerves of his body and bringing a relieved smile to his face.

With a soft squeeze on your hand, he whispered, praying not to fumble since he just realized you called it a date and his heart chose to perform acrobatics, flipping somersaults in his chest.

“Shall we?”

The dinner was wonderful, relatively early but lovely, carried with comfortable chats and hands searching for each other. Then Heeseung suggested a walk to a nearby park so you could enjoy ice cream together, blushing furiously as he gave the idea for thinking it might be a bit cheesy and silly. 

You loved it. You loved ice cream.

You strolled for a while, leisurely, with no rush, exchanging words, sharing thoughts, and flirting subtly – some moments that even left you flustered, stirring fumbles and stutters that Heeseung stated internally it was his personal favorite side of you.

You heard him talk about the anxieties he felt at work, being newly hired and dealing with the pressures was definitely a struggle. So you shared what calmed you amid chaos, hoping something could ease his worries as much as it did for yours. Other than that, you offered your presence and listening for whenever he felt like venting out. He thanked you with a pretty smile. You nearly stumbled on your feet. 

And just like that, the next date was decided. A quiet, but certainly personal one: Sunday at your place, correcting the remaining assignments and hanging out the rest of the evening.

Then, before you both could reach the bench where you planned to sit, your ice cream nearly finished since you were a slow eater, Heeseung suddenly stopped and looked at you. Confused, you mimicked his motion and asked with worry, “Something’s wrong?”

When your eyes met, you recognized a glint of desperation and longing, an unspoken anticipation for something you didn’t know yet, but it ignited the same ache in your chest.

Your heart raced uncontrollably when Heeseung took a step forward, its thump-thump echoing in your ear like a distant thunder when he slowly, but surely closed the distance between you both.

The moonlight illuminating your faces became a silent accomplice, your gazes, heavy with unshed confessions, translating what either of you failed to articulate.

Heeseung let out a sigh, the delicate sound escaping his lips like a subtle breeze to caress your skin, before slowly running his tempting tongue over the curve of his mouth. Your eyes darted towards it, as though a magnetic pull drew your attention to the area without leaving control for you.

Your surprise was written all over your face, yet it faded quickly, when Heeseung leaned in even closer, his presence drawing you into a bubble where the rest of the world no longer existed. The surroundings turned into a blur, an ethereal fog wrapping you two in a cocoon of warmth and soft tension.

As his hand reached up to caress your cheek, there was a moment of hesitation, an unspoken uncertainty lingering in the air between you. His fingers brushed gently over your skin with a feather-light touch, as though testing the waters, while his eyes flickered through your features, marveling with attention.

His other hand, however, settled firmly on your waist, pulling you closer and anchoring you in place. The pressure was subtle and unmistakable, making your breath get caught in your throat.

“I want to kiss you,” under the stars, Heeseung confessed.

The air thickened, the last piece of the ice cream cone promptly dropping to the ground because you were too busy searching for physical contact; your fingers traced an invisible line across Heeseung’s chest, covered by the light dress shirt, until they found comfort on his broad shoulders.

“I want to kiss you too,” with a genuine mutuality, built slowly through the weeks and now finally transformed into words, you eased the weight on your chest.

It was different to simply think and to verbalize. Putting into words made it real. It showed the vulnerability hidden behind the idealization, working as a strong grounding where you, so far, feared to walk in. But Heeseung wanted to go with you just as much.

A gentle, relieved smile graced the corner of his mouth and made you mirror it almost automatically, as if the relationship created through the days synched into an admirable connection where your bodies worked together, unison. 

Eye contact remained as quiet promises hanged in the air, until your eyelids grew heavy, emotions swirling inside you and overpowering the last fragments of reasoning. The distance between you deliberately shrank, and you briefly savored the soft touch of Heeseung’s uneven breath as his parted lips grazed over yours, as a silent invite for you to meet him mid-way.

And you did. 

Heeseung was fully tense now, body quivering slightly as desperation swallowed his capacity to think straight; he could feel his hands trembling on your jawline and waist, goosebumps covering his entire being.

Touching your lips felt like embracing a plush, fluffy cloud, caressing his flesh with care and tenderness. It was delightful, carrying a warmth of affection he had never experienced with anyone else.

The very first contact was experimental, a delicate pull to ease the foreign encounter of skins, but held a trace of purpose that conveyed the inner turmoil happening inside. For short seconds you backed away, your lips ajar, silently expressing neediness that led you to lean in once more, diving into kissing Heeseung properly, because the fleeting meet wasn’t enough for you. You yearned more. 

When your tongues brushed against each other after a bold move coming from you, Heeseung groaned, the shock coursing through his body was indescribable. If he had to find words to express, he would choose the idea of a surge of electricity at the highest voltage, yet without pain or discomfort but definitely intense as such. On the contrary, it seemed to soothe every fragile piece of his soul with subtle firmness – a graceful, beautiful, and gentle contrast.

Waves of unfamiliar sensations filled your chests like butterflies dancing joyously to the rhythm you slowly unveiled together, flooding you two with a sense of “finally” that resonated louder than anything else in that moment.

Finally, you discovered the taste you craved the most; Heeseung's mouth tasted like strawberries. And devotion. It blended with the flavor of caramel melting on your tongue, a sweet and addictive mix. It bordered on surreal, like utopian dreams, unreachable, and definitely intoxicating.

While Heeseung finally discovered the softness of your lips, the delicate curve of it driving his instincts to deepen the kiss eagerly, his fingers tightening on your waist as if afraid you might slip away.

He wasn’t going to let go. Neither were you.

The world outside completely fell away. The few things that mattered and you could focus on was the heat of Heeseung’s touch, the pressure of his tongue against yours, and the frantic pace of your heartbeats intertwining together. The kiss wasn’t simply a kiss anymore, it was the culmination of all the unspoken tension, all the longing that had been building between you. A promise under the moonlight that was finally being kept.

Breathing was becoming a difficult task as the seconds passed, so you had to reluctantly break the contact, but only enough to catch your breath, your foreheads gently resting on each other.

Your eyes remained closed, heavy due to the adrenaline rushing your veins relentlessly, your pulse wildly pounding as though it aimed to set fire to your skin. It was as if the weight of tons had lifted off your shoulders, soothing your soul with an uneven calm, even though your body now burned with desire, claiming for more. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, felt like he had stepped into a new world, unbelieving of what had just happened. Breaking the blissful chaos happening inside, he breathed out a giggle, the sound both turning the dreamlike sensation into a tangible emotion and causing you to flutter your eyes open.

You leaned back ever so slightly to find him with an adorable expression, one that exuded sincerity, need and something similar to disbelief. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly, feeling your cheek flush with a sudden shyness as the tips of your fingers started to wander around the silky strands of Heeseung’s hair, trailing random patterns, which drew a sigh from him.

Heeseung leaned into the touch when you cupped his face with one palm before he shook his head, the movement causing your noses to nuzzle against one another due to the proximity, and his glasses to tilt off a little. Then his smile widened, another delicate giggle gifting your hearing and your sight, since his two hooded eyes turned into small crescents behind the transparent lenses. 

“I'm kinda not believing that we just kissed,” he whispered quietly on your lips. You deliberately licked them, exhaling a chuckle at his adorableness.

Another shaky sigh escaped Heeseung, the edge of his ears turning into a crimson shade and the skin beneath your fingers warming noticeably.

“Yeah?” A small, amused smirk played on your mouth, your voice dropping to a low tone, bordering on sultry as your eyes rose, seeking the contact you so loved to maintain; those two beautiful chocolate orbs held yours, drawing you in with pure affection. “Does it feel unreal?”

Heeseung’s heartbeat quickened when you boldly, yet slowly brushed your thumb on his bottom lip, leaving no room for answers because he was falling apart, crumbling under your intensity. He then prevented you from the beautiful scenery of his glimmering eyes oozing you once he closed them to enjoy your touch.

A soft hum escaped his throat, a subtle response to the question hanging in the air that sounded a little extra sensual to your ears, a noise that definitely had no right to spasm a heat down your core.

Heeseung’s head moved slightly with a silent nod afterwards, as if to say he didn’t have the proper words to explain how out of this world, how overwhelming kissing you felt.

“Then kiss me again, Heeseung,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, lips teasingly grazing over his. Heeseung's heart stuttered, his breath faltering. “Kiss me again, and maybe it'll start to feel real.”

For a fleeting moment, hesitation flashed in his eyes as he opened them. His hungry gaze flickered between your parted, inviting lips and the anticipation burning in your stare. Had he heard you right? Did you truly want this again – want him?

You caught the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, the grip on your waist tightening, almost possessive, though beneath it lay his tensed uncertainty. His other hand remained where it was, cradling your face with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of his hold, sending an unbidden shiver cascading down your spine.

But it was your expectant, eager eyes, glowing with nothing but unfiltered desire that shattered his doubts. There was no fear, no reluctance, not even the slightest trace of insecurity coming from you. Just raw, unspoken, confident want. One more kiss. Just one more.

And so, he claimed your mouth, capturing your lower lip between his, sucking on it with a fervent need as his eyes fluttered shut – and so did yours. A soft, breathy smack echoed when he finally released it from the grasp of his own plush lips, waiting for your next decision.

A rush of warmth spread between you as your mouth searched for his instinctively, to deepen the rhythm with the passion intensifying and the pace quickening. Your tongues intertwined in a seamless dance, a newfound hunger guiding how they moved.

The hand that once caressed you wavered for a second before gliding down to your waist, fingers flexing as he pulled you flush against him. The friction was subtle, but enough to steal the breath from your lungs, a gasp getting lost amidst the kiss.

Heeseung was starting to show signs of a deeper yearning, a need darker and unexplored, untouched up until this moment, but still restraining himself, an inner fight unveiling before you both. 

The discrepancy in his actions laid bare the true, fractured side of his divided desire – caught between surrendering to the primal instinct to kiss you over and over again with reckless abandon, without stopping, and the struggle to control himself, to rein in the sheer force of his craving.

But if he lost himself on you, you wouldn’t mind, not when he kissed you like this; so fiercely, so feverishly. It was intoxicating the way Heeseung devoured you with such raw need, as if this was everything, his only want, his only need, the very essence of his happiness.

The two of you clung to each other with an almost desperate tenderness at this point, as if feeling the warmth of the other’s skin was the only thing tethering you to reality – as if this simple touch carried the last breath of joy, of desire, of life itself.

You sighed into his mouth, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, drawing a delicious groan from deep within his chest. The sound alone sent a spark of pleasure coursing through you and you thanked for the tight grip on your hips, otherwise you would probably fall.

Your other hand clutched the fabric of his shirt, as though it would be able to anchor you away from the reality unfolding inside your brain; one that definitely didn’t stop there, in the middle of an open public space. 

Heeseung reacted instantly, angling his head to kiss you better, to give you the best, his lips moving with a fervor that made your entire body buzz with the type of heat you started to wish to live forever with. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, panting for air, Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping you as if afraid to let go, enjoying how you held his body just as close, fearing the same. 

His hooded and dazed gaze bore into yours, layered with something you couldn’t pinpoint precisely. Not before he murmured with his hoarse voice, taunting your next move. “Still feels unreal.”

You let out a breathy laugh, a feigned scoff due to his sudden shameless demeanor. Your fingertips traced the sharp line of his jaw before settling against his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss; Heeseung deduced you liked to do that, playing with his sanity enough to drift his soul towards the edge of losing it completely. 

“Then maybe,” you purred, tone laced with mischief. “We should try again. Just to make sure.”

Heeseung smirked, eyes darkening, matching yours. He whispered back. 

“But not here.”

Heeseung had noticed the way you had practically devoured him with your gaze all afternoon, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that realization.

Well, maybe not all afternoon, but at some point it seemed like you had grown bored of your responsibilities and decided to entertain yourself. How?

It didn’t matter if Heeseung was rambling about dull, tedious things, like students handing in papers filled with blatantly copied textbook answers despite his request for originality. Somehow, you managed to derail his thoughts into dangerous territory.

“Ugh, such a drag, right?” You had responded at the end of his rant, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout as your fingers idly traced along the fabric of his thin sweater, feigning comfort – an excuse to touch him.

Or when he asked for a glass of water, and you returned with his order and… A lollipop between your lips, absently rolling the red-tinted candy over your tongue while pretending to focus on your assignments, casually seated on the floor of your living room as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

And now, when he had simply asked for the bathroom’s location, you had replied, “Last door down the hall, right next to my room.”

There was something so subtle, yet unmistakably deliberate about the way you had emphasized my room, your voice laced with a suggestive tone to make it sound like an unspoken invitation. As if you wanted to plant the thought in his mind – no, better: dare him to wonder where exactly your room was. More precisely, where your bed was.

And it wasn’t as if Heeseung didn’t want you in that way. Of course he did. Ever since Friday’s kiss you had been the only thing occupying his thoughts. He had lost track of time on Saturday, running late to his own commitments, the once carefully maintained routine slipping through his fingers like sand.

You were unraveling him, piece by piece, effortlessly pulling his existence into your orbit, making his sanity wane with an alarming ease.

Now Heeseung found himself standing in the bathroom, unsure of how to step back out, his fumbling fingers disheveled his dark hair. 

No, the door wasn’t stuck, nor had any accidents occurred during his time there, he was just frustrated and flustered. 

He had lost count of how many times he had leaned over the sink to splash cold water on his face, desperately attempting to ease his nerves, which instinctively tightened at the thought of returning to a closed space with you and your brazenly, shamelessly flirts. What the hell had he gotten himself into with a woman this confident and irresistible?

You, who already carried an enviable self-assurance, were completely in your element. This was your home – you knew every inch of it, and no doubt you could use props to tease Heeseung in ways that would drive him to the brink, just like the fucking lollipop.

If he closed his eyes, the sinful image of your lips wrapping around the candy’s pink tip, sucking with an unbearable slowness, would replay like a cursed mantra – a damn film he couldn’t turn off, the screen stuck on an endless loop inside his restless mind.

It was ironic how naturally and effortlessly your relationship had unfolded… until that one defining kiss.

It felt like those tender embraces – even the ones laced with playful, wandering hands, or the moments when you deliberately hugged him while he was seated, letting his face nestle into the softness of your chest innocently – were the only thing keeping the raw, untamed desire restrained.

But the moment your lips met, the next step became far more tangible; the possibility of ending the day in your bedroom hung in the air, now more than ever thickening the space between you with an unmistakable tension.

On Friday, after deciding to head back to his car under the pretext of finding more privacy, you did exchange a few more touches, none of them pure. The moment you dared to move onto his lap, however, was when Heeseung drew the line.

“Not tonight,” he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss as a flush of embarrassment crept up his cheeks. 

And you respected his words without hesitation, nodding in understanding before sealing the moment with one last tender peck, your eyes dripping with fondness because that’s what Heeseung awakened in you: an equal blend of desire and deep affection, a craving to take care of him in every possible way.

The problem was: he wished it had been that night. That “tonight” that had already passed.

Heeseung ached for you to take him completely, just as he longed to claim you in return. Your delicate hands would probably fit perfectly around his length. Your soft lips would push him further into madness. And your gaze, always so confident and unwavering, would turn even more sultry behind closed doors, leaving him on the verge of collapse.

Heeseung let out a frustrated sigh, panicking once more, his pulse quickening. He would surrender to you in a heartbeat. No hesitation. If the mere feeling of your lips against his had sent him straight to heaven, he could only imagine what the rest of you could do.

There was this one small detail gnawing at his self-assurance, unraveling it into waves of anxiety that threatened to throw his entire system off balance. It had nothing to do with you directly, it was solely about him and his own perspective on sex. 

Heeseung valued his partner’s pleasure equally to his own. He firmly believed that both should enjoy the unique and intimate sensations a night of passion could bring. However, his own pleasure was far more… passive. Submissive, even. Would you be okay with that? Would you make fun or give up when he decides that you should take control? 

God. Everything becomes a spiral inside his head.

On the other hand, you were patiently waiting for his return, nonetheless your brain was playing tricks to the same extent.

Neither of you had brought up the kiss on Saturday, exchanging only brief messages, both too caught up in your own routines. And when Heeseung showed up at your doorstep for your “professor duties date” with the natural charming smile, greeting him with anything beyond a warm grin and a casual, “Welcome, make yourself at home,” felt oddly improper – even though you had noticed his fingers twitching on his sides, as if anticipating something more from you.

The urge to throw yourself into his arms and ruin him in the most alluring way possible tingled beneath your skin for the rest of the day, your chest hurting with raw need for him.

There was no logical explanation for the effect Heeseung had on you. If you dig to try, you would find mixed conclusions such as those impossibly big, affectionate eyes that stayed locked on you with an almost angelic aura, soaking in every word you spoke with attention and also stirring the deepest profanity thoughts to ever exist.

Or how he had to wet his lips with a frequency that threw your self-control out of the window, now knowing how they taste, only serving as a teasing motion for you to gather more and more arousal and need over them.

Or perhaps, just the remarkable way he was the perfect gentleman around you, treating you as a queen who deserved everything you wanted.

Delaying the conversation or actions felt equally as right as it did utterly wrong. But what struck you the most was realizing that this wasn’t you – at least, not the you that you knew. 

You didn’t shy away from challenges, never made excuses to escape a situation, nor avoided conversations that could either lead you exactly where you wanted to be or leave you in shambles. And maybe that was the thing about Heeseung – he dismantled your integrity, unsteadying your footing, weakening the very foundation of who you were.

He made you do things that never belonged to your usual repertoire, because, with ridiculous ease, he had melted a piece of your heart just enough to make space for himself. And you let him.

That was why, when Heeseung finally gathered the courage to step back into the living room, you didn’t even give yourself the chance to notice his timid posture, the way he initially avoided looking at you. The words left your lips like a bullet from a gun after holding the trigger for far too long.

“Heeseung, I want you.”

The room fell silent. A big pause before anything else happened. 

He hadn’t expected the confession. Nor had he expected to find you standing there, visibly waiting for him just to say it out loud. He lifted his gaze only to be met with the very woman who had been haunting his thoughts – the one who was always so sure of herself, so fucking intoxicatingly aware of what she wanted. 

And he couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his spine when you took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until you were right there, face to face, breath to breath, heat to heat.

Your jaw was clenched, the tension betraying the firm decision you had already made. Your eyes burned, dark with intent, and Heeseung  felt himself shrink under your presence, overwhelmed by the so commanding atmosphere you carried. And yet, despite the way his body tensed, his pulse quickened, his breath grew ragged, he felt himself growing painfully eager. Painfully hard.

Because this was exactly what he liked.

The air between you thickened, heavy with a quiet-loud anticipation. The only sound filling the space was the uneven rhythm of your breathing, tangled together, syncing, feeding into the tension neither of you dared to break. You remained steady, firm. Heeseung, on the other hand, felt his skin prickle, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. God, you were so, so unbearably sexy.

His eyes traced your features as if committing them to memory, memorizing every curve, every line, as though he would later etch them into a canvas in silent admiration. And you were doing similar. But then he noticed something. You were holding back.

Your hands, still hanging at your sides, twitched with a restless itch to reach for him, but an invisible boundary you refused to cross without permission restrained you.

So you leaned in closer, sealing the final sliver of space between you. Your forehead pressed against Heeseung’s, noses barely brushing as your breath mingled in the heated air between you. Your lashes fluttered shut, and in a voice barely above a whisper, you pleaded, “Please… tell me you want me too.”

And that was it. That was the moment Heeseung shattered. Every last ounce of hesitation, every lingering doubt, was cast aside like it had never existed in the first place.

“Please,” he echoed, though his voice trembled, thick with something raw, desperate.

Your eyes snapped open, searching his face as confusion flickered across your features. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze fully, taking in the sight of him; his slightly furrowed brows, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark, blown-out eyes bore into yours, brimming with hunger, longing, surrender.

“Please,” Heeseung whispered again, his grip tightening as he took your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours as if grounding himself in the touch. His eyes briefly dipped downward, to the sight of your intertwined hands as if it were something sacred. “I want you. So fucking much.” His voice was nearly a whimper now, thick with emotion, aching with need.

Then, slowly, Heeseung lifted your hands to his flushed cheeks and positioned them there, his own covering yours to make sure you wouldn’t let go, as he let the heat of his skin seep into your palms.

He shuddered beneath your fingertips, his breath stuttering as he leaned into the warmth you offered so freely. “Touch me,” he said within a breath, yet laced with craving, coaxing you to do so. “Use me…”

Heeseung melted into your touch like a man starved, nuzzling into your palm before pressing a soft, tender kiss to the center of it. A shiver ran down your spine at the way his lips brushed against your skin, like he was worshiping the moment, like he was silently begging for more.

And something inside you twisted, a sharp pang of affection and want so intense it left you breathless, your pulsing core now demanding some attention. This wasn’t quite what you had expected, but the way Heeseung looked at you, as though you were something divine, as if he was ready to kneel at your feet and offer himself up without a second thought, sent a wild rush of heat through your veins.

Then, locking his gaze with yours, pupils dark, blown wide and heavy with lust, he delivered the ultimate, the final spark to the fire.

“Make me yours.”

And fuck, you would.

To say your lips merely connected would be an understatement. Heeseung jolted slightly at the force with which you yanked him forward, meeting you halfway as you leaned in, sealing your mouths together in a kiss that was both lustful and unrelenting. The slow, deliberate contact created soft, intoxicating noises, your faces moving in perfect harmony to deepen the moment; the fading sugary taste of your lollipop dissolving slowly on Heeseung’s tongue.

Your bodies slotted together effortlessly, like two puzzle pieces finding their rightful place. The hands that had once cradled Heeseung’s face, now traced a heated path down his neck before threading into his hair, fingertips grazing his skin with intent. Instinctively, his own hands found your waist, gripping firmly as he pulled you flush against his warmth, as if needing you impossibly closer.

A quiet sigh slipped past your lips as Heeseung’s hands dug into your waist, boldly searching for bare skin so his fingers could start to explore better the curves of your body; the same old possessive grip holding you in place although you guided the entire of the kiss. He was letting you decide the pace, when and where he had the freedom and openness to move his tongue and suck your bottom lip.

Realizing how firm and claiming Heeseung was pushing you towards his body elicited an immediate shiver down your spine, your skin flaming hot, a warmth that was definitely palpable; Heeseung’s own state wasn’t much different, as heat coiled around you.

It was only when your lungs screamed for relief that you both pulled away, but Heeseung was utterly lost, desperate to continue feeling your warmth. He pressed wet, heated kisses down your neck, each one more urgent than the last. He longed to explore every inch of your smooth flesh, craving to discover what made you tremble with desire, focused solely on filling you with pleasure.

“Did you figure out where my room is?” The question left you in a breathless whisper, laced with suggestion, a sharp inhale breaking into a muffled groan when Heeseung sank his teeth into a tender spot on your neck before pulling back to meet your gaze.

Your eyes searched for his, dark and hooded, your faces hovered over each other’s, both caught in a slow, tantalizing rhythm – a tease, a challenge, neither closing the distance completely. His bangs, completely off place, brushed softly against your forehead. 

“So it was intentional?” Heeseung murmured skeptically, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk, his lips flushed and kiss-bruised. He was simply putting the pieces together, waiting for confirmation.

You didn’t bother hiding your wicked grin. “Not exactly. I just took a shot in the dark to see if it would pay off,” you purred, leaning in to catch his lower lip between your teeth before adding, “And judging by your reaction…” You dragged your nails lightly down the nape of his neck, savoring the way his breath hitched. “I think you’ve got the idea.”

