#why did I spend so much time doing this!!

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS IV

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne, ft. batfam

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 2k synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: Here it is! The final part! Hope Y'all enjoyed! Also I hope I got everyone who asked to be on the tag list, if I missed you I am so sorry!

Bruce lifted a brow at the sound of heavy footsteps and the sight of Jason sauntering into the manor kitchen, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder like he owned the place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pausing mid-bite, fork suspended halfway to his mouth.

Jason didn’t break stride. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcome,” he drawled, dropping the duffle beside a chair with a solid thud.

Bruce sighed, setting down his utensils. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just you have your own place.”

Jason shrugged, nonchalant. “Maybe I just felt like spending some quality time with dear old Dad.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed, eyes flicking over him like a scanner calibrating for irregularities. Jason was calm. Casual. Civil. Voluntarily in the manor. Something was wrong.

Jason would rather set himself on fire than willingly spend an evening under Bruce’s roof. He was being too… not-Jason. Polite, even. Pleasant. 

Clone? Possibly. Cyborg? Wouldn’t be the first time. A mind-wiped doppelgänger sent to spy on the family?

Then it hit him.

He paused in growing horror…

Did he finally kill the Joker?

Was that why he was in a good mood?

Bruce stared at him. Jason just blinked back innocently, which only made it worse.

No, something was definitely wrong.

“He’s lying,” came a voice from the doorway, smooth and amused.

Dick entered, mug of tea in hand and an unbothered grin on his face. “It’s because everyone’s crashing at his place.”

Now that he mentioned it, the manor had been suspiciously quiet lately.

Bruce glanced between them. “Why?”

Jason froze, his posture stiffening like someone expecting a sniper shot. His eyes flicked to Dick, silently warning him to shut up.

Dick, of course, did not. If anything, his grin widened.

Bruce’s gaze sharpened. “Why?” he repeated.

Jason shot Dick a glare, the kind that promised swift and bloody vengeance, but the little shit was immune. He grinned wider, practically radiating delight.

“Oh, because of his girlfriend,” Dick said, drawing out the word with far too much delight.

It had been unspoken—agreed upon, even—that whatever chaos was unfolding at Jason’s apartment stayed there. The last thing he needed was his personal life dragged into the manor spotlight and have Bruce interrogating his girlfriend. He was already hanging on to his sanity by the thinnest of threads.

But Dick had two fatal weaknesses: an insatiable love for family bonding… and a disturbing amount of joy in watching Jason suffer.

“You should see him at home,” Dick went on, far too pleased with himself. “Total domestic bliss. Folding laundry. Cooking dinner. It’s like watching a lion try to do ballet.”

“Shut the fuck up, dickhead,” Jason snapped, his voice a low snarl.

Bruce paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a Batarang.

Very slowly—deliberately—Bruce looked up. His eyes locked on Jason.

Jason had a what?

Before anyone could speak, Alfred appeared beside Dick with the poise of a man who had seen war, death, and teenage Bruce Wayne at his most dramatic—and had emerged utterly unshaken.

“Master Jason is bringing her for dinner, of course,” Alfred said, smooth as ever, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Master Jason is not!” Jason barked, visibly horrified.

Alfred raised a brow. 

Finding out you’d been invited to dinner at Wayne Manor wasn’t exactly a shock. If anything, you’d been expecting it. Most of the family already knew you—had dropped by Jason’s place uninvited enough times that introductions were inevitable. It was only a matter of time before Bruce caught wind of your existence too.

What surprised you more was how not nervous you felt.

Jason, on the other hand, looked like he was mentally preparing for battle.

As the iron gates of Wayne Manor creaked open, you watched him through the passenger-side mirror. Your six-foot-two, weapons-grade boyfriend was pacing beside the car like a man about to face execution. His hair was a mess—freshly wrecked from his own anxious hands—and while the tousled look worked unfairly well for him, it didn’t do much to hide the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Just… don’t let them suck you into anything,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the universe. “Don’t be too funny. Or too smart.”

You arched a brow. “So… you want me to be dislikable?”

“What? No! I mean—maybe? I don’t know!” he snapped, throwing his arms up. “If you are, maybe they’ll finally stop showing up at my place uninvited. But I don’t want them to hate you either.”

He paused, then groaned. “God. Don’t mention cinnamon rolls. Damian’s still holding a grudge because I ate the last batch.”

You laughed. “Of course he is.”

Jason stopped pacing only long enough to glare at the front door like it personally offended him. “Just… don’t be nervous. We’ll be in and out. Quick and painless.”

You blinked slowly. “Jason. I’m not nervous. You’re the one spiraling.”

By this point, you weren’t even sure he realized what he was saying anymore. He was just venting aloud—burning nervous energy like a fuse inching toward a powder keg.

With a soft breath of amusement, you stepped into his path, catching his hand in yours before he could wear a trench into the manor’s immaculate brickwork.

“Babe,” you said, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’m fine. I got this. You’re the only one falling apart here.”

So you reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was brief—grounding—but it worked. His shoulders dropped an inch, the rigid line of his jaw easing ever so slightly.

When you pulled back, you were already smiling. You laced your fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Ready?” you asked.

Jason exhaled, long and slow, like he was about to walk into enemy territory. Which, for him, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Fuck no.”

Alfred greeted you at the door with the warmth of a man welcoming a long-lost friend.

“Miss Y/N,” he said, voice smooth with genuine affection. “We’re delighted to have you.”

You barely had time to smile before Damian appeared—materialized really—at your side.

“You’re sitting next to me.”

You blinked. “Hello to you too,” you said dryly.

He didn’t acknowledge it. His attention was already on the dining table as he pulled out a chair for you with the gravity of someone bestowing a great honour.

 “What? No! That’s my girlfriend, demon spawn.” Jason snapped. 

Damian didn’t even flinch. He turned to Jason with a droll look, sharp and effortless. “And I pity her for that fact every day.”

You muffled a snort behind your hand and slid gracefully into the offered seat.

“Thank you, Damian,” you said, smoothing your napkin onto your lap with a smirk. Then, with mock innocence, you patted the open chair on your other side. “There’s still one free spot left.”

Jason moved toward it—clearly ready to reclaim his territory—only for Dick to slide in smoothly at the last second.

“Y/N!” Dick beamed, overly bright, already leaning his elbow on the back of your chair like he belonged there.

Jason’s jaw ticked. “Oh no you don’t, Dickhead.”

With all the grace of a man well-versed in brotherly warfare, he hauled Dick up by