Heeseung huffed a chuckle, “Then…” His words trailed off as his gaze flickered from your swollen lips to your piercing stare. You noticed his voice dropping an octave, taking on a dangerously alluring tone as he continued. “Should I show what I’ve learned, teacher?”

He watched as something unspoken flashed in your eyes for the briefest of moments when he called you that, his tone thick with sensuality; it was as though the roles had reversed, and now he was the one playing the provocateur.

You didn’t bother hiding how your body reacted to the murmured word, your breath visibly faltering, the hairs at the nape of your neck standing on end. But you never wavered. Your commanding stance remained unwavering, like a tree rooted so deeply that not even the fiercest storm could bring it down.

And there was something about that unshakable composure of yours that drove Heeseung absolutely insane. Only then did he realize he wouldn’t be able to maintain his role as the tease for much longer, not when you, in the most tantalizing way, flashed a side grin, wetting your lips with a slow, torturous motion, silently emphasizing that you could ruin his existence completely with ease – and he would relish every second of it.

“I like your confidence,” you murmured, raising an eyebrow, eyes dripping with a perfect blend of amusement, daring, and pure, raw desire. Heeseung’s breath came ragged, waiting. “I’d like to see you try, though.”

This wasn’t about the way to your bedroom anymore.

Unlike you, Heeseung did back down from certain challenges, knowing his limitations. And he definitely had no desire to push you just to test your limits – at least not that night. All he craved was the bare, unfiltered contact of your skin within the four walls that enclosed your bed. 

And that single realization fueled his next actions. His hands lowered to your ass, gripping firmly before hoisting you up, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

The kiss that followed was messy, because Heeseung refused to close his eyes – he didn’t trust himself not to trip along the way. You let out quiet giggles in between the feverish exchange, finding it utterly endearing how he struggled to kiss you back while also staying focused enough to walk.

The position made you keenly aware of something hard pressing against your clothed cunt; Heeseung’s growing state sent a pulse of heat surging through you, a natural clench on your walls being an indicator of your own condition.

With precise movements, you both reached your final destination. Your body ached for the comfort of your bed, ready to embrace your back… if only Heeseung hadn’t sat at the edge of the mattress with you still straddling him, offering you full control over what came next.

The kiss finally deepened with proper intent, tongues brushing slowly, melting into a molten blend of warmth and desire. Your hands framed Heeseung’s face, holding him in place, guiding him to move exactly as you pleased.

His grip on your ass slackened, shifting from possessive control to a softer hold, simply keeping you steady so you wouldn’t slip.

Your hips began rolling forward, seeking friction through the layers of fabric separating you. The movement drew a low, needy sound from Heeseung, who instinctively pressed you down against him, encouraging the rhythm.

Tired of the teasing, you let your lips wander down to his neck, claiming the sensitive skin that shuddered beneath your touch. The deliberate pace at which you explored him mirrored how his body slowly reclined with you pushing ever so slightly to sink it into the mattress, until Heeseung was completely laid out under you, at your mercy.

A devilish grin ghosted over your lips when it dawned at you the alignment you both had settled; perfectly sitting on top of the man who clearly revealed his opposition to hold control, leaving space for your dominance to appear in full display. 

Your hand briefly cupped Heeseung's cheek as your teeth grazed his prominent Adam’s apple, gently sucking the spot to soothe any lingering sting. His throat’s bulge bobbed as a quiet sigh escaped him, the sound drawing your fingers lower, tracing the defined line of his collarbone. You felt the firm texture of his bone beneath your fingertips, as your hips moved over his unmistakable hardness.

Another pleasant sound filled the dimly lit room, signaling the deepening of the night. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the passionate moment unfolding between you. 

You kept the pace agonizingly slow with your hips, your hands never staying still, mapping every inch of Heeseung’s subtly muscular body that tensed with each of your touches, from his biceps to his covered chest, until they gradually slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft skin of his stomach tighten under your fingertips. 

It was undeniable that this was affecting you too, your body burning with yearning, aching to remove the last barrier keeping your bodies apart, even though they were already so close.

You were so fucking turned on by everything; the tantalizing noises Heeseung ever so often let out, how he had closed his eyes and furrowed his forehead, lips ajar with breathy, low groans passing through, utterly consumed by the moment.

By now your panties were beyond ruined, drenched in your leaking arousal, the fabric clinging to your pussy with every subtle shift. It urged your body to respond, to stimulate yourself even faster, though it lingered deeper in the sweet tormention of anticipation rather than pushing you towards your actual release.

The rub you guided was more than intentional; your clit pressing what you deduced was Heeseung’s tip in calculated circles, the rigidness of his length easing your rhythm as you rocked back and forth.

In search of an improved position, you lifted your torso, knees bent and pressed against the bed, slotting Heeseung’s hips between them, granting easy access for your nails to shamelessly wander over his stomach. You also found better support for yourself in this new angle.

It was only then that you realized Heeseung had released your waist, letting his arms relax, though his grip on the sheets remained obvious, his knuckles whitening with each more intense roll of your hips.

You were completely unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts Heeseung was struggling to suppress, the inner battle not to completely surrender, knowing that doing so would mean having his orgasm far too soon. His tightly shut eyes weren’t simply a reaction to the pleasure; they were a desperate attempt to control the terror of losing himself and ruining the moment. Clutching the sheets grounded some rational part in him. 

Realizing you wouldn't stop anytime soon had him making the embarrassing decision to state the obvious. So amid the deafening silence, broken only by the soft moans from both of you, Heeseung’s voice sliced through.

“If you keep going, then–” he cut himself off with a shaky moan, his body betraying his words as his hips jerked upward, desperate to meet your grinding. His fingers twitched against the sheets, fighting the urge to grip your waist and force you to keep moving – a choice he made himself. “Then I won’t last…”

“Then don’t.”

His heavy eyelids fluttered open, pupils blown wide with dazed confusion after your quick, yet steady reply. The second he caught the silent demand in your eyes his breath hitched, and a shiver visibly ran through him. “What… What do you mean?”

A slow smirk curled on your lips as you laced your fingers around his wrists, pinning them to the mattress near his handsome face with enough force to act as a reminder. Your hips rolled forward, deliberate and unhurried, dragging out every friction-filled second. The heat between you was stifling, and you swore you could feel his pulse racing beneath your fingertips.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered between your piercing expression and the maddening rhythm of your hips, his flushed cheeks only growing redder. His lashes fluttered as he struggled to keep his beautiful round eyes open, his parted lips spilling out breathy whimpers, while you relished every second of it.

“You think you can cum just from me riding you fully clothed, Hee?” 

Your explanation came in the form of an ask, a very filthy, lustful guided question, your velvety tone cursing through his nerves, erasing the straight thoughts that struggled to keep existing inside his head, his self-control pathetically slipping through his inner grasp.

All Heeseung could see and feel was you, torturing his mind, pulling him deeper into the haze of overwhelming desire.

“Fuck,” he breathed a curse, head tipping back as his hands clenched into fists beneath your grip. You were unreal – his dream girl made flesh, effortlessly destroying him without even taking off a single layer of clothing. “Fuck, I definitely can, but–”

Another interruption with a beautiful whimper. Oh, you were enjoying it so much; were you in heaven? Or hell? Either way, you didn’t want to leave. 

“But…?” You urged smoothly with a mellow tone, even cocking your head to the side as if that would add a charm for your wicked character, because you, more than anyone, knew what your next decision would be.

As expected, a strangled moan escaped Heeseung when you pressed down harder, his body reacting before he could think, his back arching slightly as his expression crumbled in pleasure. 

Heeseung tried desperately to find any rational reason amid the flood of thoughts you had filled his head with – anything beyond the humiliating and obvious truth that he didn't want to reach to cum just yet.

“But I don’t have spare clothes here,” he concluded in one go, voice trembling with equal parts desperation and restraint, since he was going through a strong rush of delightful emotions. 

You hummed, amused by the fact that he could still manage to form a coherent thought in his current state. Leaning in just enough for your breath to ghost over his lips, you whispered, “Fair point, Hee,” before releasing your grip on his wrist. “Shall we solve this little problem, then?”

Without waiting for a response, you pulled away, beginning to undress your upper body, tossing your shirt carelessly onto the floor. Heeseung remained frozen in place, his hooded eyes blinking slowly, staring at the ceiling, still feeling the lingering heat of your body against his, trying to process your words.

It wasn’t until you softly murmured his nickname that his attention snapped back to you, his gaze shifting from confusion to unapologetic hunger as it took in your fully exposed form.

The gasp escaped him before he could stop it, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh at his immediate, spontaneous reaction. The warmth in your chest contrasted with the lustful heat guiding your actions and clouding your thoughts. Heeseung was too cute for your poor heart. 

“Damn,” Heeseung whispered after propping himself up on his elbows to take you in better, his eyes filled with awe as he admired your body while you approached.

His gaze traced every inch of your skin, the curves he had so often dreamed about touching, your beautiful boobs, often where he rested his cheeks within your usual hug, now laid bare in front of him, like a perfect canvas for him to finally savor.

Heeseung’s eyes stopped on your uncovered pussy, darting back to your legs every once in a millisecond as if he didn’t know where to look. You watched as he ran his tongue over his lower lip before biting it, almost as if entranced with you. 

The compliment that followed was engulfed in sincerity, leaving no room for doubt about it. And you smiled in response.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

It was common for you to receive compliments; you were aware of your beauty and felt confident in it. However, receiving a compliment from Heeseung felt different, somehow more special, because it came from someone you cared about and liked. 

You worried about being pretty in Heeseung’s eyes. 

Thanks to the soft light in your room, you didn’t have to explain why your cheeks had flushed, knowing that from the distance Heeseung wouldn’t be able to notice.

For a brief moment you thought you would have to tell him to occupy the same form as you – naked. But thankfully he understood the message loud and clear after eye-fucking your body for a while, sitting up to remove his shirt with his back turned to you. You took the opportunity to grab a condom from your nightstand.

Heeseung stood up to unbutton his belt and slip out of his jeans, which easily fell from his hips, leaving him in just his black underwear.

You already knew he had broad shoulders and a slim waist – some of his clothing choices certainly helped accentuate that discovery, and what a delightful one it was. Seeing it up close, nonetheless, had you indescribably overreacting.

The subtle muscles of his back flexed and tightened with each movement, having you clenching your cunt without even noticing. The smooth line of his spine was being accentuated by the blended dim light and silver-moonlight, which got your breath stuck in your throat; witnessing Heeseung undressing himself felt like visiting a museum, where a carved sculpture, chiseled by the gods with the softest, kindest, and most gifted hands of Olympus lived.

Your mouth watered with an unmistakable urge to bite and taste every inch of that lightly bronzed skin.

“God. And you’re a fucking sight,” you breathed, your words barely audible but filled with hunger.

Heeseung turned to look at you holding back a grin. Your eyes locked as now you sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for the little show to finish. Your mischievous smile revealed every single naughty thought that passed through your mind, and there was no shame in it.

You pressed your teeth on your bottom lip when you got a better view of his chest, your gaze leisurely roaming, taking in every tiny detail until they stopped at the bulge in his underwear. And there, your mouth salivated harder.

Heeseung remained still, relishing the way you openly admired him; the truth behind your ravenous eyes unveiled between the two of you, heightening the heat that was becoming nearly unbearable. It was clear how badly you desired him, and this had an undeniable effect on his cock, growing harder every second, pulsing with the need of some relief. 

Being adored wasn’t exactly something new to Heeseung, but he could certainly say that the way you expressed it stirred parts of him – parts he not only kept hidden from almost everyone, but was more than eager to explore with you.

And then, you purred, “Come here, hm?”

But instead of letting Heeseung come closer, you, yourself, shifted on the bed, moving onto all fours before deliberately crawling towards him, your gaze unwavering and charged, never breaking as you drew nearer. Heeseung was utterly stunned, gulping down the lump on his throat as he watched the unfolding filthy scene.

When you finally reached his handsome and ridiculously hot figure, you stopped, uplifting your torso to get on your knees and align perfectly with his height. Now face to face Heeseung finally let out the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding, his legs threatening to falter because, fucking shit, you, with your unyielding eyes and sexy demeanor, was tearing his resistance apart, breaking deliciously each part of his cohesive existence.

Oblivious to the actual state of Heeseung, your fingers reached out, barely ghosting over the sensitive flesh of his waist as you murmured extremely close to his ear, “Let me make you feel good.”

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his gaze darkened, flickering between your neck and your bare boobs. For a second, he hesitated, hands halting mid-air because the tension between you two was nearly suffocating and he feared scaring you with his neediness.

Would it be okay to touch you, now that you were naked? What if he exceeded any silent boundaries he didn’t manage to catch?

Fuck. You looked so damn beautiful with the lunar glow against your skin, your gleaming eyes dripping with arousal and hunger as they roamed over his features when you leaned back, drinking in each quarter with care and attention. Heeseung felt seen, cherished even.

With the way your fingertips traced his abdomen simply to position your hands there, patiently waiting for a green sign, it quickly shattered whatever restraint he had left.

With a quiet, breathy groan Heeseung closed the gap, his hands finding your jawline, fingers pressing into your skin with a need so raw it sent shivers down your spine. You also moaned against his lips, his tongue searching for yours to deepen the contact.

By a not-so-gentle reminder of its painful neglect, Heeseung felt his sensitive dick twitch inside his underwear when you pushed him towards the bed, easily maneuvering his body to return to the previous position you both were in. Your thigh brushed exactly on his length and elicited an immediate moan.

But before you could settle on top of him with your lips still attached to each other, Heeseung broke away with an aching whisper, breathless.

“I’m so fucking hard.”

You lifted your head enough to meet his gaze, cocking it to the side in feigned confusion – you had heard him perfectly well. “Hm?”

He looked so cute, his brow furrowed and those wide eyes of his looking at you with longing, mixed with a trace of desperation. It was clear that the said desperation was only growing, becoming undeniable as he jerked his hips upwards, seeking contact with your bare pussy.

With a playful smile, you pushed yourself apart slightly, watching him groan in frustration; but even with the firm grip on your waist, he didn’t force you downwards. 

“Don’t make me wait longer…”

You raised an eyebrow, biting your lower lip as a thought crossed your mind. You had to test the waters of a conversation that had yet to be broached between the two of you  –  this was still your first night, after all.

“Where are your manners, Heeseung?”

Your voice held no real reprimand, but Heeseung couldn’t help feeling the urge to respond properly, just as much. He sighed a curse, the sound shaky as you hovered your lips over the abused skin of his neck.

“Fuck,” Heeseung had completely lost himself as you moved your hips to press against his without a warning, wincing due to the feel of your cunt so close, so deliberately teasing him, yet ridiculously distant.

His eyes squeezed shut, lips pursing tightly together in an effort to suppress the pathetic sounds threatening to escape. Heat rushed to his face, the flush of embarrassment coloring his skin as he realized how effortlessly you had taken control of him; the way you wore your behavior, so assertively and confident, was making him feel vulnerable in the best way possible. 

Heeseung’s voice cracked when he finally let out a frustrated but, crucially, submissive murmur. “Sorry… Please. Just don’t make me wait any longer– I need you. I’m so hard. Please…”

The waters had been tested, proving themselves warm and inviting. Heeseung responded well to your teasing and demeanor, his reactions fueling your confidence. So, you took the plunge, leaning in until your lips barely grazed the shell of his ear. 

“Good boy.”

A strange wave crashed through his body the moment his brain processed those syllables, piecing them together into a phrase that sent a jolt straight to his core. Good boy? Fuck. Heeseung barely managed to suppress a whimper, his muscles tensing as if trying to contain the way it unraveled him.

Being called that shouldn’t affect him so much, but how could he blame himself? You looked hot, sounded hotter, and the way you said it, so effortlessly sultry, made something in him snap. He realized then that he craved being your good boy more than he was willing to admit. If he weren’t so aware of his own self-destructive tendencies he would have half a mind to set your voice as his ringtone, only to hear it over and over. But he knew better. Knew he would end up ridiculously hard every time his phone rang.

Your wicked smirk told him everything – you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Enjoying the palpable control you had over his being, you leaned back just enough to catch the flicker of change on his flushed face. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, swimming with undivided attention and unspoken need. A heavy pulse throbbed beneath you, and instinctively, you clenched in response.

With a mocking tilt of your head, you let your voice drop to a sarcastic, almost bitter tone, “Let’s take off this last piece, shall we?” You motioned to his underwear, helping to remove it once he obeyed you. “I don’t want to make you wait any longer.” 

Heeseung grasped the scorn in words right away, the feigned sense of authority you offered hanging in the air and, ironically enough, elicited a breathy chuckle from his throat. 

It seemed Heeseung had finally found the woman he had always dreamed of – just as you felt a thrill coursing through your veins at the sight of a man so willing to accept your demanding behavior in the bedroom.

Your gaze dropped briefly to Heeseung’s lower body, eyes catching the sight of his cock standing angry and painfully hard, its impatience nearly palpable as it waited to be enveloped by your warmth. With a mental note to appreciate that part better later, you focused simply on putting the condom, jerking off a few times just to make sure it was right. 

Positioned just right, you aligned his leaking tip with your pulsing entrance, supporting yourself by pressing your hands firmly against his chest. The subtle brush of skin against skin had Heeseung letting out a shaky sigh, his hands that had once held your hips now rising to rest gently on your waist, trembling under the weight of anticipation.

He wasn’t just sensitive; he was on edge – nervous in more ways than one. He wasn’t sure how long he would last given the teasing foreplay, and with you pushing him to the brink, he wasn’t confident he would be able to go much longer than a few minutes. But the thing was, he wanted to last. He wanted to make a good impression, to show that he had the stamina and endurance to handle whatever you asked of him. He had lasted this long, so surely, he could hold on a little longer, right?

What he didn’t realize was that the idea of reaching the peak so quickly excited you just as much as the thought of lasting. Knowing that you could reduce him to the point where he would cum fast sent an odd, pleasurable thrill deep into your stomach.

Your eyes locked, Heeseung’s wide-round ones full of both eagerness and caution. Meanwhile, you maintained your poise, your charisma unwavering.

“Shit,” you muttered softly as you sank down, feeling him fill you completely.

You almost felt ridiculous for forcing your eyes to stay open, but you couldn’t help it.

To savor the sight of Heeseung’s lips slightly parted, his breath hitching as his lashes fluttered and his head tipped back was incomparable. The sight of his exposed, sweaty neck, the prominent Adam’s apple jutting out in an almost sinful way, was too much. Without realizing it, you clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Heeseung cursed back, trying to push you further down, hoping to reach the deepest part of you.

At first, you allowed him to guide you without resistance, the sensation of him fully inside you making a pleasurable sigh slip from your lips. But as Heeseung attempted to push you into movement without waiting for your adjustment you steadied yourself, securely resisting as a silent reminder. Just to make sure, you verbalized.

“Nuh-uh,” a mischievous grin curled your lips as you looked down at him, now with open eyes, pouting and frowning at you in a blend of frustration and confusion. “It’s cute how much you think you’re in control.”

His gaze faltered as your words fully sank in, the realization hitting him like a slow, delicious burn – he had absolutely idea what he had just gotten himself into. And, God, he wanted it. 

Of course, you would set the pace. Of course, you would call the shots. And him? He would take whatever you were willing to give. That’s what he deserved – what any man would be lucky to have. A woman like you, deciding exactly what to do with him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice small, almost shaky. As if repenting for his misstep, he hesitated before slowly removing his hands from where they had rested, leaving them suspended in the air, an unspoken plea for forgiveness.

You found it adorable.

A soft, amused chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His irises, warm and desperate, watched you intently, hanging onto your next move with delicious longing. You reached for his wrists, gently guiding them up before pinning them to the mattress, securing them above his head.

Something about the action made Heeseung’s skin prickle with a new kind of excitement. It felt foreign but in the best way – like dipping his toes into uncharted territory and finding himself desperate to dive in. He wanted more. Feeling your warmth around him wasn’t enough. The snug heat of your walls was intoxicating, but it lacked the friction he was beginning to ache for.

“Relax,” you mused, maintaining eye contact as you read the conflict in his gaze. “I’m not that cruel.”

And with that, you rolled your hips forward, then back, deliberately slow, setting a languid rhythm that promised to build.

A guttural moan tore from Heeseung’s throat, as if he had been holding it in for God knows how long. His arms twitched, instinctively testing your grip. He could’ve easily broken free, his strength alone was enough to flip the entire situation in his favor. But he didn’t. He stayed there, restrained beneath you, completely at your mercy.

And knowing that Heeseung, tall, strong, capable, could take control at any moment, but chose not to? That alone drove you absolutely insane.

With a newfound determination – one guided by the desire to give that man just as much pleasure as he was giving you – you quickened your pace. Your own sounds spilled from your lips, unrestrained, unchecked, lost to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

To Heeseung it was nothing short of a celestial choir. The delicate pitch of your moans, the breathy whimpers slipping through in between sent shivers down his spine. Every sound you made felt like a melody crafted just for him, threading through his veins, coiling low in his stomach, making it near impossible to think straight.

He did his best to meet your movements, hips twitching as he attempted to thrust upward, but the position did him no favors; his efforts were stifled, his range of motion limited, and as if that weren’t enough to set him on the edge, the sinful sight of your breasts bouncing right in front of him, so close yet just out of reach, only worsened his predicament.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groaned, his voice laced with frustration and raw need. A slow, burning heat spread through his body, intensifying with each calculated movement of your hips, the sensation pooling deep in his lower stomach.

Your gaze drifted to his face, taking in the way his features twisted in pleasure. His eyes barely managed to stay open, rolling back as the squeeze of your walls tightened around him, gripping him in a way that made his breath hitch.

Your hips now moved with purpose, with intention; the way you shifted your motions between rocking back and forth, to bouncing, to drawing circles, making sure his dick touched every part of your warm and slick interior was maddening. 

And Heeseung’s body ached for yours just as much. 

“Please–” The first actual plea fell past his parted lips, a cry tone covering each syllable with an attractive lust. “Don't stop. I’m getting close–”

Defying his request, however, you decided to slowly decrease your pace to something that drew Heeseung way too close to completely losing it. He looked at you like you were crazy, though he also had the chance to appreciate the faint light that bathed the room, the silver moonlight gleaming on your skin like an ethereal, priceless painting.

Your actions, on the other hand, were evil as hell.

In between a soft giggle, you leaned forward to approach his lips, muttering, “You want that, don't you?”

A silent nod and one more broken, whispered “Please,” from him graced your ears, eliciting your smile to grow wickedly. Then, you brushed your lips against his in a fleeting kiss, barely there, just enough to tease.

As you pulled away, you caught his bottom lip between yours, sucking it gently before letting it slip free with a soft, wet pop. The momentary loss of contact had Heeseung chasing after you, his body acting on pure instinct, pathetically desperate, but you only watched, amused at his demeanor.

You released his wrists, only to guide his warm hands to the connection of your waist and thighs, your own palms covering them to ensure they stayed exactly where you wanted.

With your back straight and posture unwavering, your body went completely still as you lifted yourself ever so slightly – just enough to leave only the pulsing tip of his length nestled inside you, offering no friction, no relief.

“I'm not moving, Hee…” The teasing lilt in your voice was so blatant it was almost cruel.

Heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze roaming over you, trying to ground himself in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers. But it was useless, he was already too far gone, lost in the pleasure that you so effortlessly denied him.

With a voice like silk, dripping with wicked delight, you murmured, “Show me how desperate you are.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his lightly teary eyes darting up to meet yours before flickering downward, lingering on the tantalizing view of your bare chest, and finally settling on where your bodies were still joined.

There was a flash of hesitation, of confusion and innocence, but the moment he caught the knowing smirk on your lips, the way you remained idle, expectant, understanding dawned on him.

“Come on, Hee,” you urged, rolling your hips just enough to offer the barest hint of friction, a mere whisper of what he craved. “Be a good boy for me, mmh?”

Heeseung's grip on your sides tightened with fervor, his darkened gaze searching yours for confirmation – a silent plea to ensure this was exactly what you wanted. The subtle nod you gave was all he needed. Bracing himself, he propped his knees up, pressing his feet into the mattress for support before thrusting into you.

The first stroke was tentative, his body shuddering as he fully sheathed himself inside you once more, adjusting to the scorching heat that enveloped him. But once he settled, his hesitation melted into determination. Heeseung seized your hips, pulling you down with the same force he drove upward, setting a relentless rhythm that filled the air with the sinful melody of skin meeting skin, mingling with the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your hands instinctively sought stability against the headboard, but the moment Heeseung found that sweet spot inside you, angled just right, you abandoned any attempt. Instead, you melted against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your moans and breathless whimpers vibrating against his sweat-slicked skin. Your fingers tangled in his messy strands, clutching for purchase as pleasure spiraled higher.

“Hee–Heeseung,” you nearly sobbed, your voice trembling, a blissful hum following right after. “Right there. Right fucking there,” you gritted out, laced with a warning tone so he wouldn’t dare to stop. 

And he wouldn’t. Not when you squeezed around him like that. Not when your voice turned so sweetly desperate near his ear. Not when he felt you tremble with each merciless thrust straight into that spot.

The coil felt impossibly tight, the telltale heat building in his core, threatening to snap at any second. Heeseung was helpless to fight it, his release crashing over him with overwhelming intensity; his entire body tensed as he slammed his hips up one final time, holding you there, buried to the hilt, shaking as he moaned your name with shameless abandon. 

The way he gripped you, the way he trembled beneath you, the guttural sounds spilling from his lips and, fuck, how firmly he pressed right into your cervix was more than enough to push you over the edge. You shattered around him, clenching so hard it pulled another ragged groan from his throat, your own cries of pleasure filling the space as you unraveled together.

Heeseung filled the condom inside of your sensitiveness and sent a wave of aftershock through your body, the pleasant high still coating your senses

Heavy, ragged breaths were all that remained in the aftermath, your thighs burning with exhaustion, your body too spent to move. Heeseung was no better – completely dazed, lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure.

At some point, Heeseung genuinely wondered if he had just died; his entire body slackened after holding so much tension and releasing it through an overwhelming orgasm, a blissful numbness overtaking his limbs. And honestly? If this was the afterlife, he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer.

Monday morning felt as ordinary as any other – except it wasn’t. Not really. Because, apparently, your new normal now involved making out with Heeseung in the parking lot, tucked away behind his car like a couple of reckless teenagers sneaking around.

The difference? You were both adults. Professors, no less. The same ones who had caught students kissing in this very spot more times than you could count.

“Will I see you later?” You asked, voice deliberately sweet, a playful melody slipping through.

It was a side of you that only surfaced around Heeseung, one he seemed to enjoy, judging by the way he looked at you – eyes filled with something warm, something fond.

His hands rested securely on your waist, your arms draped over his shoulders, fingers idly playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Everything was in its rightful place.

“Not sure if I can, babe.”

Babe.

The pet name had rolled off his tongue for the first time that morning when he greeted you, as effortless as the kiss that followed, although he had cheeks burning in shyness afraid of your reaction. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind one bit; not when it sent a pleasant flutter through your chest, butterflies swirling in your stomach at the sound of it. It was far too nice of a feeling to brush off.

You pouted, though you didn’t push for an answer. “That’s okay.”

Still, Heeseung felt the need to explain. “I’ve got a meeting with the principal.”

The mere mention of that title made your heart jolt and a brief grimace filled your features. Your gaze darted around on instinct, as if expecting the man to materialize out of thin air. Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused with your adorable reaction. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one freaking out?” He teased, tilting your chin up so you would meet his gaze again. His thumb brushed over your jaw in a way that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. “I’m the new hire, after all. Your job is way more secure than mine.”

“Which is exactly why I’m being careful,” you shot back, your playful smirk making him shake his head, clicking his tongue. “I don’t wanna have to visit you at another school.”

“Idiot,” he huffed, rolling his eyes before kissing you again, shutting you up effectively, as your giggle got lost amidst the touch.

That newfound intimacy with Heeseung was sudden, yet it could easily become a routine – one you would never tire of, nor worry about growing dull. There was an undeniable clarity in how every touch, every exchange with him felt like it would only surprise and satisfy you more than the last. The way he held you, how he enveloped you in a cocoon of warmth and quiet affection, was something you allowed yourself to sink into without resistance. 

The previous day had been an unintentional experiment, one that had answered questions you hadn’t even realized you had. 

Truth be told, your interest in Heeseung had sparked the very first time you met. The tension, the lingering glances, the way your breath hitched in his presence – it had all been telling signs that liking him was inevitable. Falling for him? Even more so. He not only embraced your personality but adapted to it so effortlessly, just as you found yourself welcoming every meticulous, endearing detail about him. Falling for Heeseung felt easy. Natural. Maybe even fated.

Kissing him was like dissolving into an ocean of calm and reassurance you hadn’t known you craved – or needed. Kissing him was slowly, irrevocably, becoming everything.

The chime of your phone interrupted the moment, the alarm you had set reminding you that it was time to head inside. Yes. You had both arrived early just to steal a few moments alone, and yes, you had actually set a timer to make sure you wouldn’t lose track of time.

As you pulled away, your gaze immediately sought his, desperate to capture one last glimpse of that breathtaking face.

“Well, guess I’ll see you around,” you sighed, lips jutting out in another small pout. The idea of not seeing him again for the rest of the day left a dull ache in your chest, and in the past, that feeling might have unsettled you.

But here, with his hands still firm on your waist, grounding you, you could only think of how much more you wanted to stay and feel everything he could yield to you.

Heeseung smirked before pecking your lips quickly, his eyes glinting with something that was equal parts fondness and longing – with just a hint of something else. Something that told you he, too, wished he could spend the rest of the day with you. Or maybe all the days after that.

“See you, babe.”

So saying your classes had been boring ever since was an understatement. Sure, you loved what you did. You had studied and dedicated yourself from day one to get where you were. Designing projects, planning assignments, even crafting exams gave you a very particular thrill that nothing else quite matched – until Heeseung came along.

Not having him around left you restless, almost anxious, like counting the minutes wasn’t enough to settle you. You needed him here. Every single second.

The problem was that work consumed both of you in ways neither could escape. As a new hire, Heeseung was still juggling personal studies while handling the avalanche of subjects thrown onto his plate to deal with. You, on the other hand, already a few steps ahead in the hierarchy, carried the weight of being a solid reference for others, staying committed to improving every day, striving towards eventually securing a senior position.

Making a name for yourself in academia demanded everything – writing papers, conducting deeper, more intensive research. You had carved out time in your routine to focus on it. But now, all you could focus on was Heeseung.

Heeseung was affecting your emotions, your life, and your behavior. There was no denying it.

Throughout your life, you had always been decisive, firm in your choices, knowing what was best for you without hesitation. Sure, there was a level of flexibility and freedom, but even that was deeply tied to your essence. You grew up in spaces that tried to tame you, but that only made you more aware of your own vastness, the greatness you wanted to embrace.

There were no second thoughts. Not frequently, at least. There was no other way to be yourself without shutting out external noise, without disregarding the opinions of those who barely knew you. That built a barrier, one you had come to see as normal, where only a select few ever glimpsed your vulnerability. The thought of being seen in your most hesitant, insecure state was terrifying.

Then, Heeseung.

He made you vulnerable, somehow, to be open about worries you would usually brush off and avoid talking about, and it never felt forced; it was effortless, natural, he genuinely wanted to listen, and even help.

At the same time, he made you self-conscious about things you had never cared for before. Your hair, your outfit choices – would they draw the same reaction he always gave you? That slow, shameless gaze, eyes dark with attraction, followed by a compliment so sweet it almost rivaled the warmth in his own deep, espresso-colored stare.

He had you questioning if you fit into the mold of what he might want, never realizing that, to him, you as you were had always been enough.

At home, staring at the empty page of the research paper you were supposed to be working on, your mind was nowhere near academic focus. It was filled with the longing to have him close. No ulterior motives, no underlying intentions, just his presence. Just him. The warmth of his scent in the air, grounding you, centering you.

A thought lingered in the back of your mind. Was it too much to wish you were already living together? Or at least close enough to have him around all the time? You could picture it so clearly: the faint smell of soap clinging to the air as he walked into your office, setting a fresh cup of coffee on your desk, dressed in cozy, oversized clothes, his usual soft expression in place, trying to coax you to bed with him using those beautiful bambi-eyes.

Fuck.

Your fingers curled around your phone instinctively, his contact already pulled up before you even processed the action. But just as quickly, you let out a sharp breath and placed it back down, screen-side down on the desk. Running your hands over your temples, you exhaled, forcing yourself to focus back on the laptop in front of you.

In terms of relationships, balance had never been your strong suit if you tried to be honest; not knowing when to shut out emotions and focus solely on work because of affectual interests, or when to let yourself indulge in personal desires – especially now, when Heeseung had completely messed with your ability to separate the two. 

Because everything with him felt inevitable. The meetings, the glances, the desire. And whatever this was, this unnamed thing between you, it was starting to feel dangerously close to building a place to settle that thing called love. 

On a side note, there was this ongoing feeling of going too fast, of overdoing. The kiss was alright in terms of period, but the sex only two days later? Wasn’t it too… exaggerated? Did it really please him?

You were always so sure of yourself, yet, with Heeseung, you were walking a tightrope, afraid of losing him or losing yourself in the process. Sex with him had only intensified things, your mind spinning amidst a dense cloud of thoughts. Whatever fragile restraints had been holding you back from falling completely had snapped, like some unseen force was screaming at you to open your eyes.

He was exactly what you wanted.

But what if it all fell apart? What if he didn’t want anything serious? The doubts tried to creep in, but the image of his charming smile fought to erase them. Heeseung.

The man who carried a quiet, bashful aura but sometimes put on a confident front, only to fumble shortly after, making you laugh at how effortlessly endearing he was.

The man who hesitated to touch you but, when he did, held you with certainty, with possession, as if having you close was the only thing he was ever sure of.

The man who memorized your coffee order and would show up in the morning with a steaming cup, shrugging casually as he muttered, “The morning coffee here kinda sucks. A pretty girl once taught me that. So, I got you a real one.”

The man who read you so easily, as if every little part of you was worth memorizing. 

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath, the sound of your own voice startling you in the silence that had settled over the past few hours – save for the rustling leaves outside and the mess inside your mind.

You bit down on your lower lip, your chest tightening with a feeling you could only name as longing. There was no other explanation. You missed Heeseung.

After days of sneaking moments together before classes, and barely having time to exchange messages in between, Heeseung had become part of your routine, fitting like a moon pulling the tide just right, a slow dance of heartbeats syncing. And you wanted him to stay in it.

But then came the tide of uncertainties. Would he slip away just as quickly as he had settled in? Were you moving too fast? Would it hurt to dive headfirst into something so intense? Yet, Heeseung wasn’t shallow waters, you wouldn’t hit rock bottom if you chose to dive into the depth of him.

Still, amidst the inner turmoil, the voice of reason, one that years of therapy had helped you shape, resurfaced: you wouldn’t know unless you asked. If he wasn’t truthful, that was on him, but all you could do was trust the words he chose to give you.

And Heeseung had never given you a reason to doubt him. There was no air of deception in his presence, no undertone of dishonesty in his words. His gaze held sincerity, his smile radiated warmth. He seemed genuine in everything he did, in every subtle move, in every interaction. In the way his lips ghosted over yours, the way he pulled you close, the way he let you take the lead more often than not.

He was just… too good.

You barely noticed your fingers sliding across your phone screen until you found his contact, dialing before you could second-guess yourself. No warning, no message, just your voice reaching out to him in the thick of the night, unfiltered, unguarded.

With each ring, your heart pounded harder, matching the steady rhythm of it. And when Heeseung finally answered, his voice rough with sleep yet laced with that familiar tenderness he always carried when it came to you, your breath hitched. No explanations, no preamble. Without thinking, without even registering how late it was or that you had probably woken him, you asked.

“Do you think we're going too fast?”

On the other end of the line, Heeseung, who had just settled into the comfort of his bed after reviewing his lessons for the next day, immediately sat up to give you his full attention. Instead of probing further, he picked up on the underlying worry in your voice, the slight hint of anxiety, and chose his words carefully.

“No, I don’t think we are. Honestly, we’re just right, babe,” he said, with a double meaning carefully embedded not just to respond to your question but to remove any lingering doubts. His voice, as soft as ever, was clear when he added, “What made you think we’re moving too fast, love?”

Love.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, unable to suppress the immediate reaction that his endearment caused. Another one added to the collection, this one carrying a different weight – one that sank deep in your stomach, settling in your chest in a surreal... but strangely comforting way.

Unbeknownst to you, Heeseung found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions; a tremor of apprehension coursing through his veins, yet warmth blooming in his chest, right where his heart pounded just a little too fast, a little too hard. He couldn’t deny the pet name had rolled off his tongue without forethought, slipping past his lips as naturally as a heartbeat. 

He waited in the silence, not just because he feared he had messed up, but because he genuinely wanted you to clarify the reason behind your sudden call and the unexpected question. He respected your need to reflect before responding.

But the silence... It was growing deafening.

“I– I don’t know what’ve gotten to me, actually,” you finally confessed, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of your own words before they left your mouth. “I think it’s just a fear of losing what we have, mixed with a hesitation to dive into something that’s giving me some uncertainty.”

Now it was Heeseung’s turn to let silence speak for him. Uncertainty? Was that what he was making you feel? Unsure? The thought alone sent a heavy weight crashing down on his chest, his stomach dropping as a chill spread through his body, seeping into his bones like ice water. His throat tightened, the unspoken question lodged there, thick and heavy, pressing against his vocal cords until he finally forced it out.

“Am I giving you uncertainty, Y/N?”

The change in Heeseung’s voice, from soft to serious, was evident and sent an instant wave of panic through you.

“No!” You responded urgently, your voice rising a few notes, and you automatically straightened up in your chair as though it would help to elucidate what you meant. “No, not you. Not at all. Quite the opposite. I trust everything you do and show me through your actions and words. I trust what you say. I trust how you feel. I trust you.”

“It’s good to know,” he replied, his voice softer again, “because I trust you too. In every way.”

There was a thin, delicate line between the weight of his words, a line that stretched from your physical connection previously explored to the deeper trust you were building together. You both were learning how to create a comfortable space for one another, even though it sometimes came with its own set of challenges and discomfort.

Another moment of silence stretched out between you two as though the air itself had become weighed down by invisible clouds of tension. It was like a storm had suddenly rolled in, filling the room with a suffocating pressure that made it difficult to breathe; your lungs felt tight, struggling to maintain a normal rhythm.

But Heeseung… Heeseung was the one who read you once again. It was as if he could read every chapter of your life with a quiet understanding, his fingers tracing each line of your story with such ease. It wasn’t about knowing what came next or predicting the end, it was about savoring the journey, knowing that each new chapter would only lead him to admire you more and want you just as much.

Breaking the silence, his voice was gentle when he said. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming in a few.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, your shoulders shifting slightly as you did so, “Yeah. There is.”

Heeseung had fully reclined against the headboard of his bed by now, his legs stretched out and subtly fidgeting with a subtle, almost sweet kind of nervousness – the kind that felt eerily, yet delightfully similar to having a crush.

Heeseung flushed easily whenever you looked at him for too long, and quickly averted his gaze when you crossed paths in the hall, afraid that his emotions might spill over and give him away. His ears would go red every time you complimented him, and the memories of the night you two shared would replay in his mind over and over again, stirring sensations that were both tender and a little... impolite.

And to top it all off, wrapping it up together, it was impossible for him to hide the way his heart raced at just the thought of seeing you, let alone touching you, kissing you, or being in more intimate, vulnerable spaces with you – not only sexually but in terms of personal experiences, too.

Exploring different aspects of life with you sounded exciting, he could feel his pulse quickening with some kind of thrill he couldn’t remember experiencing before. Right now, however, the throbbing beats of his heart signaled dread, pointing out that he wasn’t just excited to continue on that path with you, but he feared losing the possibility to do so. 

“I trust you, Hee.” Simply to be certain, you repeated yourself. “But I can’t lie that this scares me to some extent,” Heeseung hummed in agreement for you to keep talking. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling shy. “I don’t think I ever cared this much about how things were going, y’know? I never cared if I should wear a color that someone thinks looks pretty on me. Or that I should act some way… Or even if I– if I had sex before actually dating someone. I don’t have a problem with that.”

On the other side, Heeseung blushed. It was the actual first time that “dating” was brought into a conversation between you two and although it was the natural course of relationships, he never thought about having to ask you to be his girlfriend.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but because he thought it was more than obvious that he was with you and only you. Hearing those words, though, shed light on his thoughts, and he made a mental note to plan something special and ask you to be his girlfriend.

Heeseung was willing to listen to every little concern you had and to offer you the security you needed. And if that meant simply asking you to be his, then he would do so with all the joy in the world.

“And then you call me love.”

There it was, the root of the issue. Heeseung sighed softly, but it wasn’t a sigh of exhaustion from what you were saying, it was more of a realization, a moment where everything clicked and he finally understood what had been causing all these thoughts to swirl around.

“Y/N,” he said gently, your name flowing from his lips like honey. You hummed in response. “First of all, I’m sorry for not clarifying my intentions better. I don’t think we’re moving too fast. In fact, I really like our dynamic and how we seem to make things work between us.”

Hearing his side of things, without having to imagine terrible monsters in your head, was freeing. You finally understood what set Heeseung apart from the others: he made a point to communicate and, most importantly, to listen to you.

“And... I called you ‘love’ not because I love you. Not yet.” Instead of the weight of heartache and unrelenting tension, you... relaxed. There was no pressure for any rush. “I called you love because I think it’s a cute nickname, and I do want to love you, Y/N. Eventually.” He paused, his voice thick with sincerity. “I think love is something that’s built, crafted little by little, by both sides. I don’t say it if I don’t mean it.”

A smile spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest. “I want to love you too, Hee.”

“So let’s take this at our pace. How does that sound?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, as though his thoughts had passed the barrier of caution and were now spilling out freely. “I want to kiss you every morning before work because I like you. But you don’t have to feel pressured to like me back.”

“I do like you, though,” you murmured quietly, almost like it was a secret.

Heeseung chuckled softly, a low, subtle sound that perfectly matched the soothing atmosphere that had settled around you both. “I’m thankful then.”

A gentle silence fell over the moment, your heart racing, but not from anxiety. It was because, for the first time, you felt like you had found someone truly important, someone special and irreplaceable, who seemed willing to build something real with you.

If Heeseung read you like his favorite book, you wanted to create an incredible story with him. And with that thought, you asked, under the moonlight that spilled through your curtains.

“Let’s start our chapter one. Shall we?”

“I love kissing you, oh my God,” Heeseung whispered against your mouth, words muffed as you pressed your bodies together.

With only a few minutes left before the lecture you both were set to deliver, a sudden wave of nervousness crashed over you, hitting deep as the realization settled: soon, you would be sharing the stage to talk about an extremely important topic with the very man who had starred in your most sinful dreams. Dreams that, over the past few weeks, had shifted from mere fantasy into breathtaking reality.

It was a relatively large lecture in terms of audience size, and while it was the kind of event you genuinely enjoyed with a dynamic exchange of ideas between the speakers, with the audience observing the unfolding of thoughts, you had been assigned as the main host.

Heeseung, still new to this environment, was positioned as the co-host, with you acting as his guide, leading the discussion and stepping in if needed.

Not once did you doubt Heeseung’s abilities. Over the past few days, both of you had dedicated intense yet careful effort to reviewing every key point, ensuring that nothing was left unpolished. That was when you noticed just how similar he was to you. He preferred to structure his speech around key topics, allowing the conversation to flow naturally, trusting in his knowledge rather than rigidly following a script.

And, God, was he hot when he read through his notes with furrowed eyebrows in deep concentration, glasses perched perfectly on his round, yet pointy nose, those dark eyes scanning the words with precise focus. It was unfair, really, how effortlessly attractive he looked while working.

Furthermore, Heeseung showed signs of apprehension as well during the minutes before starting it; added with how delectable he looked in that dress shirt and gold-framed glasses and to kill two birds with one stone, you lured the said man into following you to a nearby bathroom, using the excuse of needing his help to grab some materials you forgot in another class.

In reality, your plan was to grab his collar and pull him into the confined space to share some kisses. And of course, the kisses were leading to something way more far than you expected.

Heeseung had discovered that kissing you was his favorite sport, and even as his lungs burned and begged for relief, he would rather lose himself in your lips than pull away. Dying in your arms because he couldn’t bear to let you go sounded both poetic and achingly genuine.

Then, there was almost a shift, as though a switch clicked, and the kiss would grow deeper and more wanting. It remained slow, perfectly slow and affectionate, but carried an undeniable neediness. Hands once resting respectfully on waists and necks would begin to wander, indulging in the freedom to explore lustful territories, and Heeseung’s body would start to betray him, throbbing in anticipation. 

That one kiss, however, was escalating quickly into a frantic rhythm, heading towards a heated and intense atmosphere far too inappropriate for a workplace. But, on your part, you seemed to care little, feeling a burning need for him like never before.

It was an odd sensation, this overwhelming desire to have Heeseung inside you in the most sinful way possible. The kiss, which had started as a means to calm your nerves, quickly morphed into a chaotic tangle of hands ruffling clothes and hair, desperately grabbing at any inch of covered and exposed skin as a way to relieve the growing arousal between you two. Breaths intertwined in a fiery rhythm, each exhale more desperate than the last.

“Fuck,” you moaned against Heeseung’s lips as his large hands gripped your ass, squeezing with an urgency that made your head spin and your breath to hitch. 

Your beautiful noise triggered an electric pulse that shot straight to Heeseung’s arousal state, causing his dick to become increasingly stiff, the fabric around it starting to feel suffocating. He pushed you back against the sink’s counter, lifting you effortlessly and seating you on the edge, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Your fingers gripped his face tightly, almost as if you were afraid of losing him, weaving into his tousled hair, feeling the soft strands that had grown just enough to become your new addiction. Heeseung’s touch was like a drug, each caress making it harder to pull away from him, as if losing yourself amidst his brown locks would somehow break the spell.

His hands roamed lower, exploring with a quiet urgency, trying to trace every inch of you without leaving actual marks; your thighs were his favorite place to lose himself and in any other given moment he would definitely be buried deep between them.

Seeking a break to allow your breaths to find a steady rhythm, Heeseung trailed his lips down your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. Yet, his movements were slightly hindered by the persistent frame of his glasses, which kept getting in the way , nudging against your skin, slipping down his nose, and frustrating his efforts to fully indulge in the moment. 

Although he struggled to ignore, he made sure one of his hands remained firmly planted on the marble surface behind you, ensuring you wouldn't lose balance, while the other wandered shamelessly over your thigh, fingertips tracing the fabric of your tailored slacks with deliberate intent.

“You look so fucking good in these,” he murmured between wet, heated kisses, his lips mapping out the sensitive spot on your neck he already knew too well.

A soft, breathy chuckle escaped you as you tilted your head back, granting him full access, your own fingers getting lost amidst his hair, pulling him closer. But just as quickly as the amusement flickered across your face, it melted into an expression contorted in pleasure, body betraying you.

“I always wear these…” You managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Heeseung let out a low giggle against your skin, a sinful sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Exactly,” he mused, voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re always so fucking hot.”

Without even realizing it, your hips rolled forward, chasing the friction your body so desperately craved. And it was only then, as a deep heat pooled low in your stomach, that you became fully aware of just how ruined your panties already were. You were wet and needy for something, for someone. Precisely, for Heeseung. 

Having his touch so close to your pulsing cunt made it difficult not to get more demanding of contact, to succumb into whatever he was willing to give you, so you guided your command. 

“Help me remove it.”

Heeseung didn’t question further – he didn’t have to. Not when you had made your intentions crystal clear as your hand trailed down to unbutton your pants, fingers working decisively and quickly. Without hesitation, you reached for his hand, leading it to the waistband of your pants and urging him to tug them down, silently inviting him to take things beyond mere kisses.

The air was thicker than ever when Heeseung halted his kisses on your neck and saw your bare thighs as well as a glimpse of the wet spot in your panties, swallowing the lump formed in his throat. His body reacted immediately, the sight setting every nerve on fire and making it impossible to focus on anything else other than your pussy.

His lips fell ajar, whispering ragged breaths that rawly exposed his desire; the clenched jaw also was an indicator he was getting just as needy, and his cock growing heavier and harder inside his underwear was barely containable. 

“I want your fingers,” within a murmur, you revealed what you wanted once realization hit you about Heeseung. He was about to get on his knees in order to be at the height of your pulsing core, his eyes locked with it as if he was in trance, but you didn’t have time to enjoy a proper head. 

Besides, that part of his body was definitely one of your biggest weaknesses. 

Heeseung looked at you with that mesmerizing gaze, filled with a type of confusion and innocence that you only met in them, where somehow it molded a perfect fuckable expression that gnawed at your necessity of ruining it.

Then, you pulled the hand resting in your thigh to guide it towards your mouth, where you gently wrapped your lips around his middle and ring finger, enveloping them into the warmthness of your humid interior; your tongue danced between them as you deliberately sucked, not once breaking eye contact. 

Heeseung’s breath struggled to keep a pace, his eyes charmed by the alluring view you were giving – and for free. He was focused, as if you were spilling all the important information in the world to him; instead, you were making his dick twitch, since the feeling of your wet muscle brushing against his skin were sending straightforward messages to his sensitive and neglected area. He had to hold back a pathetic whimper threatening to escape.

With a smirk, you released Heeseung’s fingers slightly covered in your saliva, a string of the fluid connecting both areas, but held them close to your lips, grazing over it.

When you next talked, it tickled both skins. “I want them,” and, slowly but surely, you directed his hand downwards, Heeseung intense stare following until you stopped on your pussy, where, with your other hand, you pushed your underwear to the side. “Here.”

It was amusing and funny to perceive the way Heeseung’s breath hitched in his throat before he let out a sharp gasp, his gaze locking onto yours in search of an answer beyond the obvious, like he was utterly stunned with your request.

“Right now?” He asked, his voice airy, every ounce of disbelief laid bare as well as the typical hint of innocence and confusion. Heeseung was so fucking adorable. Having his big bambi eyes decorated by those gold-framed glasses was a sinful image.

Yet, his reaction stood in contrast to his actions; he was already closing the small space between you, his fingers, the very ones you had guided there, now teasing against your pulsing, needy pussy.

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, a taunting sultry grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “Right now.”

Heeseung watched in awe and with his heartbeats accelerated how confident on your demand you were by forcing his fingers inside before releasing your grip, leaving your wetness in full display to his digits to play with; you had flattened your palms on the counter beneath you, searching for support and to grant easier access.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling the unmistakable throb of his dick inside his underwear. 

Randomly, a flicker of moral consciousness urged Heeseung to glance towards the locked bathroom door, as if someone might materialize out of thin air and catch the two of you in an undeniably compromising position.

This wasn’t him. He had always been the ideal student and eventually the dedicated professional, the man who prided himself on focus and discipline… But how the hell was he supposed to resist you?

The restroom you had chosen was one reserved for faculty – small but comfortable, designed for privacy, with only a single stall and sink. More than enough space to accommodate two professors caught in the heat of their desires.

Unlike Heeseung, you weren’t oblivious to the whispered stories of other faculty members using the same space for similar purposes, and that knowledge alone reassured you that the risk of getting caught was low.

But Heeseung’s sudden hesitation became palpable when he turned to look at you, one of his fingers still slowly burying itself inside you, yet his expression now laced with uncertainty, concern evident in the subtle furrow of his brows.

“Relax, baby,” you murmured, voice tinged with quiet reassurance as you rolled your hips forward, urging him deeper. Your half-lidded eyes locked onto his, inviting, unwavering. Heeseung winced. “I need you, hm?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His breath faltered. And as if your words had snapped the last thread of restraint holding him back, his hesitation melted away, replaced by something darker, more desperate.

So Heeseung positioned himself into a comfortable position where his face was hidden in the crook of your neck, smelling the perfect mix of your perfume and natural scent while taking advantage to kiss you there. One arm held your waist and steaded your body while his other hand busied itself to please you.

Although it had started with one digit to stretch you out before adding the second one, you had to bite your lower lip in order to suppress the noises threatening to escape, since Heeseung easily found your sensitive spot from the very beginning and made sure to hit it with precision within each pound. And because of that, the strange intrusion quickly turned into a delightful wave of arousal flushing through your interior, your muffled whines growing louder.

Hearing your suppressed moans, however, was shattering Heeseung’s self-control, making it exponentially harder to contain the urge to get some relief himself. So almost unconsciously, yet deliberately, his hips started to move back and forth, brushing the painful boner on the edge of the counter.

“Fuck,” you mewled, hands flying to hold on Heeseung’s shoulders, intending to somehow anchor your spinning head and lost thoughts, but everything felt overwhelmingly good and you became pathetically desperate to have your orgasm. “Love your fingers, baby.”

The praise was more than honest, because Heeseung did, in fact, an amazing job inside you; flickering his fingers with mastery to curl at the very moment you needed them to, now speeding up the pace of his movements, wrists nearly burning from the exercise – and fortunately, he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Not without your juices coating his digits.

You almost failed to catch the act of his hips rocking into anything that could give him some friction and consequently some kind of satisfaction. You even briefly wondered if your ears were deceiving you when soft moans grazed the skin of your neck, but Heeseung quickly confirmed your doubts not long after.

“I'm so hard,” he whined breathy in your neck, the pace on his fingers never faltering although his entire body shuddered within each soft thrust into the counter. 

From your lips, a cascade of curses blended with soft moans dripped, bouncing on the stillness of the walls surrounding you two, now more than never caring a little to nothing about getting caught; you, yourself, already extremely lost into pleasure the two digits fucking your pulsing cunt were providing. 

The position allowed his palm to glide across your bundle of nerves, ever so slightly giving the contact to drive you insane, you could feel your climax approaching. Your hands clutched the fabric of his blazer and you moaned. 

“So fucking good–”

“Will you cum for me, yeah?” Heeseung urged desperately, consciously wishing to finish you fast enough so you could help him out before heading back; even when he was somehow in control, he sounded completely surrendered to you, as if you owned each unique piece of his soul.

“Yes, yes, yes! I fucking will, oh my God,” your eyes rolled back and your whole body trembled, your muscles tensing the moment the coil in your core snapped.

Heeseung didn’t stop a second, fucking you through your high as your liquid drenched your long gone panties, stirring wet lewd sounds from the in and out. Your body jolted, nearly convulsing as Heeseung’s name fell past your lips amidst sobs; you noticed the mildly drying tears at the corner of your eyes as the world around you crumbled briefly into a blur.

“So pretty,” Heeseung murmured with his raspy tone against your cheek, kindly kissing the area as his fingers gradually slowed, eventually coming to a halt.

At the back of his mind, though, there was a faint reminder about the lecture waiting for both of you, so the time was running short – and he had a big problem to solve before going back.

You felt languid, too relaxed. Maybe you had overdone it with the dose of Heeseung that had seeped into your system, leaving your body in a state of calm you hadn't expected, but you didn’t regret it for a second. 

Now you would have to hope you had an extra pair of underwear tucked somewhere in your bag and pray for a little jolt to snap you back into reality, to remind you that your soul hadn’t been completely drained by Heeseung’s skilled fingers.

Speaking of which, Heeseung was dotting your neck and face with gentle kisses, patiently waiting for you to regain some semblance of consciousness, to come back down from wherever you had just floated off to. The sound of a notification on your phone, however, was enough to drag you back immediately.

You startled, almost leaping off the counter in a frantic search for your phone, your hands fumbling until they finally brushed against it behind you. Your heart raced so loudly you swore it might burst from your chest.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you read the message from the principal calling you backstage.

Meanwhile, Heeseung continued his affectionate attack on your neck, like a needy little kitten, completely unaware of the devious plan that had just been planted in your head; he was hard, and now, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. A wicked, almost mischievous smile tugged at your lips as you typed a quick reply.

“Hee,” you said, pushing him gently away from you by his chest. But he wasn’t ready to let go. “Hee, listen to me. I have to go.”

“Huh?” He leaned back only to look at you, his large eyes brimming with desperation, though now confusion started to creep in.

“Yeah,” you showed him the message, watching how his gaze flicked rapidly over the words. You couldn’t help but notice – and enjoy – the way his expression shifted: first, confusion, then realization that you weren’t about to stay and finish what he so desperately wanted, and, to close it all, a flawless culmination of his state, expressing a combination of both desperation and frustration in equal measure.

His lips were swollen and slightly parted, he was just as breathless as you and it was an amusing vision, because you didn't even do anything to leave him like that. Your noises and reactions, and the feeling of your clenching pussy around his thick fingers were more than enough, apparently; being aware of that fact made a warm, comforting sensation rise in your chest, almost as if your self-confidence depended solely on it at that moment. It inflated your ego in the bestest way.

Before jumping out of the counter, you settled his messy, disheveled strands caused by your early fidgety hands.

“But what about... Me?” He finally asked with puckered lips, pleading eyes and a soft, nearly helpless expression. You almost folded. Almost.

With a final touch by adjusting his blazer, smoothing out any wrinkles that would give away your small adventure, you smiled. 

“Behave.”

Heeseung watched in pure astonishment as you removed your panties completely, folding it into a small ball and throwing it into the trash. Then, you cleaned yourself quickly, washing your hands, acting as if nothing had happened. 

His body refused to move due to his dumbfounded state. You weren’t that devil, were you?

Turning on your heels with the biggest smile ever, you searched for his lips to give it a small peck, “Behave and I'll reward you later,” and just like that, you patted his head and winked.

“But–”

“Be a good boy, Heeseung,” you instantly cut any possibility of disagreement, holding his face in place to keep eye contact. “Can you do that for me?”

Unseen by you, his dick twitched inside his slacks. He gulped down the urge to lock you into that bathroom and fuck your mouth, because the idea of having his body used by you later was far better. 

“Yes.”

Though you had grinned at his whispered answer, your squinted your eyes gave away you were waiting for something more. Heeseung felt blood rushing towards his face, his cheeks with a faint blush, burning, as his gaze flickered away when he replied properly.

“Yes, I can be your good boy.”

You had never been the type to break promises. Not even the smallest, most trivial ones, and especially not the ones left unspoken. If you promised something – whether directly or not – you would follow through, no matter what.

And what cost was there in giving pleasure to your current… boyfriend?

It all happened so quickly. You and Heeseung delivered the presentation and it went flawlessly; the thunderous applause that filled the room was a clear answer to any lingering doubts in the air.

He did well, despite the painful erection he had been fighting with moments leading up to the presentation – thankfully, thinking of repulsive things had helped him relax and soften his shaft, otherwise, the embarrassment of standing there, hard in front of a room full of students, would’ve been irreparable.

Especially after you made sure to point out, indirectly, that you hadn’t found any spare underwear in your bag or car, suggesting, well, that Heeseung’s prize was tantalizingly close.

Every second you spent together during that presentation, Heeseung had to fight the fire of desire building low in his stomach, praying his loose pants wouldn’t betray him with the growing evidence of his arousal.

Then, you both left, your only task for the day completed, which led to Heeseung arriving at your bed much earlier than expected. The need to have you was much stronger than the plan to go out and celebrate the success of the presentation. He didn’t want to celebrate with food or drinks; he wanted to devour you.

And so, kissing you feverishly from the elevator to your room, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Will you be my girlfriend? Please?”

It was a rushed, spontaneous request, made amidst a kiss just as frantic and intense. It made you stop for a brief moment, shocked, your breath ragged and your eyes wide with more emotion than words could capture.

Apparently, all it took to win him over was edging him. And, well, of fucking course you said yes.

So now you had your lips wrapped around Heeseung’s dick as if they were made to be there, tailor-made to envelop him with mastery and desire, the same desire that compelled you to bob your head up and down slowly, lingering deliberately and with intent on the head.

The tip of your tongue played with its slit, the sensitivity of the area stirring a guttural moan from Heeseung who couldn’t hold longer in the silence; he barely noticed he was holding his breath so far, releasing it among a shaked trail of pleas for you not to stop.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, rolling his eyes when your throat met his tip, at the same time your nose made contact with his pelvis. He winced and stuttered a curse, hands clutching the already messy sheets beneath. “F–Fuck…”

The most thrilling part was that Heeseung had no idea that this wasn’t even the prize he had earned for his good behavior. Of course, what could possibly be a better reward for hours of unintentional edging? Well…

Hidden beneath your dedication to giving a truly memorable head was the curve of a wicked smile, one that concealed every sinful, far-from-innocent thought that had spun through your mind all day. 

If two hours of self-restraint had been torture for Heeseung, then for you, the real challenge had been thinking of anything other than the countless ways you could unravel him, the infinite methods you could use to push him past the edge of sanity. Fuck… Just the thought of it had your heart racing and your stomach twisting in excitement, not to mention the throb in your bare cunt – you got rid of both your clothes the moment you crossed the room’s door. 

In a way, you were grateful that Heeseung was struggling to keep his eyes open, avoiding your gaze altogether, because if he dared to look he would see right through you. He would catch the teasing glint in your eyes, the sheer amusement at how effortlessly you had him at your mercy and the uncountable devious ideas crossing your head. 

But then, there was a moment, a fleeting second when he was reckless enough to glance down at you. Little did he know you had been watching him the entire time, your focus never once wavering since your lips wrapped around his leaking length. You were drinking in every micro-expression, every twitch of his muscles, every tremor in his breath, the way his brows knitted together as pleasure consumed him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that…” He groaned, voice strained.

The position had changed a few seconds ago, now with a hand gripping tightly the base of his shaft and massaging the part your mouth couldn’t take, as you focused solely on his sensitive head. The other hand rested dangerously close to his balls.

With a wet pop, you let him slip from your mouth just long enough to speak, your fingers never pausing as they jerked him off. “Or else…?” You trailed off, the mischief in your voice unmistakable.

His eyes flickered with hesitation, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had no “or else” to offer. He wouldn’t do anything. He would take whatever you gave him without question, without resistance.

There were no agreed-upon punishments, no threats looming over him. But after what you had done to him in the bathroom earlier, he already knew just how far you were willing to push him, how cruelly you could toy with him if you wanted to – and, damn, he would be down to anything if it involved you.

He swallowed thickly, voice faltering as your fingers cupped around his tip, your wrist twisting in slow, deliberate circular motions.

“O–or else nothing, b–baby,” he stammered, his body trembling under your touch. His breath started to rag with a certain constancy, pitch climbing higher as his resolve shattered completely. “N–Nothing at all. I’m all yours, right? Do whatever you wan–” He had to stop himself, since you thought it would be the right time to toy with his balls. The rough moan echoed through your interior like a visceral energy straight to your pussy, stirring it to clench, your arousal growing. “Fuck!”

It was such a beautiful view; Heeseung threw his head back and clutched his eyes close, back arching involuntarily within a sudden jolt, and his legs, once softly idling on the bed, now squirmed as you didn’t stop, never once, none of your movements, silently pressing the orgasm you knew it was close. 

Your piercing gaze zeroed on his trembling form, the way his lips fell open and how his Adam’s apple bobbed with the failed attempts to gulp his saliva; you could see it trailing down from the corner of his lips, his tongue struggling to gather it back on his mouth.

“So beautiful, Hee,” you whispered loud enough to make yourself heard, basking in the sight of Heeseung slowly falling apart.

And that was the last thing you said before taking his dick in your mouth again, deepthroating instantly and provocatively making swallowing motions, which pressed the very tip and elicited another guttural-high pitched whimper, sounds you had never heard coming from him before.

Heeseung was seeing stars, for sure. His eyes could barely stay open, yet they still rolled back as everything you were doing drove him absolutely wild. It wasn't just sensitivity or neediness; you were touching him in such a specific way that left no room for anything else, no space for coherent thoughts or self-control.

He could feel his body slowly unraveling, but not in a painful way. It was strange, like all his energy was being funneled entirely into the place where your mouth was consuming him. The rhythm of your tongue around him was hypnotic, but every time he tried to focus on how incredible it felt to have you taking him in, your hand playing with his balls distracted him completely. He had no idea what to do, how to react, or what the hell was going on in his mind anymore.

Only a few seconds into it and his entire body shuddered, his warning filling the room nearly at the same time as the warm stream cascaded down your throat, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘M cumming…”

You swallowed Heeseung’s release as if you were parched, drinking it down like water, which accidentally overstimulated his spent cock through his high. Not a single drop escaped your hungry lips, cleaning him almost completely before you detached your mouth from it.

Heeseung trembled beneath your touch, the aftershocks rippling through his body in such a ridiculously captivating way that you could have admired it for hours without tiring. His lightly bronzed chest was now flushed in a lovely shade of red, coated in sweat from the heat of desire that had enveloped the room. In that moment, your gaze shifted to your next... target. The owner of it being entirely unaware of the mischief brewing in your mind.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you took a moment to steady your breath before continuing with your plan. You shifted up just enough to reach Heeseung’s swollen lips, his face still contorted in a look that could only be described as pleasure, but relaxed, as if he were sinking into the sensation.

His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, his body still quivering as your fingertips traced the outlines of his collarbones, studying him with the kind of admiration you reserved for someone who didn’t know what he had just experienced.

“Hey,” you called softly, caressing his cheek tenderly as though you wanted to make sure he was okay. 

Heeseung fluttered his eyes open, the tiredness of them exposing how affected he was. You wavered about continuing with your ideas, but with the smirk he showed you and the way his gaze flickered lazily to your lips as if asking for you to continue it was the green light you needed.

So you captured his lips with yours, starting a kiss that was both passionate and affectionate. It was, somehow, an aftercare; one you would give even not having the need to. And Heeseung was more than receptive to kiss you.

It was oddly addictive, the mingled taste of you and himself, the bittersweetness melting across his tongue, igniting each particle of his body to move along with you. One hand slid instinctively to the back of your head, his fingers carefully threading through your hair as he held you in place, gently yet firmly pulling you closer.

Heeseung quivered when your fingertips started to move innocently down, not paying enough attention to it, until they touched his, now, softening shaft. 

He tried to break the kiss to complain, to alert that he was still sensitive from the previous orgasm and you would have to wait a few more seconds, maybe minutes, so he could get hard again; he definitely wouldn’t mind another round. But you only moved further, pressing yourself into his lips, shutting any possibility of him letting you know he was slightly in pain.

“Y/N–”

“Shh,” a shush was enough to leave him speechless, especially because your hand kept its exploration, now settling into a languish pace of moving up and down along his length.

“S–Stop…” Heeseung, once again, tried to part the kiss to plead. This time, you leaned back only enough to search for his eyes. They were wide in alarm. 

“Do you want me to stop, baby?” 

Your voice had taken on a specific rasp, clearly affected by the pressure you had previously exerted on your throat. But that was worse for Heeseung’s state, because you still shaped it to sound sultry, almost seductive. It was pathetic how he responded to your every stimulus, in all its varying intensities and nuances.

“It’s burning,” he whispered softly, not wanting to disappoint you in any way. You had already tried overstimulation before, so this was a sensation and dialogue he was familiar with.

You cooed, “Yeah? Is it?” Your tone, feigned concern, was completely overshadowed by the mocking edge beneath it. It was almost comical, but Heeseung loved it.

And then, a soft moan escaped him. He was getting hard again, which only spurred your hand to move faster, causing him to hiss.

“Uhm…”

The last time you had tried this, he had done exactly what he had just done: his hand had moved to grasp your wrist, but he didn’t exert any force to pull it away. It seemed more like a desperate attempt to hold on to something, almost as if he were clinging to his sanity.

The naughty grin that curled your lips only revealed how much you were enjoying watching him like this, eyes blinking rapidly, unsure whether to stay focused on the slight sting of discomfort, or to surrender to the imminent pleasure.

“But that wasn’t my question, was it?”

“N-No,” he shook his head, his voice shaky. “It wasn’t.”

You gave him a moment to respond, almost considering asking again just for the sake of it, but it seemed much more satisfying to use his lack of a correct answer as a small “punishment”, so your lips trailed down, leaving a path of warmth and chills through your way until they encircled Heeseung’s nipple, but not giving the entire touch; it was just a test of waters, just to drag out any reaction aiming to guide your following decisions, as you peppered soft kisses near the area and read his body response.

Heeseung’s breath hitched with the proximity of your mouth to his sensitive buds, his eyes fluttering shut and a small frown pressing his forehead to contort. Yet, his silence was heavy.

You raised your gaze ever so slightly to catch a glimpse, a smile tugging at your lips as you realized he might be into it, though he seemed to be trying to hide his blatant reactions; your hand on his cock now slowing to an almost full stop.

With that, you decided to wrap your lips around his nipple again, this time shortening the distance to flicker your tongue a few times right on the hardened tip, and the answer was immediate and modestly unexpected. 

“Oh, shit!” Heeseung nearly screamed, body jolting abruptly as a sharp spasm overtook his nerves. The coil in his stomach tightened, twisting further with each passing second you continued to play with your tongue.

Now absolutely certain of the pleasure you were causing, every whimper that fell from his lips was a delicious incentive for you to keep going, alternating between wet, noisy sucks and flattening your tongue to rub it along the bruised bud, your saliva coating his chest.

“Ngh, damn, fuck–” Heeseung exhaled shakily, unable to comprehend anything other than the crescent blissful thrill in his body, the temperature rising considerably due to your effort to make him go insane.

He was sure you wanted to make him go insane.

Blindly, you went back to grab his already very hard dick to give it some attention again, and the combo of everything you were doing to his body was more than enough for him to come undone in your hands.

“Babe, oh my god– Please–” He urged. “Don’t stop…” His voice was almost a broken whisper, but the pleading tone was clear, like a fragile thread that he hoped would keep him tethered to reality.

You giggled, continuing your work on his sensitive nipples, nibbling softly and then brushing your tongue to soothe any pain. 

“Please…” Heeseung’s voice cracked slightly, the desperation seeping through within pathetic moans, as his fingers gripped your wrist tightly.

“Aw,” you cooed, lips curling into a devilish smirk. You kissed his nipple a few times before letting go of it. “You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

The word fell from his lips again similar to a mantra, his entire body trembling under your touch, yearning for more but unsure if he could handle it. A small giggle escaped you. “Is that all you can say, my love? Please?”

You repositioned your body to sit on your knees by his side, one hand focused solely on jerking him off, while the other rested on his chest, until you decided to flicker your finger on one of his nipples. 

“Aw, so sensitive, aren’t you?” You murmured with amusement, your voice soft yet dripping with teasing.

He was already leaking heavily, and when he started to whimper, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist that had been touching his chest, pushing it further into him, as if urging you to continue, you could feel how dangerously close he was to the edge again.

“Oh my God, oh my God…” His words came out as breathy nonsense, barely coherent, his hips instinctively grinding against you, seeking more friction. He was lost in the sensation, overwhelmed by it all.

Heeseung's chest rose and fell with a desperate pace as he fought to catch his breath, each exhale shaking. His skin was flushed, a deep, beautiful shade of red coated in a thin sheen of sweat that caught the dim light of the room, making him glow with every movement.

Amidst pleas, blended with delectable whines of your name, there was a heavy desperation underlying beneath the whole surface he was showing you. 

He sounded dumb. 

He teetered the edge of madness, your touches weighting tons along his spent length; the nearly purple tip was nothing but pure perfection for your eyes, painfully hard still, because behind his despair there was the actual need to be there, to please you with by offering his own pleasure, to be your good boy.

And you wanted to make sure he understood it.

“You’re such a good boy, Hee.”

And as if your words snapped the bliss away from him, only to drift strongly back with a much intense force, the fierce orgasm built for the last minutes burst out through thick ropes upwards, landing perfectly on the very end of his tummy, on the sheets and on your hand. Thinking ahead, you used some of his release to lubricate what would soon become your seat.

Heeseung was fucking breathless, not sure if he was still alive but definitely pleasured. However, before he could regain full consciousness of his body, you were already straddling over, aligning your needy pussy, aching for some relief, already dripping in arousal, to be fulfilled by his dick, though it needed some rest before anything else. 

His eyes flew open as he held your hips in place, preventing you from sinking into the very sensitive extension of his cock. He would probably lift his torso as well, but he was too tired to even try, so his persuasion game was reduced to merely the plea in his gaze and the obvious tiredness of his breathing.  

“I already came so much,” Heeseung murmured, his bambi-eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t think I can…” His eyes darted briefly to your pussy, and the view of it painfully asking to be filled to the brim had him tweaking.

Once again: it was pathetic how devoted for you – and your body – Heeseung was. 

“Oh?” You pouted, cocking your head to the side with feigned sadness. “But I didn’t come, though?”

“Can you wait just a little?” 

You carefully observed the genuine tone laced in his voice as he made his request. There was a desire to continue behind his words, but he had asked only for a brief moment of pause. You could wait for as long as it took if it meant fulfilling his wish and not pushing further his boundaries. 

So you nodded, rising from your position to grab a water bottle from the nightstand. It was difficult to ignore just how wet the inside of your thighs had become or how the slightest friction on your clit only heightened your arousal.

“Here, baby,” you handed him the water bottle, watching the charming Adam's apple move with each swallow. It was definitely one of your favorite features of his. As you sat on the edge of the bed, you gently caressed his sweaty face, brushing away the strands of hair that clung to his forehead. “You did so well today.”

Heeseung wasn’t naive, he could sense the undertone of “farewell” in your voice, almost as if you were ready to end the moment without a second thought. Yet, for him, that would have been a huge problem.

You hadn't reached your climax.

Finishing the water, he silently thanked you, and before you could stand up he stopped you, cupping your hand on his face with his own.

“But I’m– I’m your good boy, right?” His wide, shining eyes blinked up at you, the innocence in them belying the desire to be praised, laid bare behind those expressive orbs.

His words left you momentarily disoriented. Honestly, you had been willing to take care of your own needs alone, and there would have been no issue with that. But Heeseung was clearly eager for more, and the sight of him rubbing his cheek against your warm palm was more than enough to reignite the spark in you.

“You are,” you nodded again, lowering yourself just enough to kiss his soft, flushed lips. “My good boy,” you whispered against them, your words carrying a promise – a silent vow of how grateful you were to have him with you. Then, you pulled back, returning to your previous position.

Heeseung watched you with both curious and excited eyes, watching how you climbed on top of him, reoccupying the earlier position just to sit directly on his sensitive length. His abs clenched with the immediate and unwarned touch, his back curving forward while his hands flew to grab your waist.

You smirked, though it showed more than just raw desire; it had, lying underneath, the very affection that warmed your chest by knowing Heeseung would be down to anything with you. He let out another groan when you started to move back and forth ever so slightly to coat your own arousal around his cock and lubricate once more.

Also, it helped to make him hard again, and it was obvious how easily sensitive he was once you felt the stiffness growing beneath you.

“There you go,” you murmured cheekily, adjusting your height only to align Heeseung’s dick in your pulsing hole, not waiting a second as you felt it filling you. It was your time to choke a moan.

Your body relaxed almost completely to welcome him inside, leaning slightly forward as the overwhelming sensation of finally being filled with friction surged through you. You were just as eager as he was, and soon enough, your movements started without hesitation.

His touch lingered in the exact spot he once held you, and you had positioned yourself on the right angle so you could feel your clit rubbing against his pelvis, only deepening, urging, your pleasure.

With Heeseung’s length dragging across your tight, sensitive walls, it was undeniable your growing desire to finally cum, and with that you searched for the right pace to please both of you. Your eyes were closed as you focused on moving your hips in a steady motion.

On the back of your thoughts, however, there were the beautiful whimpers Heeseung was letting out, as he felt the third orgasm of the day building up too quickly. 

And you noticed, of course; you could feel him leaking in you. And… You couldn’t hide or prevent your teasing side to show up, so you asked, your mouth whispering moans and his name, but also having a grin that made you too lustful to look at.

“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?” 

You slowed your pace deliberately, watching Heeseung’s body react. A sharp gasp left his lips, his chest heaving, but no answer followed.

“Heeseung,” you called his name again, voice soft yet commanding, hoping to anchor his mind back to you, to keep him tethered amidst the pleasure clouding his thoughts. You purposely clenched. “Can you give me one more?”

A strangled noise caught in his throat, and his hips jerked up instinctively, chasing the friction he was so desperately losing. “Nnngh, fuck!” He was a writhing mess beneath you, legs trembling, unable to stay still as he practically fucked himself into you, searching for the sensation that had him spiraling. A quiet sob echoed from his lips.

“Babe, I won’t move until you answer,” you murmured, slowing your hips until they stilled completely. “I need your words.”

“Ah–no! Please, please, don’t…” His voice broke into a whimper, his entire body shuddering with the withdrawal of pleasure.

A burning sensation coiled deep inside him, pleasure and frustration mixing into something unbearable. His hands clutched desperately at your flesh, definitely marking the extension; his lips parted as he let out a shaking breath, his body twitching for any form of relief.

“Please…” The plea left him again, raw and unfiltered, but even he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for. For you to move again? For you to let him fall apart? For you to ruin him?

Your gaze flickered up, catching sight of his tear-streaked cheeks. His big, round eyes fluttered between half-lidded and tightly shut, brows furrowed in pure, pathetic desperation. His lips, swollen and parted, trembled slightly, whether from the overwhelming sensation or from how hard he had been biting them, you weren’t sure.

Then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Heeseung finally looked at you. You smiled at him, something soft, something appreciative, as if silently letting him know just how much you adored seeing him like this, completely unraveling in your hands.

But you wanted something. Something simple. Something so easy. Just his words.

“Hee…” Your tone turned warning, coaxing. “Words. Need your words, yeah?”

It was like a switch flipped inside him, acknowledging you would easily stop and leave him without his release, frustrated and helpless. His breath hitched, and then his entire body jolted like a shockwave had run through him, with his eyes flying open and his back arching as a frantic urgency flooded his tone.

“Yes! Yes, fuck–yes! I can give you–” His words cut off in a choked moan as you tightened your clenching, circling your hips in slow, deliberate motion. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling as his brain melted into pleasure.

But then you stopped. His whine was downright pathetic.

“Another,” he rushed out, panting, the desperation laced thick in his voice. “I can. I can give you another.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you leaned forward, already going back to roll your hips.

“Good boy, Hee.”

Due to the proximity of your mouths, you even tried to initiate a kiss, but it quickly turned messy, chaotic even, though your lips didn’t fully part. You both moaned into each other, breaths, sounds, and whispered desires blending into the creaking of the bed that shifted slightly under your relentless movements.

There was a deafening determination in the way you grinded against him, fast enough to give you pleasure and leave Heeseung completely broken.

And then, silence. At least, on his part. You tried to open your eyes to meet his, and through the blur, you caught a glimpse of his lips slightly parted, breathless, his eyes shut in the intensity of the moment.

Fully committed, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line, feeling the familiar tightness in your core signaling your impending climax. You also managed to get his dick brushing against your most sensitive spot, propelling you faster towards the edge.

Suddenly, Heeseung gasped for air and moaned loudly, filling you with his release, the pressure inside you intensifying. It was different from all the other reactions, and it would definitely stay with you. 

He was gorgeous, his neck completely exposed and glistening with sweat, his body trembling as he gasped and moaned beneath you. And, finally, with one last powerful movement, you reached your own peak, your body shaking in the aftermath, clinging to him as your world spun with the intensity of it all.

Heeseung, still a little lost in the moment, hugged you back. There were no words needed to express that this had been a significant moment for both of you, a journey through uncharted paths, where you respected each other’s desires and understood your own limits, while still daring to push beyond them a little.

It felt different and fulfilling to be with someone like that, your thoughts syncing in unspoken understanding. And that simple embrace, though messy and sweaty from your shared experience, was more than enough to mark the beginning of something new.

A new chapter.

[sillygoosealert]

Weird thought, but imagine being Sukuna's favorite person/concubine once but someday he brings someone home or replace you, so then you die(obviously, your human) so then sukuna kinda felt heartbroken.

Now let's travel back to current timeline where sukuna is in yuji's body, Gojo decided to let his students meet his fiancee only for sukuna to be shocked cause it's reader reincarnated.

Once more to see you

Not a weird thought at all, silly ❤️

Sukuna x AFAB reader (for like a paragraph or two) Satoru Gojo x reader

pregnant! Reader, stress, suicidal thoughts, thoughts of self-mutilation, body issues, big BIG warning for pregnancy and dying and so many other things just be cautious, please. Angst NO COMFORT ‼️, uhh unless you take the whole lobotomy route as comfort then yeah happy ending or wtv

Loud moans and barbaric grunts echo through the castle- originating from Sukuna’s chamber

All you can do is sit outside the door and listen as you wait to see him

The newest concubine is with him as of now

She looked similar to you- but much thinner, almost how you looked before

Her face emits a sense of pure life and hope, a rare find

Your bulging stomach is more than noticeable, as you are now 4 months pregnant

Thinking of having a baby with him is a terrifying thought- for so many reasons

Whether he will continue to keep you after you give birth

If you will live after you give birth

The baby is massive so far, much bigger than any human child

You aren't even sure if your body can continue to manage nurturing the baby much further past this point

Sitting outside the door quickly became too much and standing was out of the question

It was best to just find a better time later to talk, he doesn't prioritize you over..anything if you think about it

In fact, Sukuna wouldn’t gaze in your direction even if you were to bleed out and slowly die, so, you go to your separate bathroom to start a bath

The thought of laying face first in the water and drowning yourself crosses your mind, but it goes away as you really think about it

If it didn't work, the punishment of living would be much too severe for it to be worth anything

The thought of living also crosses your mind, would it really be worth it?

To carry his child, and then to watch as he becomes his father?

If you didn't lose the weight would he be disgusted with you?

Just as you are about to leave for your room, he comes out, interrupting your thoughts

The woman is beside him, and he guides her with a hand on the small of her back

It's not rough nor gentle, the hand that pushes you out of the way as they walk down the hall

But the mental feel of it is excruciating

Your vision is blurred as you drag your feet to your bathroom

Your body is weak and malnourished

Then you trip over the decorative rug in the middle of the too-clean room

But you make no move to get up

The floor envelopes you as something hot and wet fills your underwear

This was bound to happen

You knew it, but you also knew you could only sit and wait as there was no way you could give birth to his child

It hurts, so bad

But that reminds you how real you are, that you feel things just like others

Maybe you didn't deserve to be ignored by the man who impregnated you

Perhaps you didn't deserve this life

All the bad things that happened aren't because you're a bad person, it has nothing to do with you

This was never meant to be your life, something more pure was

And as your consciousness slips away, a better feeling welcomes you

A better life waits ahead

And this one finally ends

Humans were like pets to Ryomen Sukuna. His servants took up such a little present of his life- but he took up almost all of theirs.

But you? You took up his everything. Late in the night after you were found lifeless in your separate bedroom- something he regrets making you have, he felt a change that night. Disappointment was a distinct feel, but there was something else. Hurt.

Possibly because this was something he now had no control over. Or maybe he was attached used to you.

None of that mattered in the end. You were no more. And as of now, so was he.

Originally split into 20 fingers- he now is trapped in the body of a high schooler.

He knows what he’s waiting for. More specifically, who- Satoru Gojo.

His body shakes with excitement as he thinks of all the ways he could kill him, threaten him, scare him into submission.

But that doesn't happen; not today at least.

Instead, he sees a much too-familiar face..but he doesn't immediately recognize who you are.

But as you come into view, arms interlocked with Satoru’s, greeting his students, he becomes filled with the need to switch.

When he heard you call out to the students, a realization washed over him.

That was his girl his concubine wrapped around Satoru Gojo

He knows it's you, it has to be. But he also knows his options are limited

He could call out your name- if it hadn't changed, or he could watch as you genuinely smile next to another man

If you had remembered him you wouldn't be with someone else, he knows that for a fact- right?

But you don't, he doesn't think you do at least

There's nothing he can do to remind you of all the nights you spent together

There's nothing he can do about it.

There's nothing he can do.

There's nothing.

.

This was going to take such a different route LOL. You were going to be eaten by either him or curses. The thought of going into more detail on the whole malnutrition path because of the baby also crossed my mind. It was going to be a DDDNE path. But no one would want that so I didn't <|3 Js did something short and sweet because I spent too much time making it ;( sorry about that, I love you all soooooooo much ✋ 🤚 (that much) ❤️

[celestiamour]

Hello can you please do hcs for su-bong x sweet fem reader? By sweet I mean nice to everyone and loved/liked by almost everyone so people are shocked he pulled 😭 (sorry if it’s a bit specific!) Thank you!

ft. choi su-bong x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ sweetheart! reader┊0.5k words

contains: established relationship, mentioned drug use

➤ author's note: another short one served but they are so cute omg

╰₊✧ most people in the games don’t like thanos, even his fans who survived the first games are learning why “never meet your heroes” is such a popular saying. he’s obnoxious, arrogant, temperamental, unpredictable in dangerous ways (especially when high) with how he dances with death, and rarely ever considers the well-being of others unless they are part of his team. they prefer to steer clear of them as nothing good could ever come from associating with a hooligan like him, and they tell you to do the same because he would only be a bad influence.

╰₊✧ when they find out a sweetheart like you is actually his girlfriend, their jaws go slack and their eyes go round in shock. not a fling to pass the time, not a situationship, his real girlfriend whom he’s very committed to. you, the darling girl everyone loves who gives massages to the elderly and always gives her milk away to anyone who needs it, dating some fuckass rapper who is a menace to society. 

╰₊✧ while your boyfriend frequently flexes you as his partner, truth be told, he’s not sure how he pulled you either but is too scared to ask just in case you realize you can do better than him. 

╰₊✧ he’s so smitten with you, by the way, it’s almost pathetic. his personality turns a complete 180 degrees and gives kang dae-ho a run for his money in the contest of golden retriever personality, a complete and utter simp (do people even still use that word anymore) for you— you say “jump,” he asks “how high.” he would probably quit using drugs if you asked him to and supported him through withdrawals, which is probably why he’s a bit more sneaky about it and you haven’t noticed yet.

╰₊✧ never says sorry first after arguments because of how stubborn he is, but he feels so guilty when you sputter a string of apologies through tears seconds after that he might start crying too because you’re just too sweet for him. 

╰₊✧ deviates from his usual style of songwriting to write more romantic stuff dedicated to you with lots of motifs about heavenly angels and saccharine sugar. he finds the final product a little embarrassing because of just how different it is to his raps, but you always love it and listen to it at least a hundred times before adding it to your favorites. also, he has so many playlists with you in mind, he probably has a separate account for them. he puts a little too much thought into curating the perfect background music for dates, for dancing around the house, or just to listen to with headphones when he’s thinking about you in any instance.

╰₊✧ matching icons on your social media with half a heart frame so when you put them together it’s a heart around the two of you because he’ll be damned if the entire world doesn’t know that you’re his and he’s yours.

[sleepingdeath-light]

love language hcs ; the beasts

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; burning spice cookie, mystic flour cookie, shadow milk cookie

outline ; “love language hcs for the beasts”

warning(s) ; potentially shaky characterisation here and there, but otherwise just fluff!

burning spice cookie

fighting / sparring

on days with favourable weather and when you have the energy for it, he loves nothing more than dragging you outside to the courtyard, throwing you a weapon and challenging you to a fight — you’ll never beat him, with him being a beast and all, but he loves watching you get all fired up and determined to win (on rare occasions he’ll even relent and let you win just to keep things interesting)

and he’s also been known to just start play fighting you randomly when the two of you are lounging together in his temple — it’s much less serious and exhausting than actual sparring, but he loves being able to catch you by surprise like that (and he certainly won’t complain about having you in such close proximity to himself when you’re trying your best to pin him down)

quality time

while he does usually default to challenging you to a fight whenever he gets bored and craves your company, given enough time burning spice cookie will start to find enjoyment in other activities that he may have otherwise labelled as ‘boring’ or ‘beneath him’

(especially if those activities happen to be things that you’re passionate about, because he can begrudgingly set aside his own disinterest for your sake if it means getting a chance to see the passion in your eyes… even if he’d never be caught dead thinking something so disgustingly sappy)

words of affirmation

being showered with endless praise was something that he grew accustomed to (and dreadfully bored of) back during his days as the herald of change, but somehow it feels different coming from you — hearing you sing his praises and affirm your affection for him and claim him as your own to others never fails to boost his ego and leave him in a much better mood than before

and while a lot of his affirmations are sandwiched between good-natured shit talking, it’s still more than obvious enough through his words that he adores you — he’s forever pushing you to be the best version of yourself that you can be, not letting you settle for mediocrity, and aggressively affirming to you that he adores you and that you more than deserve your place by his side (and that he’ll beat the snot out of anyone who says otherwise)

physical touch

hand-to-hand training, randomly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, pulling you up and onto his chest when you sleep in his bed with him, (somewhat) gently knocking his head against your own — a lot of his physical affection is rough and aggressive in its nature because gentleness isn’t something that comes naturally to him as the beast of destruction, but over time he does get better about not nearly crushing your bones every time he pulls you in for a hug

and when it comes to you showing him physical affection, he’s constantly encouraging you to be a bit rougher with him — bite his arms and hands, throw yourself at him, climb him like a tree, slap his chest when you’re laughing, go as far as you want because you will not hurt him and he quite enjoys watching you let go of all your inhibitions and just… be yourself without worry

mystic flour cookie

quality time

more often than not this involves the two of you just existing alongside each other (e.g. her meditating while you sleep, the two of you eating together, taking a walk through the gardens in peaceful silence, etc.) but she also enjoys listening to you talk about the things you love and answering any questions you have about the life she lived before you — in fact she finds your curiosity far more endearing than she’d ever admit

(she’s also much more short and stern with anyone who dares to interrupt her time with you regardless of why they sought either of you out — especially if you were interrupted by someone seeking her out for a blessing or gift)

honesty

after the two of you have been together for a while, she’ll start feeling comfortable enough to truly open up to you and show you the sides of herself that are too dark, too ugly, too emotional for her followers or for the wider world to see — she shows you her anger, her sorrow, her frustration, and starts to open up about the positive emotions she’s started to feel for and with you (calmness, contentedness, and love), and that’s how you know she truly trusts you as her partner

attention to detail

though she tends to come across as, well, wholly apathetic and detached as a partner, mystic flour cookie is actually a very attentive girlfriend who has a talent for committing all of the little things about you to memory — your body language, your nervous ticks, the things you like, the textures you can’t stand, etc.

loathe she is to admit to having such feelings, but she pays attention to all of these things because the idea of losing you terrifies her and she doesn’t want to risk forgetting the one person who mattered

patience

while her patience towards others is a facade she puts on to keep up an image, with you it’s nothing but genuine — when she says she could sit and listen to you talk for days at a time and never tire of your voice she’s being completely honest, when she assures you that you can take all the time you need to make a choice she truly means that she’s happy to wait for you, when she allows you to make mistakes and learn for yourself without intervening with her own knowledge and experience it’s because she respects you and wants to give you the chance to grow on your own terms, and for a woman hell bent on returning all life to flour she’s very understanding and respectful of your desire to live out your life as your own person

how… sweet?

shadow milk cookie

words of affirmation

it’s rare for shadow milk cookie to be serious with you, so it’s all too easy to brush off his compliments and praise as another way for him to tease you, said more as a way to placate you or to fluster you than anything else, but if you look beyond his impish grin and carefree demeanour then you’ll see just how genuine he’s being when he calls you handsome/beautiful or tells you that he loves you

and for his part, while he grew accustomed to empty compliments and overused praise during his time as a herald of knowledge in the old days, it still gives him pause and causes his cheeks to visibly flush whenever you genuinely compliment him or shower him in your words of affirmation — it’s cute how shocked he looks, honestly

playfulness

this jester loves nothing more than the sound of your laughter and he’s willing to do just about anything to hear it — even if that means becoming orders of magnitude more playful and theatrical around you than he is when he’s messing with people (more elaborate puppet shows, cheesier jokes, full on stand up routines based on the types of humour you find the most amusing, etc.)

and if you match his energy and are willing to act just as silly with him then that’s all the better — truly a match made in heaven

listening

shadow milk cookie generally will not shut up and has no problems talking over people to get his point across (or if he’s just bored of the conversation and wants to switch topics), but with you he’s content to quiet down and just listen to whatever you have to say even if the subject you’re talking about is something he’s unfamiliar with or otherwise wouldn’t care about

and he’s an active listener too! he asks questions where appropriate, watches you intently and follows you around if you’re a more active speaker, and will be able to recall things that you mentioned well after the fact if you ask him about it — he just… loves you a lot and so that means he loves the things that you love too

physical touch

he’s an extremely physically affectionate person and always seems to be touching you in one way or another when you’re together — when he’s not hanging off of you he’s smothering you with kisses, and when he’s not doing that he’s wrapping you up in his arms and either cuddling you until you fall asleep or tickling you until you have tears in your eyes, but no matter what he’s doing he’s always touching you (and it still never seems to be enough for him)

and, touch starved as he is after spending so long imprisoned, shadow milk cookie loves loves loves when you return the favour and smother him in affection in return — bonus points if you run your hands through his hair when kissing or just holding him because he will melt (and maybe fall asleep depending on how long you do it for)

gift giving

while he may not seem like the type, shadow milk cookie does have a distinctly sentimental side of him that came to be after the two of you got into a relationship and you started to gift him things — trinkets, letters, handmade things and items you found that made you think of him, all of which he has kept safe in his realm where he can display them without fear of any bothersome mortals messing with what’s his

(he rereads the love letters whenever you’re away, oftentimes using an illusion of you to do it so he can hear your voice, though he would never willingly admit to doing this)

[aninipanin1]

Miss Manager's Miscellaneous Shenanigans

Being the manager of Blue Lock had its pros and cons, but one thing's for sure: doing your chores is easier when you have the whole facility simping at your feet.

Notes: Manager Reader is female, but I rarely use pronouns, so any gender may work for this. Manager Reader IS age 16-17, so her love interests would only be those near her age. Anyone else who is older than 20 will be platonic.

ISAGI YOICHI

It was yet another day in the Blue Lock Facility. But, compared to other days before, the air was a little hotter than usual. Even if the facility was rather closed off and most of the inside was air-conditioned, the vents still bring in the air from the outside. Unfortunately for most of you, the temperature outside was hot, and everyone who entered the training fields could immediately feel the sweat start to form even if they have not played yet.

As the manager, you immediately responded to this. Cleaning off the tumblers and filling each of them up while also preparing fresh and clean towels to bring to the many training fields scattered around the facility.

"30 down, another 30 to go."

You could not help but sigh, feeling your arms go numb as you held up another empty tumbler on the water fountain provided in one of the kitchen areas. You found yourself looking at anything around the area to distract yourself, but it's like there was anything interesting about kitchen tools, drawers, or table islands.

"Y/n-chan, do you need any help?"

You hear a familiar voice as you turn around to find Isagi, who offers a polite smile, with his Blue Lock bodysuit on, probably just finishing his training.

"Oh no, no, it's fine. I don't wanna intrude. You should probably just get some rest before taking a shower."

You reciprocated his smile, putting the dozens of towels and tumblers on a pushcart for easy travels. But the boy insisted, grabbing a few bottles and towels himself and putting it on another cart.

"It's fine, Y/n-chan! I can use the small workout pushing these things. And besides, how are you gonna push more than 3 carts by yourself?"

You stopped at that, looking at the 5 carts you prepared, one for each stratum as you mentally sighed.

"I was planning to do many back and forth travels, but you know what? One travel with a little help would be much more better, wouldn't it?"

Isagi laughed at that and agreed, carrying more tumblers to another cart. You just smiled at that, a little happy for the help.

Meanwhile, all that Isagi can think about is the fact that he had another advantage to win you. After all, who would not love a gentleman? Besides, seeing the happy smile on your face was enough to make his day a little brighter.

Today was really not Isagi's day. His pinky toe was hurting when he woke up for some reason, which lessened his performance that day, adding to that was the hot day as well. But hey, at least he got to help you and see you smile.

BACHIRA MEGURU

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?"

You turned your head to Bachira, who was pouting, his golden eyes wide and curious with a hint of worry.

"Nothing's wrong, Bachira-kun."

"Don't lie..! Your is turned upside down! My monster told me that you're probably sad."

You blinked at that. You thought you hid the fact that you were a little down that day. You just received a text message from your mother that, unfortunately, your cat (C/n) just passed away due to food poisoning, and you were heartbroken.

But, of course, your job must go on, and you wanted to remain professional. Well, until Bachira seemed to take notice of the fact that you have been preventing yourself from looking sad.

"Don't worry, Y/n-chan! You can talk to me, remember? I don't like it when you're sad."

"Thanks, Bachira. It's just that my mom texted me yesterday, and um, well, she said my cat died. And, I just didn't want my feelings to get in the way of work, so I tried to keep it."

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"No, no its fine. In fact, I'm quite happy that you were willing to listen."

You gave a small yet much more genuine smile, noticing that he looked quite guilty that when he found out the real reason behind your sadness.

He let out a grin before opening his arms and wrapping it around you. You tend to always forget he was quite the muscular guy, probably from all the practice. His childish and bright personality always made you feel comforted, yes, but you also underestimated him. But nonetheless, his hug was warm. Soothingly so, and it made you tear up.

Until you were now full-on sobbing on his shoulder. Perhaps it was because of the loss, but maybe the homesickness and pressure of everything weighed down on you at the same time along with the grief. You did not know.

But what you did know was that Bachira comforted your weary and grieving soul.

He swayed his upper body along with yours, hoping the movement may help calm you a bit. And it did as you slowly picked yourself up, sniffing and wiping your tears away.

"T-thank you, Bachira-kun. I really needed that."

He grinned again before patting your hair.

"No problemo! My mom always said hugs can always heal any sadness away!"

You smiled at that.

"Your mom is correct. It really did."

His smile widened at the now lighter smile on your face, his pointer fingers now pulling the sides of your mouth higher as he cheered.

"Now you're happy for realsies!! You're prettier like this, Y/n-chan, especially when your eyes are also smiling."

CHIGIRI HYOMA

"Are these all the laundries?"

You turned to the occupants of the room, Reo was currently out of the room, probably training, leaving only Nagi who was laying on his bed, sleeping away and Chigiri, who was drying his hair from a shower.

The redhead smiled and nodded his head before turning his head at Nagi, who was passed out. And around his messy bed were his dirty socks, sweaters, and other dirty laundry. The lazy genius did not find the energy to put all of it in one basket, causing it all to be scattered in his side of the room.

"Oi, Nagi! Pick up your damn clothes and put them in one basket. Be thankful Y/n-chan is already doing your laundry for you!"

"Don't want to. 'Ts a hassle."

And he fell asleep again, making a vein pop in Chigiri's forehead. Meanwhile, you just laughed and shook it off.

"It's fine, Chigiri-kun. I'll just pick it up."

Chigiri rolled his eyes at this, not agreeing with how forgiving and patient you were to the white-haired striker. He put the blowdryer down before heading over to your figure that was already picking up the dirty laundry of Nagi's.

"I'll help you. I feel kind of bad."

You blinked before giving a smile that made him smile as well. He felt quite bashful while also impressed. How can someone be so calm and understanding towards everyone? He would never understand that. Maybe it was because he was quite intense, and at times, demanding?

But, he was quite happy and satisfied that someone like you was the manager of this whole Blue Lock thing. You were so approachable and easy to the heart and even eyes that even he, someone quite guarded, found it easy to rely and talk to you.

"Thanks, Chigiri-kun!"

As you two picked it up, you could not help hut laugh whenever Chigiri would flick a sweater in Nagi's face or "accidentally" dropping a dirty sock on the genius' nose, out of spite.

Nagi just shrugged this off, thinking that caring is also a hassle.

"Thanks for picking it up for me, Chigiri."

Nagi muttered in his sleep which just pissed the redhead off.

"I did it for Y/n-chan, not for you, you idiot!"

MIKAGE REO

"I have to what?!"

"I'm so sorry, Y/n-chan, I know you're already so busy but, the JFA insisted for this to be submitted tomorrow."

You blinked at the pile of papers you needed to read and edit and somehow submit to the JFA Union tomorrow, and it was already noon, too. How will you even finish this?

Nevertheless, work is work, so you accepted, asking Anri to put the papers in your desk. For the rest of the day, you just focused on the paperwork, zoning out of reality and time to just hopefully meet the harsh deadline that loomed upon you.

"Y/n-chan! Have you seen - oh, sorry, did I interrupt you on something?"

Looking up from your desk, you found Reo peeking his head from your office door. You gave him a polite smile, tilting your head.

"No, its fine, Mikage-kun. How may I help you?"

"Eh, I already told you, Y/n-chan. You can just call me Reo. Oh, and I just wanted to ask if you know where Chris Prince is? I have a few questions for the training regime we have."

"Oh, right, sorry. And, I heard he and the rest of the masters have a meeting with Anri-san and Ego-san. They would probably be over in a bit."

He nodded at that before he looked at your face that screamed, stressed. Your hair was in a messy hairstyle, with your baby hairs and other strands falling on your face. Your eyes looked weary, with bags under them.

"What are you doing? You don't look too good."

"Ahh, these? These are reports made by Anri-san and Ego-san. I'm the one who's gonna edit all of these for the JFA. It was supposed to be passed next month, so we weren't in a rush, but then they moved it to tomorrow, so here I am."

Reo winced at the thick pile of paperwork. He just stood there for a bit until a smile broke out of his face. He did not need to contemplate. After all, he was always willing to help you.

"Come on, I'll help you with that, Y/n-chan."

"Eh? But, I don't want to intrude-"

"You aren't! I don't like how you're stressing over this. Besides, I do have experience with professional reports because of my father's company, I'll be fine!"

You were ready to say 'no' again, but he was ahead of you, picking up half of the papers and finding a chair to sit on beside you.

"Reo-kun-"

Then you felt a pinch on your cheeks as Reo pinched both of your cheeks lightly, chuckling at the cute expression on your face.

"Shhh, I already told you, it's fine. Just focus on your work, okay?"

"Ehkway.."

You bashfully said as he continued pinching your cheeks. Reo could not help himself. You were too adorable when you acted all mature and responsible.

NAGI SEISHIRO

"Finally. This week was so busy."

You found yourself walking like a zombie towards your room. As you passed by the dining halls, your ears picked up the sounds of hushed gunshots and shouts like someone was playing. Peeking your head at the door, you found a familiar mop of white hair sitting on one of the chairs, head and arms on the table, said arms stretched out and tapping on his phone.

"Nagi-kun? Why are you still here? Lights off is in an hour."

The boy perked up, as he lifted his head when he heard your voice.

"Y/n-chan...It's just a hassle to stand up and walk to bed."

He pouted at the notion of even standing up from his position. You sighed at this, knowing the tendencies of Nagi. He was not called "Lazy Genius" for nothing, after all. Sitting down beside him, you were prepared to pull whatever words you can from your brain to hopefully convince him to head to the rooms or else, Ego would probably scold him.

But, you couldn't help but watch how effortlessly aim and shoot in the games he played. For someone who found moving or even thinking of the notion of moving was a hassle, he moved his fingers across his phone screen quite flawlessly. He was skilled and agile on his hands and you cannot help but be impressed.

"You're really good at this, Nagi-kun."

"Meh, I missed a guy earlier."

You chuckled at that and patted his hair, which made him scratch his head against your hands, resembling a cat. That only urged you to pat his head more. His hair was quite soft even with all the tangles, seeing as he was probably too lazy to brush his hair.

"Your hands are warm and soft. Y/n-chan. I like them."

"Eh, um thank you..?"

You did not know if you were supposed to take that as a compliment, but you just did. Then he turned his head to you, offering his phone.

"D'you wanna play?"

"Huh? Oh no, I'm not really good on games like that."

He tilted his head at that.

"It's fine. You said you like rhythm games, right? You have the instincts and skills to move your fingers accurately already, so you'll learn fast on this. I'll help you."

"Oh, okay, if its okay with you."

You accepted his phone, albeit unsurely. He moved his head to rest on your shoulder to watch and spectate on your gameplay, teaching you what to use and what not to use. Even giving tips on how to better your aim or how to find opponents fast.

It was a calming experience. Nagi was a really good teacher when it came to games, very straight to the point and simple with his words. His voice was quite calming, too, not low but definitely a bit on the huskier and whispery side, as his voice and hums vibrated on your shoulder.

Like with you, Nagi found himself enjoying the moment. No noise except the sounds of the game along with your and his voice adding small quips. Your shoulder was also quite comfortable, your body warm, contrasting the cold air the air conditioning in the dining area provided.

He liked your presence, so serene and gentle, yet sharp enough to excite him. That's was his first impression of you, rather. And that has yet to change.

He was too immersed and comfortable beside you that you two did not notice the time passing. It took Ego coming inside the dining area to scold you and Nagi for both you to notice the time and head to your respective rooms.

But, deep down, Nagi did have to admit, he felt quite annoyed and disappointed that you two had to part so early.

I got too carried away with Nagi's meanwhile Chigiri's felt too short oop- anyways I hope you all loved this one. I might make many parts for this one. I really wanna make Miss Manager a series but idrk...

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[sunandflame]

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers. 

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

 “Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant. 

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. 

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful- 

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go…  I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again. 

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?” 

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair. 

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers. 

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.” 

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them. 

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku!  You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue. 

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple. 

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again. 

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly. 

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap. 

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt. 

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss. 

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. 

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.  

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother. 

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.” 

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap. 

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

[beloveds-embrace]

MORE OF SICK!READER PLSSS

I’ll take anything, even if it’s against filled🙏🙏

(also how old is Sick!Reader? Because I wanna know if this’ll be more like a found family situation or found lovers thing)

I imagined Reader in their mid twenties-late twenties tbh, but i kept it vague enough to where it's really up to each person's interpretation if they want them to be romantic or platonic lol at least i hope i did 🤔 Sick!Reader x 141 for those curious!

Soon enough, with so much time passing, the 141 guys get into a little competition to see who will make you smile or laugh the most. Their strategies include, but are not limited to:

Kyle makes note of the pile of books you keep on your little nightstand and casually mentions that he's really "not that big of a reader' but visits you the next time holding a copy of one of your favorite books. He tells you he'll even read and share his thoughts about it for you like a gentleman, but he butchers the plot and mispronounces every name. But it's clear he only read it to have a conversation topic with you and an excuse to have you laughing.

Johnny tries to befriend the nurses, sneaking you little treats or gifts that are normally off-limits (a small stuffed animal that curses with his voice, an extra snack that you told him you'd like to taste or try). He even smuggles in a small, colorful balloon one day with your name on it, right alongside another balloon that declares coffee is better than tea. He takes a selfie with you and those balloons and may or may not send it to the groupchat.

Ghost is a bit more subtle, awkwardly offering to teach you a card game that the squad usually plays during downtime or when they are stuck on base with nothing better to do. Despite his stoic exterior, you catch him cracking a rare smile when you joke that he might be a sore loser, and if he isn't then you will make him into one. He plays more than one game just so you have a chance to win, and the first time you win you laugh loud and proud, a flush on your cheeks.

Price brings in an old radio the taskforce had lying around and tunes into a station playing classical music or jazz, sitting by your bed and saying how his grandmother used to listen to the same kind of music. He doesn’t speak much, just enjoying the quiet companionship, but his presence is comforting. He brings a lot of interesting items for you, but on one occasion he brought you a simple bobblehead. The silly thing sits on top of your books now.

What is your best gift, though? It's how when it's time to leave, they'll always tell you they'll come back- bring something else or new for the next time. Maybe they could take you out to experience something different. Next time, which means you- you will not be left behind or forgotten even if you understand why. They say it so offhandedly, too, like it never once crossed their minds to not include you.

It means everything to you.

[essycogany]

Sonic HATES Being Wrong

Like…to an extreme degree. Let me elaborate.

This is a very interesting detail I’ve noticed ever since I made my Sonic’s Flaws post. Here, I’d like to talk about Sonic’s most fatal flaw because this conversation gets interesting. The flaw is one every variation of Sonic can be guilty of and one that causes the most damage to his world and even the people he cares about. If you disagree, I understand. Just hear me out and even if I don’t convince you, I hope this turns out to be a fun read regardless. Feel free to give me some context, correct me, or add information if you‘d like.

The Flaw

Sonic is terribly pertinacious and stubborn. Most people would think of Sonic Prime where he doesn’t listen to his friends warning him to not destroy the paradox prism, but when I think of Prime!Sonic I don't think of that. Especially since this version comes off more as an inexperienced teenager trying to figure things out. While in the games, he’s portrayed as rarely being wrong. Not because he’s perfect, but because Sonic never feels the need to change because of past victories. After all, if everything is going his way, why should he change, right? Well, this can be a problem. The scene in S3 ep3 where a few of the pirates were lost at sea, shows how truly stubborn Prime!Sonic (and Sonic in general), can be. He verbally refuses to take accountability for lost resources and unknowingly helps Nine have better predominance over them.

In this scene, No Place was decaying and Sonic finds out that the other pirate crew was stuck there. Everyone else, even the villains, reasonably says it’s too risky and he ignores them. Of course, he is within reason but if things went sour, it would’ve been his fault. Especially since that almost became a reality before the Chaos Council swooped in to help.

Near the end of the episode, Sonic says it’s a win for everyone, but Mr. Doc says, “Was it? Your little friends are safe, but at what cost? The fox can conjure up more minions with the snap of his fingers. Whereas our fleet is damaged, our troops are spent, and we’re almost out of time.” Surprisingly reasonable call out of the consequences of saving the pirates, if they don’t have enough resources, they were even more screwed than before. Then Sonic says, “I’m sorry but losing anyone is not an option.” While it’s warranted and makes sense for his character, it almost comes across as “We had to save them because I said so.” This is an example of Sonic not having a good argument by addressing the results of their battle. He does it a lot more than you’d think. Despite Sonic not listening to people being a bigger staple of Prime, I personally think it’s never expanded upon or executed well. Not to me anyway, but I don’t mind anyone disagreeing.

In any case, Sonic, as a character in every continuity, tends to “follow by his own rules” but this can be perceived negatively as “doing whatever he wants no matter who argues with him.”

Examples

Sonic Boom Rise of Lyric tackles this too. This is probably the least serious example but still can be a problem sometimes. This is S2 Ep 19 when an Eggman robot Clone tries to break Team Sonic apart and almost succeeds too. It doesn’t have much to do with this topic but I do like how in this episode when the drama started happening, Sonic for once in his life tries to talk abohut his feelings with Tails who turned out to be Steve. I know this has nothing to do with this discussion, but I just thought it was a funny thing to point out. The one time Sonic tries to talk about his feelings, he gets the door slammed in his face. It’s so mean-spirited and stupid. I love Sonic Boom!

But yeah, Rise Of Lyric also shows how his stubbornness can end up with the world being at stake. Or in the case of this episode have your friends grow apart.

The Sonic Movies tackles his shortcomings perfectly. I think he's pretty impulsive in all 3 movies. Mixing his perniciousness doesn't create the greatest meal. He's younger, so that would be expected. This scene is the most recent example. Sonic as a character tends to live in the moment and here, Movie!Sonic is playing a huge role in this category. He’s not even trying to hear anyone out. He’s in a constant rage at this point and can’t think clearly. He wants revenge on Shadow so much he loses himself. His brothers are so loyal to still allow him to get the Master Emerald despite knowing he wants it for revenge. Sonic's so hurt, he even forgets what they originally were there for.

I'm sure if Sonic choose to let his feelings consume him, he probably wouldn’t have saved the world. Why? Let’s just say things would’ve went out of control without Shadow. Sonic dogged a big tangent bullet for having mercy on Shadow.

Yeah, Archie/Reboot Archie didn’t mess around either. I'd say it’s sometimes as tense and bit worse due to him having the biggest ego and ongoing trauma. I'm surprised he didn't go insane. Notice how harsh he is in these instances. He’s overly angry here. Luckily, he has a large group of friends to help him take things down a peg and reminds him how they have his back. Even when worst comes to worst (which is an understatement), his friends are able to get him out of that mindset and put him back in reality. Hunbel him to put it bluntly.

In a way, Sonic's flaws in the Archie comics make me think he feels so guilty that he pushes himself beyond his limits as a way to make up for his loudmouth. Like in other versions, he feels the need to take on more than he can physically handle. He strains his body, mind, and entire being to accomplish tasks on his own because he believes he deserves the punishment. Alternatively, he might just be exhausting himself and attempting to take on more than he can manage. It’s not surprising, really.

This panel is insane for letting Eggy make a valid point. You can tell by his ears how Sonic’s getting visibly irritated. By the end of the argument, he gets super mad and can’t even find a good quip to back himself up. Because in a way, he knows Eggman has a point. That’s how I interpret it anyway.

Game or IDW Sonic is usually in denial when it comes to being wrong. He doesn’t address the issues directly but the person who calls him out for it instead. He’s the most experienced Sonic. I know some people use “mature” but I think experience is a better term due to how he doesn’t have arcs or character growth like other characters. More so he’s used to this song and dance, so his hatred towards being wrong comes from a place of thinking he’s got everything under control. Until it bites him in the butt.

You notice in most of these Sonic’s pretty angry and isn’t the biggest fan of being told off. Even in different continuities, the guy cannot argue without not being self-aware most of the time. The funny thing is he isn’t doing it selfishly. At least not in a typical way. To me, Sonic is the least selfish character in the franchise for a good chunk of the series. He sacrifices himself, gives people more chances than they deserve, and even takes the time to stop his main goals if it means helping someone else. But the guy cannot take the time to admit he’s wrong or his morals have consequences. Not because Sonic thinks he’s better than everyone. I don’t think Sonic sees himself in that way, but I do think he’s always in “I’ve done this thing plenty of times. As long as this thing works, I’ll keep doing it,” mode. Or in the case of Movie!Sonic, goes on instinct which is also a common part of his characterization.

Why Sonic Has This Flaw

Sonic never stops running; he charges head-first into any situation, always striving to do what's right. After all, he's the fastest thing alive. Sonic doesn't have the luxury of questioning himself or dwelling on doubts. While it's true that he has caused some issues, including in the games, he doesn't waste time feeling sorry for himself. The only times he's shown insecurity were during the Metal Virus arc, so interpret that as you wish.

This brings up another point. Crazy how much I didn’t notice, but most of the time, Sonic doesn’t like it when people disagree with him. Understandable, everyone doesn’t want to be wrong. But he takes it to the extreme at times. Like sometimes he's baffled when anyone challenges him. Sonic’s also never truly called out by the right people. I don’t mean Shadow, Espio, Knuckles, or the villains. I mean, Amy, Tails, Tangled, or other characters he’s inspired. People who look up to him. Sure, they try, but I can count on one hand how many times he actually listens. Sonic’s always so caught up in doing things his way that he disregards people who mean the most to him.

I mentioned this in my other post but he doesn't listen to Tails in Sonic 06 or Lost World, so the games count.

While Sonic often has valid points in his arguments with others, he frequently comes across as someone who needs to be right. He rarely allows others the opportunity to express their views or admits when he is wrong. This issue is often overlooked in stories where these conflicts arise, either because there isn't enough time to address them or they remain unanswered altogether. This makes sense, considering that Sonic typically doesn’t undergo character arcs canonically. However, I appreciate the presence of characters like Shadow, Knuckles, Surge, Kit, and certain Archie characters like Scurge. They serve to challenge Sonic’s morals and illustrate that he isn’t always correct. If Sonic isn’t going to evolve as a character, at least these figures can show that his sense of freedom and living by his own rules doesn’t work for everyone. They can be portrayed negatively and can challenge his viewpoints. They can be questioned. They can be challenged. Sonic isn’t always right.

His passion shows that he truly wants things to work for everyone. His stubbornness drives him to the point of frustration as he strives to help others to live according to his ideals. However, at times his approach isn’t the most effective. You can see that Sonic genuinely hates this, yet he continues to push forward to help those in need. There’s something both beautiful and heartbreaking about that.

Conclusion

What’s funny is that Sonic rarely gets angry, so you could say this could be one of his few triggers. Along with people being unjust and other such.

Overall, Sonic has good intentions but the results of those intentions are severe. None of this is to imply Sonic’s a terribly written character. It’s just a serious flaw he has. Though listening to his friends more would help.

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like a moment of his friends noticing a constant pattern of him being pertinacious and not paying attention to anyone’s protest. I wouldn’t want it to come out of nowhere, but it’d be an issue that’d progress over a large amount of time and add up. It could be dramatic or constructive depending on the situation and execution. Whatever character does it, they’d either talk to him about it or physically show the outcomes of his actions. They do it all the time in other media but not canonically. This is just random speculation though. I don’t know if I’m in over my head but I hope someone got something out of this.

All of this is not to say Sonic never takes accountability or listens to his friends. SA1 scene with Amy, when he apologizes to Bell in IDW for being too standoffish, and plenty of other examples. Like the end of Sonic movie 3. That Sonic Boom episode where he apologized for not working with his team. And endless moments in Archie and Reboot Archie. Sonic isn’t unreasonable. Just 9 times out of 10 he can get a big head. That’s all.

Stay Creative! 💜

[atinystraynstay]

Love Underneath the Moon - Christopher Bahng

Synopsis: "Coming home to you keeps me fucking sane."

Pairing: idol! Christopher Bahng x fem reader

Genre: fluff at the beginning but turns smut because all I keep thinking about is Chan's back photo from Global Citizen.. thanks Changbin, established relationship, possessive Chan - Minors DNI

Contains: nudity, dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), ending (f. receiving), mentions of female masturbation with sex toys, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, creampie, oral (f. receiving), Chan eats cum out of your pussy (idk what you even call that??)

Word Count: 4.3k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Today has been fucking shit Nothing is going right, nobody is agreeing on anything I just want to be home with you..

Each time you read over the text messages, your heart broke a bit. Chan was the guy who put is 100% into everything he does. Not only because he wants a solid end product, but because he cares. You adored how motivated and dedicated Chan was, especially when it comes to music. He's worked so hard to get to this point.

However, with that high level of dedication came intense frustration when things weren't going his way. You wanted to help him out as much as you could, but Chan sometimes forbid you from coming to the studio. It wasn't that he didn't want you there. You were always the first one to listen to the newest songs or projects. When they were almost finished, that is. If he was in the midst of the hurricane of creativity, he wanted to wait until he rode out the storm.

That left you with only one solution - prepare for Chan to arrive home. You had cleaned the living room, so it was a comfortable space for Chan the moment he walked in. You had his favorite sandalwood candle burning on the coffee table. In the kitchen, you were preparing his favorite meal. God bless his mom for sending you the recipe. You were certain he hadn't eaten since he stepped into the studio.

Chan was the type of guy that took care of everyone before himself. That's why he got so frustrated whenever he was falling short of his own expectations. The songs were pivotal for himself but also the success of his members. He also found himself getting agitated because he was spending more time away from you.

You rarely got the chance to spoil your boyfriend. He often was too insistent that he had to take care of you first, both in the bedroom and on a day-to-day basis. Tonight was going to be different.

Suddenly, you heard the front door of your shared apartment open and the sound of footsteps. You stirred the stew cooking in the pot once more before putting a lid on it, letting it simmer for a few moments. Your boyfriend needed you.

"Princess, I'm home," called out that familiar voice. "Coming!"

Your feet couldn't have carried you faster. You rushed towards the front of the apartment where you spotted your boyfriend. He was slipping off his leather jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack before slipping out of his shoes. He groaned in relief when his feet hit the soft carpet beneath him.

"Welcome home, handsome," you greeted. Chan smiled at the sound of your voice being closer than before. He looked exhausted from his somewhat slumped posture to the look in his eyes. You knew he was due for a good night's sleep, but not before you were attentive to his needs.

Once you were close to him, you snaked your arms around his torso. He pulled you in closer, arms flexed around your smaller frame and holding you close as possible. His face nuzzled into your hair. He loved the scent of your shampoo - coconut with a hint of vanilla. It comforted him. You felt his body somewhat relax just by the physical contact. You placed tiny kisses across the side of his face and jawline.

You knew better than to ask him about work. You already got enough information how work went from the texts exchanged between the two of you. Now that he was home, you wanted to help him forget about the day.

"My girl miss me as much as I missed her?" Chan hummed lightly. "Of course I did," you whispered.

You pulled back gently, just enough to be able to look up into his eyes. He smiled once he got a view of your entire face. Keeping one arm wrapped around you, his other hand reached down to tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His hand then slid forward so he cupped your cheek. His touch was warm and comforting, causing you to naturally lean your face into his palm. He grinned at the gesture.

"Now, I have a few options for us tonight-" you began. "Sweetie, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm exhausted," Chan frowned.

He hated letting you down. You quickly shook your head which caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Just wait until he hears what you have in store for him.

"If you let me finished, I was going to say you can pick what we do," you explained. You kept one arm wrapped around his torso. Your free hand slipped forward to rest on his chest. You allowed your fingertips to run up and down gently, feeling just how toned your boyfriend was. Lord have mercy.

"So, I do have dinner on the stove. It is ready for you now or I can easily put it in the fridge for after," you giggled. "You could also go take off your shirt and let me give you a message, you can go take a shower, or we can go relax in bed for a while until you feel ready to eat. Anything can happen that you'd like, baby boy."

His eyes widened in surprise as his heart swelled with happiness. How did he get so lucky?

"As much as I love your cooking, my body aches. I was going to take a hot shower before we eat, but a massage sounds even better," he confessed. His hands ran up and down your sides affectionately, stopping at your hips. He gave a light squeeze before pulling you in closer. Chan's face moved closer to yours. There was something in his mind transpiring. "And how could I pass up the opportunity of having your hands all over me?" He asked, eyebrow raised but a smirk on his lips. His voice had dropped an octave which only accentuated his accent. It also made you want to drop on your knees for him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Candles were lit all around your bedroom, providing a warm glow to the room. Even under the dimmed lighting, Chan's skin still glowed. He had a playlist he created on Spotify for when the two of you would unwind at night. Currently, "I'm Probably Going To Rock Your World" by Logic was playing through the speakers.

You were straddling Chan's lower back. He was shirtless, muscles relaxed for the time being. His hands gently resting on the comforter beneath him. He always loved the feeling of your body on his. You were his anchor in this life. He would do everything and anything for you as you really go above and beyond for him.

"Just relax, baby," you whispered. "I've got you."

That's all that Chan needed to hear. He crossed his arms and let the left side of his face rest against them. From this position, he could still look back at you.

Your lips began to plant gentle kisses across his face. He had a wide grin on his lips, chuckling and blushing a bit. Chris was still getting used to the fact that you were willing to show him so much affection. He's never had a partner that seemed to be so prideful in being his. It made him all giggly. You smiled lightly against his skin as you pressed the tiny kisses which nearly killed him.

Sitting up slightly, your lips began to press into the back of his neck. They moved slowly to his shoulder blades. You've always been mesmerized by his shoulders, specifically their strength. In every sense, Chan was the strongest person you knew.

He was the leader of the group, he attended every meeting possible so the best decision was being made for the 7 members. He also constantly recorded every single that his mind came up with, most of the time for the others. He always put the 7 boys first before himself.

You also were attracted to his physical strength. You could watch the way his muscles flexed whenever he had to lift, pull, push, or do anything. You wanted to run your hands over every ridge formed, kiss every dimple. How did you get so lucky to have him all to yourself? Reaching beside you, you squirted a bit of lotion into your hands. Gently rubbing them together, just so the lotion spreads over your hands. Your hands got to work at easing his tense muscles. He groaned in bliss at the feeling of your hands against his skin. You felt your stomach tingle at the sound.

You focused on his back muscles first. Your fingertips pressed into his skin, rolling it gently. He hummed at the feeling, shutting his eyes. One of his hands though moved from underneath his head. It moved slowly to rest against your outer thigh.

There was no denying that you loved having Chan's attention. He was a very busy man. You were grateful to be a part of his world, but you loved the moments when nothing else mattered besides you. And to Chan, you were his everything. He was unafraid to show you that. "I'm sorry, sweet girl, that I've been away for a while. I cannot imagine how lonely the nights must've been."

With dance rehearsals, award shows, and promotions, you and Chan have rarely gotten time to just be with each other. Of course, you were incredibly proud to be able to witness firsthand all his hard work paying off. You just couldn't fight that you secretly wished he would be home more rather than seeing each other right when you wake up and right when you fall asleep. "Yet, here you are. Taking care of me?" Chan's hand ran up and down your bare thigh. His fingers ran along the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. He couldn't help but smirk knowing the effect he has on you. "Well, you're the one who had a bad day, baby," you rationalized. "Hmm, I did but you're always going above and beyond for me. I think it's time I return the favor." You didn't get the chance to argue with Chan. Before you knew it, Chan was sitting up. He placed both of his hands on your thighs to ease you onto the bed, so your back hit the comforter. He maneuvered himself so he however above you.

His hands left your thighs, so they could explore the rest of your body. He looked at you with love, with admiration, with lust. One hand rested on your side, caressing your stomach affectionately. The other hand was holding himself up as he leaned over you. "Much better, don't you think?" He winked.

The hand on your stomach slowly moved up underneath your shirt. He moved it slowly, wanting you to feel every ridge of his fingerprint on your skin. His hand slowly moved up and he cupped your left breast. He squeezed it gently, feeling the soft lace under his touch. Lace was always his kryptonite. "Why don't you take it off for me, darling? Hmm? Show me what belongs to me." You didn't have to be told twice. You first slipped off the oversized black shirt off your torso, the one you stole from his closet. The sleeves reached your elbows and came down to your thighs. You tossed the shirt onto the floor, exposing your white lace bra and panties to Chan. He nearly lost it.

"Like what you see?" You giggled.

When the two of you first together, you were a bit on the self-conscious side. You had a string of boyfriends who left more damage than love which made you cautious. Chan was quick to make work on dissolving any self-doubt you had about yourself. He loved watching your confidence grow because it meant that you were seeing yourself as he saw you. You were the whole universe in his eyes. "Baby girl, I fucking love it," he groaned under his breath. "And wearing all white? Really trying to be a good girl or the angel of death because you're going to kill me."

You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics. One hand moved up to run through his hair, gripping it slightly. His jaw clenched as he could feel the lust storming inside of him. Yet, he wanted to keep his composure. He didn't want to go all in unless you gave him the green light. "You know I love you, right?" He murmured. He leaned down to press kisses into your jawline, moving down towards your neck. His lips worked rather quick. He made light nips into your skin, causing you to cling more to him. "But you want to ruin me?" You whispered into his ear.

You were quick to connect the dots. You could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something on his mind. And while you loved making love to your boyfriend, you both were craving each other. You had nowhere else to be but with each other. Your tone was light and seductive. It caused Chan's mind to become fuzzy as all he could think about was slamming his cock in your pussy. He craved your warm, wet, tight pussy as you screamed his name. The only name that could leave your mouth for the rest of your days. His inner thoughts revealed themselves as you could feel his boner pressing against your inner thigh.

"You read my fucking mind, darling." "Then what are you waiting for? Ruin my pussy for anyone else."

There it is. The green light.

He slowly sat up, looking down at you. You swore you'd never seen a more beautiful sight. And he was all yours. You smiled at him gently, showing him you were ready for everything that he was ready to give you.

The mood in the room shifted. Nothing prepared you for Chan gripping the lace of your panties and ripping them off your hips. You gasped in surprised, staring up at him with wide eyes. You always knew Chan was strong, but god damn. He could go through your whole underwear drawer if he wanted to because that was the hottest thing you've ever witnessed.

His ego boosted seeing as how your legs immediately opened for him. You have always been so responsive to him.

"My girl has been so patient for me, waiting every night for me to come home," he hummed. "Been craving this dick for so long, haven't you?" "I've missed your cock so much, daddy. Nothing can replace you." "You haven't been playing with yourself while I've been away then?" His eyebrow was raised. Oh fuck.

"Because don't think I didn't notice the pink vibrator you tucked underneath your pillow the other night. I know I never gave you permission because you never asked. What is one of daddy's rules?"

You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. You did your best to keep yourself occupied. Chan always appreciated his good girl. You would text him, saying how needy you were for his touch. The past few days of been silent on your end when it came to the topic. He figured you were just busy. "Well?" His tone now an octave lower. It accentuated his Australian accent, making your pussy become wetter in an instant. "Answer me." "To always ask daddy for permission before pleasing myself." "Very good. Daddy just likes to make sure his girl is being taken care of. I don't like lying." Before you could rush out apologizes to your significant other, his fingers smacked against your clit. The slap caused your legs to jolt a bit, pleasure running up your spin. "I really should punish you tonight." His words contradicted his actions. At first, his fingers gently rubbed small circles into your clit to ease the ache. Then, he moved his fingers to run up and down his slit. He smirked with satisfaction feeling already how wet you were for him. "But you went through so much trouble for me. It's as if you knew you got caught and were already trying to make up for it."

Your mind was a bit fuzzy already with the lust taking over. It's been weeks without the two of you being able to be intimate. There really wasn't anything that Ould replace how Chan makes you feel. You just needed something to hold you over, but you weren't able to risk saying that. You weren't in the mood for teasing. If being compliant got you what you desired most which was Chan stretching you out with his thick dick, you'd do whatever it took. "I'm sorry, daddy," you whimpered.

He smiled down at you gently before placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. You fluttered your eyes at the gesture but soon shot them up at the feeling of Chan's two fingers entering your pussy. He moved his forehead against yours, wanting to see your reaction.

His fingers already reached places your own could never. He made quick work to scissor his fingers. Chan always took pride in providing for you, in taking care of you. Foreplay and making sure you were properly ready, both physically but also emotionally and mentally were top priority for him. Skipping this step was a non-negotiable. "Oh, I know you are, baby girl. I know you can only be so patient for so long. I'm honestly impressed with how long you went before breaking." He didn't need to know just how many times you broke that rule. Not yet at least.

Your grip tightened on his hair as he curled his fingers in your pussy. The walls of your pussy were already clenching on his fingers, nearly making Chan roll his eyes back into his head. His fingers moved with urgency into you, his thumb moving to circle your clit. You cried out both in relief and pleasure at the feeling.

"My girl has really missed me."

All you could do was nod your head. You normally aren't the type to get this worked up over fingering, but given the circumstances and given that it was Chan - there was no surprise. You felt your clit throb from the stimulation and your legs twitch, your stomach growing warmer and tighter.

Not yet though. Chan wanted to experience that level of euphoria inside of you. Sure, he loved knowing that he could make you cum with just his fingers. He loved seeing that he was the one that made you see the stars.

Right now, with his cock throbbing inside his shorts, he needed to be inside of you. He wanted your pussy to squeeze his cock.

Just as you were about to warn close of your approaching high, he pulled his fingers out of you. He chuckled at your shocked state. You were so close. The lose of contact caused you to whimper. He almost felt bad. Almost.

He winked at you before sticking his two fingers in his mouth. He hummed loudly, loving the taste of you. It was his favorite thing in the world. He maintained eye contact with you, wanting you to know how attracted he was to you. He would do everything to make sure you never questioned his attraction to you.

Pop.

His fingers were pulled out of his mouth. The sound of their removal bouncing off the walls. "Sweet like honey."

Chan slowly sat up on his knees to pull his shorts. You both were grateful for your lack of clothing. it meant you two could get to each other sooner. He kicked them off, so they joined the shirts discarded on the floor. His cock slapped up against his stomach, the tip red with anger at being restrained for so long.

He was a work of art.

"No boxers, baby?" you giggled. "No, I knew I'd come up and fuck you the moment I left this morning."

You don't know what you did in your previous lives to be grated with being Chan's lover, but you were forever grateful.

Wasting no more time, Chan slid in between your legs. He placed one hand by your head. You tilted your head over to place a delicate kiss to Chan's wrist. You couldn't help yourself.

Even though it was rather intense in the room, that didn't mean you wouldn't let an opportunity pass by the show Chan how much he meant to you. He never crumbled at the gesture but quickly regained his composure.

With his free hand on your side, his knee pushed your thigh further apart. Just enough so he could slid in and place the head of your cock at your entrance. You moaned softly at the feeling. So close.

"Your pussy is mine, got it?"

You didn't even get to nod before Chan slammed into you. You moaned loudly at the feeling. His cock stretched you out, even after he fingered you properly. He groaned as your walls welcomed his cock, gripping already from how worked up and desperate you are. He rolled his head back. "So fucking gorgeous, babe. Fuck," he murmured before his hips began a brutal pace.

There was no time to hold back. You and Chan have gone far too long without being so intimate, all of it was being laid out. His hand gripped your side as his hips began to ram into you in a rhythm. The way he filled you up made you delirious.

His eyes never left you. He loved watching you fall apart in front of him. The grip you had on his bicep further encouraged him to give you everything he had.

The sound of wet skin slapping made him feral. He watched as your eyes rolled back, your cheeks a light pink color. Your lips were slightly parted as you moaned without any control. "That's it, darling. I know it feels good. Let everyone know how good it feels."

You moaned his name loudly. You're let one leg hook around his hip, keeping him close. In some ways, this is everything you wanted. You wanted him to just fuck you. Nothing more, nothing less. On the other hand, you craved just feeling him close to you. You craved his body heat.

This was all he wanted too. He wanted you all to himself, he wanted to be vulnerable and intimate with you. Having sex was just a bonus.

Given that Chan had teased you prior, it didn't take long for you to feel that familiar feeling return. Your back arched slightly as Chan made sure to angle his hips, wanting his cock to press against your g-spot and also make sure all of him was inside. You needed to feel every inch of him.

"C-Chan, I'm already close. I-I'm sorry, I can hold off and wait for you."

Your words were rushed. You felt guilty that tonight had become all about you, but honestly, this was Chan's perfect night. He smiled sickeningly sweet at you. Even with his cock filling you to the brim, you were the sweetest person. You were looking after him still even though he wanted nothing more than to cater to your desires.

"I know, darling. Don't apologize. Just let yourself go."

Your mind hesitated for a second. However, your body had other intentions. With one powerful thrust into your pussy, you came undone. You cried out in pleasure as your vision became white. Your toes curled slightly against the comforter. Chan admired for a moment the way your body shook.

That was all it took for Chan. He came just at the sight of you reaching your orgasm. He was satisfied seeing the sheen layer of sweat that coated your face and neck. He was over the moon the way your body trembled as you came down from your high. Your pussy walls was spasming against his cock

He groaned loudly as he came into your pussy. Hot spurts of his semen filled you deliciously. You could melt into the bed with all the love surrounding you.

Slowly, Chan pulled out of you. He felt his cock twitch slightly at the sight his cum seeping out of your pussy. You attempted to close your legs, but his hands stopped you. He wanted to take a second to admire his work.

Your chest was still rising and falling, but you were trying to come down quickly to rejoin him back in reality. Chan chuckled lightly underneath his breath before leaning down, licking a long strip to collect all the cum leaving your pussy.

You could die from the sight in between your legs. Sensing your eyes on him, Chan looked up. He winked at you before swallowing his cum. Lord have mercy.

Chan kissed your inner thigh before sitting up, allowing you to close your legs. He kissed up your stomach, in between your breasts, your neck. The kisses were cool yet set your skin ablaze. Your arms wrapped around his neck once he got closer to you.

The two of you were smiling wide, eyes disappearing and cheeks aching. Yet, neither of you could care. All the lonely nights were worth it for this one singular moment. And surely, there would be more moments like tonight to come. Your fingers played with the hair on the back of Chan's neck which made him chuckle, finding it both ticklish and enduring.

Soon, his lips moved to hover over your ear. His breath was warm as it hit the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Your heart raced with anticipation. What else did he have up his sleeve? "I hope you enjoyed your last orgasm from me for a little bit. Bad girls still get punished, no matter how good they try to be."

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Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope 2024 treats you well 🩷 I started writing on Tumblr as a way to bring some happiness back into my life. I've always been drawn to writing, so I'm glad that I have another way to get my thoughts, ideas, and whatever else out there for other people. I'm definitely looking to writing more in the new year

[alessandra-14]

Quiet sister, concerned brothers

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Summery: Dean and Sam Winchester have a 15 year old half sister who often feels neglected and overlooked by her brothers. Her sadness and loneliness build up until she can no longer hide her feelings.

Trigger warning: way to much use of Y/N, emotional neglect

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I used a different perspective this time. Please please let me know which one you prefer so I know what to continue with! Thanks.

The creaky old bunker was silent, a rare occurrence given the nature of it's inhabitants. Y/N sat on her bed, the flickering light from a nearby lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hugged her knees tight to her chest, feeling the weight of another day spend in the background.

Sam and Dean, her older brothers, had been on a hunt all day. She texted them but unsurprisingly received no answer from any of them. They returned the next day around noon with stories about demons and near-death experiences, hardly acknowledging her presence as they recounted their tiring adventures.

Y/N was used to this. As long as she can remember, she had been the quiet, shy girl who stayed in the shadows while her brothers were always the center of attention.

She loved them dearly, of course she did. They have raised her, they gave her a family. Something she never new before them. But the constant feeling of being forgotten gnawed at her heart. She knew they didn't mean to emotionally neglect her, it was just how things were. Sam and Dean are hunters and she is just…. there

….

A week later they were on the road again, driving to a small town in Nebraska where strange disappearances had been reported. Y/N joined them this time. She felt as if she is going to suffocate if she stayed in that bunker for any longer.

She sat in the back of the Impala with her head resting against the cold window. The low rumble of the engine was almost comforting, a familiar sound in her otherwise tumultuous life.

Dean glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, a frown creasing his forehead. "You okay back there kid?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam turned around in his seat, giving her a concerned look. "You sure? You've been pretty quiet lately. More than usual. You barely talk to us." "Yeah I'm fine, just tired", she lied, hoping they would drop the subject. She didn't want to burden them with her feelings. They had enough to worry about.

Dean just shrugged and turned up the music, and Sam went back to his research. Both of them just believing her lie for now. None of them had the energy to deal with it at the moment.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to push away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The hunt went relatively well. Sure it could have gone way better but it's not the worst one they've had so far. Turns out the disappearances were caused by a little groupe of vampires. Fortunately for them it was easy to track them down to an abandoned warehouse. The killing part was a bit more tricky though.

Y/N helped out a lot this time. She was quite proud of herself for that. Thought that Sam and Dean would be impressed but did they even acknowledge her hard work? absolutely not.

"You did good kid but you could definitely improve your skills with the machete and you also need to work more on your stamina you are way to slow." Those are the first words she hear from Dean as they walk back to the car. Of course it hurts. She tried so hard to make them acknowledge her skills but apparently all they see is her weakness or simply nothing at all.

Sam doesn't confirm Dean's criticism but he also doesn't defend his sister in any way. The walk back to the car is just silent and tense. A feeling Y/N is simply sick of.

It doesn't get any better in the car so all she does is put her headphones in to listen to music to drown her loud bad thoughts and her brother's voices.

....

The next time they went on a hunt didn't go differently. Y/N was allowed to join again. She even tried to show of her great skills against the witch they had to fight but once again it went mostly unnoticed by the two brothers. The only thing that stuck with them was how slow she moved and how much she apparently hesitated when shooting the witch.

She kept quiet for the whole ride back to the bunker. What was she supposed to say anyway.

Back at the bunker Dean is the first one to break the silence between the siblings. "Hey kiddo remind me to teach you how to use a gun properly. You suck a little at that" He said as he went to grab a beer. His words were meant in a playful way but for Y/N it's enough to set her off completely.

"Can't you just stop with that?!" Sam and Dean both turn to look at her with a confused frown. "Stop with what?" Dean asks bewildered.

"With t-this! I just can't listen to you constantly telling me that I am not good enough. Every time I do something good you find something bad to say. Both of you just completely ignored the fact that I killed the witch on the hunt today all that was important to you was to tell me I suck at shooting! And when you don't criticize everything I do, you just don't talk to me. I simply get ignored. That's not fair!"

Y/N stopped once she ran out of breath but she was not anywhere near done letting everything out

"Y/N what-" Sam immediately gets interrupted by his sister. "No! I'm done. I'm done with hunting. I am done doing anything in my power to make you acknowledge my hard work for nothing and I am done with seeking your validation and attention at all times!"

None of the brothers get a chance to say anything because the second the girl is done she storms off to her room. Not that they knew what to say anyway.

The silence that follows is a tense one. Both brothers are at loss for words. Her speech was something none of them expected to hear. "Should we go check up on her? That was pretty intense"

But Sam shakes his head at Dean's suggestion. "No, we should let her cool off for a bit. I'll check up on her later"

....

Dean can't help but think about every interaction he had with his sister after every hunt and he unfortunately has to admit to himself that what Y/N said was true. The guilt is more than visible on his face it seems as if he is drowning in it. Sam isn't feeling any better. He is trying his best to no stand up and rush into his sisters bedroom and apologize for everything he and his brother said to her to make her feel as if she was not good enough.

He is holding that urge back fairly well but the moment he heard loud crying from her room he decides he is done with waiting and giving her space. He just needs to see if she is alright and fix this.

He walks up towards the door of your bedroom and softly knocks on it. "Hey...do you mind if we talk for a moment? I just want to make sure you're okay" Sam waits for a couple seconds which feels like minutes to him. But he receives no answer from the girl on the other side of the door. So he tries again but yet he gets no answer this time either.

Sam knows her silence is answer enough and turns around to leave. Not even two steps later he hears the door opening and his little sister's sad sniffles. He turns towards her and the mere sight of his sibling standing there with red rimmed eyes and a tired expression, was enough to break his heart into many pieces. Especially because he knows he is at fault.

"We can talk if you want" Her voice sounds raspy and her words come out quiet. A big indicator that she has been crying for a long time.

Sam simply nods and follows her into her room. Both sit down on the bed. Y/N looks towards her hands and keeps her gaze fixated on that.

"I wanted to apologize for making you feel as if you are not good enough. That was really not alright. You are great kid. You help us out so much. Doesn't matter if it's with research, or hunting or just helping around the bunker. Dean and I appreciate it. We appreciate you"

Y/N scoffs which slightly takes her older brother by surprise. "Well none of you know how to show that said appreciation"

Sam sighs since he knows she is right. "I know we don't but I really mean it when I say that we do care and do acknowledge your help and hard work. Even when we tell you about the thing you could improve. I also know how harsh Dean's words must have sounded to you and he feels bad. He really does."

The teenaged girl stays silent for a moment before finally nodding. "I forgive you. But I still want to take a little break from hunting. I'll help with research, sure but that's all. It's just too much right now" Sam agrees with you. "Sure that's fine. I understand, kid. And so will Dean"

Y/N looks up from her fidgeting fingers and turns her head towards her brother while wiping her tears. "Thank you Sam"

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. Please" Another silence follows after Sam's words. Yet this time it's not tense or heavy. It's comforting.

[r0tting-rat]

"Little pest."

Hi Magpie!!! Gift :> Just a lil thing for a very talented someone with an incredible au. Yeah I'm a huge simp for their alien boys what about it /silly

Pairing: Alien King!Eclipse (by @sleepymagpie-draws) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None, maybe just a bit ooc (sorry mags) Words: 4000+ Summary: You're bored and can't sleep. Thank god you have someone to annoy to pass the time <3 Heavily inspired by this ask/art!!! Literally died when I saw it he's so beautiful. Additional tags: TouchSTARVED reader. Starved as hell. Also fluff fluff fluff so much fluff. Magpie I love him can you tell. (Reminder everyone that the reader has techincally been kidnapped, but they're pretty chill about it dw)

Who said being kidnapped by aliens is a terrifying and horrible experience? It has already been months since Sun literally grabbed you and brought you with him, and you have yet to be put on a vivisectionist's table. In fact, all you have known since then are silky sheets, soft pillows, ornate plates of fresh fruits you have never seen before, and heavy pieces of jewelry that hang down your neck and rest fresh against your sternum. You live better than you used to back on Earth, spoiled rotten by three royals every single day of your dull life, sleeping in a bed three times the size of a human one, and with countless workers ready to be summoned at your every call. Although, you have to admit that you much prefer the attention of your “captors” compared to the one of their servants, feeling like their soft touches work like a relaxing balm on your mood. 

The one of the three brothers you see less is Eclipse, and even if you can bet your money on the fact that he must be constantly busy due to his duties as a king, you can’t help but wish you could spend more time with him, craving the way he gently scratches the top of your head with his claws whenever he manages to stop by and pay you a visit.

Rolling around in the soft sheets of the bed you are resting on, looking up at the dull ceiling, you feel like a pampered and neglected pet at the same time, left to the care of strangers who refuse to speak more than quick sentences to you, covered by precious gifts from head to toe and fed with silver spoons while also being locked alone in your quarters for hours without end. 

You complain, of course. To Sun, Moon, and anyone who’s willing to swing by and listen, really. You grumble and whine; you roll on your bed and do your best attempt at puppy eyes, but all the brothers do is laugh and caress your cheeks. There are rules—they say—rules that can’t be broken, and each time they remind you, you roll your eyes. They promised you books and games to pass the time, but as you wait for the shipment from Earth to arrive, you are left with nothing. You don’t understand the language of the heavy volumes collecting dust in the bookshelves of your room, and something tells you you wouldn’t enjoy reading them even if you did.

The part of the brothers’ visits you hate the most is when you see them stand up and prepare to leave, because you know that the very moment the door closes behind them, it locks, leaving you stuck in your room for hours. There’s no real keyhole in your door, so you can only guess how it works, but from what you have gathered so far, it seems like it’s semi-automatic but opens only when you’re coming in from the outside. Listening to Sun and Moon made you realize another thing as well: their rooms seem to be close to yours—maybe even adjacent—and the thought infuriates you. So close, and yet so far! Why do they so rarely visit you if they are so close by? Do they have other places to rest? Do they sleep at all? Are the bedrooms just for show? Drowning in questions, you decide that it’s time to break some rules, and when Eclipse finally stops by to visit you after dinner, you come up with a plan. 

The alien is so tall the tip of his crown brushes over the canopy of your bed as he leans over your draped form on the bed. He rests one of his hands on top of your head, brushing your hair back, and you look up at him with a pout.

“Finally decided to pay attention to me?” you say, swatting his hand away and sitting up. You know you’re being a brat, but if they so desire to treat you as a glorified pet, then you might as well show them the reality of owning one. From under his crown, which you consider more like a helmet or mask, you hear the disappointed clicking of his mandibles that translates through your magnetic ring with a soft cooing sound.

“Oh, my pet, are you feeling neglected?” he asks, coming back to gently run his claws through your hair. He loves to do it, and you love allowing him.

“I’m bored, Eclipse.” You have no qualms about calling him by his real name, ignoring any honorific everyone around keeps suggesting to you. “I’m bored, and it’s been almost a week since your last visit.”

You shift back on the bed a little so it doesn’t seem done on purpose, and you watch as the terrifyingly huge alien climbs on the disarranged covers to follow you. He never fully enters your personal space, always keeping enough room between the two of you to keep things “formal,” in a way, but you also noticed how he likes to have you at arm’s length. Every time you are in the same room as Eclipse, one of his four arms is always touching you, resting on your head or shoulder, tilting your chin up, sometimes even running his claws from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck just to see you shiver and glare at him.

“My apologies,” he says, and his words sound sincere, “I promise the shipment will arrive shortly; you’ll have your books in no time.”

“It’s not the books that I want, though,” you reply, leaning closer, and that causes Eclipse to slightly move back, like he’s scared you might end up too close to his face. “You kidnapped me, dragged me here, then proceeded to simply ignore me.”

You weren’t being ignored, of course. You were just acting dramatic so as to get what you wanted.

“I’m sure I do not need to remind you who of the three of us is the one at fault for your presence here. As I told you already, I’m afraid I cannot bring you with me while I work, pet,” Eclipse sighs, “After we expanded on your little planet, both Sun and Moon’s responsibilities and tasks have doubled as well. It has to be said, your fellow humans are quite rowdy.”

You turn your head away, pretending to look saddened by the news—nothing you hadn’t expected, of course, but still.

“Also, the thought of you roaming these halls alone makes us all uneasy,” he adds, “You could get lost, or someone could see you and be scared to the point of calling the guards on you. That’s why we must lock your door, my pet, to keep you safe.”

“Not because you think I might run away?” you question, eyebrows rising up with skepticism, and Eclipse purrs with amusement.

“Run off? And where to, silly?” he laughs, “You wouldn't even know how to leave this place, let alone return to your home planet.”

He’s right; running from them would have been stupid. Plus, you don’t really want to escape—not when you have two princes and a king spoiling you like that—you just need to leave that damned room for at least five minutes so as to not go mad! Is it too much to ask not to be subjected to psychological torture?

“Are you returning tomorrow morning?” you ask, hopeful, and Eclipse shakes his head. You groan, now seriously disappointed, and try not to lean too much into the touch of his hand caressing your cheek. The contact burns, like living embers, and you have to stifle a second groan. It’s been so long since you had some form of physical contact with a human, and something tells you it’s starting to take a toll on you, making you more compliant and demanding of attention. It could be due to the unfamiliar setting, which you simply can’t grow accustomed to despite how much you walk the perimeter of your large room, or the complete absence of familiar faces, but the cause of it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you need to be hugged, to be cuddled, to be held, and to be caressed. You’re touch starved, so hungry for it you could just throw yourself at Eclipse and cling on his neck until he relents and decides to sleep there with you or bring you to his room—either way, you’d get a full night of cuddles; too bad common decency stops you from hugging a king like a koala. 

“I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m afraid not. I’m sure Sun and Moon might be able to clear their schedules in the afternoon, though, so don’t fret.”

His words are apologetic, but you feel as if they were said with the sole purpose of bringing you harm because they do nothing but hurt you. 

Eclipse leaves after a while of chatting, bringing all the warmth of the room with him, and you watch him from your spot on the edge of the bed as he walks towards the door. You’re on your back, head hanging down the bed, staring blankly at the heels of the king and mentally preparing your next move. You act fast. The door opens, Eclipse slips away, and right before it closes, you throw a pillow in the gap of the threshold. The noise of the pillow falling is soft and muffled, and Eclipse doesn’t seem to notice that the door hasn’t closed completely behind him; instead, he simply walks away in the white corridor outside your room, and you stare at your successful attempt with surprise. You actually did it! The door is still open, blocked by the red pillow, and you finally have access to the rest of the rooms. 

Carefully standing up from your bed, like afraid someone from outside could hear you, you make your way towards the exit and peek out, hoping not to be met with Eclipse’s disappointed masked face. When your eyes travel the length of the long corridor extending before you like a white snake, you find no sign of any alien, and a smile splits on your lips from ear to ear.

The idea of immediately beginning to explore is alluring, but you know better than to leave when it’s still so early. You must wait some time until you’re sure Eclipse must have already retreated to his room for the night, and then enact the second phase of your plan.

Once you’re finally sure enough time has passed since the king has wished you goodnight, you finally push fully open the door of your room, looking around once more to make sure the coast is clear. After that, you put the pillow back to stop the door just in case it couldn’t be opened from outside like you thought, and walk in the direction you’re almost sure Eclipse has taken. During your short trip, you notice the complete lack of furniture or wall decorations in the halls, mumbling to yourself about “rich people’s lack of taste,” occasionally finding a door and trying to open it with no success, and you’re just about to give up when you finally place your open palm against one tall frame and see it move at your gentle touch. 

You stare in disbelief at the room opening before you, large and barren at the same time, trying to understand who the place belongs to while lingering on the door sill. In the darkness you see thousands of books neatly arranged on tall bookshelves, with their colorful and ornate hard covers staring at you as if they’re aware you’re a stranger, and as you enter you notice many have a broken spine. Those books, you realize, have been well loved by someone, or maybe simply re-read dozens of times out of need. It doesn’t matter to you, because what you’re most interested in is the second door in a corner of the room, likely leading to the actual bedchambers. It seems like the initial area has been arranged to be used as an office, separated from the personal spaces, but if that isn’t the truth, then you might have simply stepped into a random library and made a fool of yourself in front of the books. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and the monkey part of your brain keeps screaming that there’s someone watching you, but the deeper you go in the quarters, the more you keep telling yourself that it’s just your imagination. Your bare feet leave a slight trail on the carpet in the middle of the room as you walk towards the second door. 

As expected, the second room is more similar to a bedroom, although it doesn’t seem to gain any form of personality compared to the office you just left, almost as if the owner of the room doesn’t spend too much time in it. It wouldn’t fit Sun to sleep into such a sterile and dark ambience, and you feel like Moon would also take some more care into creating a welcoming area for himself, so that leaves out only one of the three brothers. 

The size of the bed confirms your theory: you have ended up exactly in Eclipse’s room, and you’re face to face with his sleeping form. Or, at least you guess it must be him, considering how dark it is in that corner. The only source of light in the room is a large window kept almost entirely shut, not allowing a ray of starlight to enter, so you really can’t be sure of anything.

The canopy bed in front of you is enormous, of a deep burgundy color, and see-through curtains drape over it to hide the figure in the middle. As you study the fabrics with the tips of your fingers, testing the softness, you find yourself enamored by it, beginning to press your open palms in the covers and then your face. You breathe in the scent, delicate while also heavy in your nostrils, and recognize the amazing aroma Eclipse brings with him everywhere he goes. You have no idea if it’s his favorite perfume or simply his natural scent; all you know is that it reminds you of the time you fell asleep on the king’s cape while he stopped for a visit, and the morning after, you found it still draped over you like a heavy cloak.

With your face in the covers, you simply close your eyes and let the memory play in your mind, affection blooming in your chest and throat like a warm flower, not noticing the dark frame towering over you from behind. Eclipse, from the height of his 8 ft, looks down at you like you’re nothing but a silly rabbit caught in a trap, about to be served for dinner to a horde of hungry guests. 

“What exactly are you doing here, little pest?” he asks, and his deep growl makes you jump in the spot. When you turn around, your heart is racing, your eyes are wide open, and you feel more like prey than ever before in your life. As soon as you realize that Eclipse isn’t wearing his crown, you suddenly feel your blood pumping in your throat, and your cheeks grow warm at the sight of the red marks around his eyes and the dark color of his face sweetly mixing together, hypnotizing you for a second. All you can think of in that little head of yours is that the male should take off the helm more often so as to let his beautiful eyes see the light of day. 

It isn’t the first time you saw him without the headpiece; sometimes he takes it off after he comes back from a long meeting with his advisors, and the sight always strikes you like lightning.

Eclipse—it has to be said—is beautiful. Not only for the eyes, which are of a wonderful milky color that makes you feel as if they’re cursing you with some kind of magic, but also for his soft features, unfortunately hidden for most of the time. Did his citizens even know their king looked like that? Heavens, you suddenly remember why you’re so happy that you’ve been kidnapped.

Eclipse is wearing something similar to a robe that wraps around his torso while leaving his chest open, with long sleeves covering his four large arms, and everything is kept into place by a tie in the front. He must have been on his way to go to bed before you interrupted him.

“It is only polite to answer when a royal addresses you,” the alien angruily reminds you, and you suddenly realize you haven’t said a thing since he entered. 

“I just… I wanted, I was…” None of your sentences are making sense, so you swallow the lump in your throat and force your mind to clear itself of all the other distracting thoughts. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Eclipse.”

That sentence paired with some well-played puppy eyes is enough to make the alien sigh and relent, annoyed, probably too tired to argue with you after a long day of work.

“I don’t know how you left your room, but that’s unimportant now. You should return, it’s late,” he says, and you pout.

“Why can’t I sleep here?” you ask, and Eclipse looks down at you like you have grown a second head. 

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” he sounds incredulous, “I’ll wake up early.”

You shrug after fake-pondering for a second. You had already made your decision. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply with a small smile, “I sleep for the most part of the day anyway, so I’m well rested.”

Eclipse’s eyes turn into slits as he stares down at you, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other pair of fists on his hips. You can’t help but admire the dip of his collarbones as the fabric of his robe reveals more of him.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he sighs, and your smile widens as you see his resolve start to break. You shake your head, and Eclipse finally relents. “Fine, get on the bed already.”

With a smug expression, you jump on the soft covers, happy with your little win, and you watch from behind the see-through curtain the king as he walks back in his personal library and returns, a moment later, with a book in his hand. You turn around, curious, and realize that the frame you thought belonged to Eclipse was actually just a bunch of pillows stuffed under the covers. Had he put them there because he had heard you come in? That would explain why he was ready to jump on you the very moment you turned your back.

The king motions you to get under the covers, then parts the curtains to slip in himself. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tense frame relaxes once his body finally rests on the mattress, as if the dark red sheets weren’t made of fabric but rippling water of a warm spring. One of his hands wraps around you, caressing your back, and you take it as a sign you can scoot closer and lay your cheek on his chest. The contact is pleasant, sending a nice buzzing of emotions down your spine, and you find yourself leaning onto him more and more every second, warm face resting on a cold and hard exoskeleton with a sigh. His main pair of arms opens the book on a page in the middle, and, with his back against the headboard, he begins reading a book with pages covered in mysterious letters and signs.

You can’t help your curiosity, and the words slip out of your mouth even before you can stop them. You don’t want to bother him, but you crave to hear him talk to you some more. 

“What are you reading?” you ask, and Eclipse begins to smile.

“Fiction. After so many hours spent on documents, I need something to distract my mind.”

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you murmur, and your sentence makes him laugh.

“You just don’t know me enough, pet,” he almost purrs, and once again your face heats up. How can he say that as if it was nothing? You do want to know him more—in fact, you want to know everything about Eclipse. You want to know his favorite books, his favorite scents, what he does in the morning after waking up, and what he likes to eat. You want to ask about his childhood, you want to spend time with him and his brothers, you want to learn more about their culture and more about them as well. You want to be able to spend every second with the three of them, but you can’t, so you cherish the moment you have with Eclipse before you eventually fall asleep.

“That’s something we can always change,” you say, nuzzling closer to him and closing your eyes for a moment. You’re so close you can hear the pumping of his heart under his exoskeleton, and the sound of it is almost lulling you to sleep. “What’s the story about?”

“Ah, just a tale about two lovers,” he explains, “It’s tragic, but I can’t fall asleep without reading at least a chapter.”

“I hope it’s not too tragic,” you murmur, “It’d be sad if one died.”

“I must agree with you here,” Eclipse hugs you even closer. “They’re made for each other. If one were to pass away, I have no idea what the other would do.”

You feel cradled by the gentleness in his words, the emotion that you so rarely hear in them, like a hand caressing your cheek and tilting your face up. When you do open your eyes, you find Eclipse fondly looking down at you with a small smile.

“Keep going,” you mutter, fighting with your own heavy eyelids as you speak, “I wanna know about them…”

“Sleep, my dear pet,” Eclipse whispers instead, bending down to kiss the top of your head, “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

You don’t want tomorrow to come, you know you wouldn’t stand to see him wearing his crown and leave for the day. The thought is so painful you curl up into a ball and groan, and you stop only when a pair of strong arms hold you close to a hard chest, and you realize that Eclipse has fully slipped under the cover and is now gently hugging you, one hand on the nape of your neck, another burying its fingers in your hair, and the last two resting on your hips. Another kiss is placed on your forehead, and you swear you might just start boiling on the spot.

“What about your book?” you ask with a tired and groggy voice, wrapping yourself around Eclipse some more, like you’re afraid someone might come in and untangle you from him. 

“It’ll wait,” the king answers. 

“But you said you can’t sleep without reading…” Your eyes are closed again, and this time you feel like they might not open until morning.

“This can work as well.” 

You finally fall asleep cradled and hugged by Eclipse’s arms, uncaring of his hard shell being so different from any kind of fur or skin humans might find more comfortable, and when you do manage to sleep into your own world, you do it with a smile on your lips. You’re no longer afraid of turning around right after waking up and finding the bed empty and cold, not anymore, not when Eclipse is making up for all the lack of affection you had to endure. 

Next time, you’ll try to see if you can rope Sun and Moon into it too. It’d be nice to have a sleepover all together.

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS AND THEIR

SOFT SPOTS FOR YOU

( include piastri, norris, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russel, verstappen & ricciardo )

warning : fluff

─ OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar is a reserved and introverted person who doesn't really spend time chatting with everyone. He prefers to say as little as possible because after all it's his shy nature that makes him that way. However, it is absolutely not uncommon to find him hiding behind the McLaren motorhome, a big smile on his lips as he never stops telling anecdotes about himself, to the person standing in front of him. To the only person who is able to bring out his extroverted nature, the only person who makes his heart beat secretly.

─ LANDO NORRIS

He always conveys this image of a sarcastic man, always confident and full of humor. He doesn't give up and he always has that same confidence that you adore so much every time he walks next to you. And it is precisely by your side that he feels the weakest, the least confident and the most clumsy. This image of a confident man crumbles to give way to a man completely sick of love for you, so in love that you wonder if he doesn't have two different personalities, one of which is specially reserved just for you. Only you haven't noticed it yet.

─ CHARLES LECLERC

This man is always pleasant and smiling. Friendly with everyone, and above all, above all generous with you. Only you anyway. Do you want to eat something ? He pays you for it. Do you need new clothes? He offers you a collection. Do you absolutely want to try a restaurant? He's already reserving the table for you. It almost becomes tiring for those close to him, who complain for never receiving so many things from him. And despite these teasing complaints, he absolutely will not stop offering you everything, even if it means ending up in debt.

─ CARLOS SAINZ

He absolutely doesn't want to break away from you. This is perhaps the most obvious and certainly effective way to show you that he only has eyes for you, but he doesn't want to let you go. You're always in his company, no matter what you're doing. At first, you found it strange, but you got used to it because after all you yourself hoped to see an ounce of hope for a possible relationship. And obviously, that’s the case. He's just waiting for the right moment, so he's hoping to keep you all to himself by spending 100% of his day with you.

─ LEWIS HAMILTON

He is literally the sweetest to EVERYONE. He has a pure heart, he is naturally kind so it is difficult to determine the way he is and acts when he is with you. Except one thing. He only confides in you. It's simple, he really finds you perfect, but you also give him a feeling of calm, softness and confidence, that he has absolutely no problem coming to confide in you. There is no person in the world who knows how to listen to him better than you, so of course he will take advantage of every little opportunity to chat with you. At first he will confide, but eventually you will talk about everything and nothing, the hearts seeing in Lewis's eyes.

─ GEORGE RUSSEL

The team's employees wonder where these multitudes of little notes hanging everywhere in the Mercedes motorhome come from. George would simply respond that these notes were carefully written by him for the most beautiful person on earth, namely you. He loves this game, leaving behind random notes with sweeter words one after the other, just to make you smile. He always makes sure to have a pack of notes with him so he can hide some, and above all feel his heart overflowing with love while observing your cute reactions.

─ MAX VERSTAPPEN

This boy enjoys complimenting you so much. It's one of his favorite things, because he loves feeling his heart warm up when he sees your cheeks color and your smile widen. My god, he could do this all day and never get bored. It's quite special and new for him, because he's not the type to compliment others. It's even quite rare for him, that's why he reserves this side of himself only for you. He makes sure to remind you how magnificent, beautiful, intelligent, perfect, funny you are... in short, the list goes on

─ DANIEL RICCIARDO

He always wants to see you smile. Even when he's not feeling well, the only thing that can cheer him up is your beautiful smile so he always makes the effort to be the funniest to see it appear. You might think that this is normal coming from him, after all it is the ray of sunshine that brings this good humor to the F1 world. But the subtleties, like the fact that he tries to make you laugh more than the other boys, that you're the only person he makes laugh every minute, that he teases you to get your attention. These subtleties are proof that he may be feeling a little too much love towards you.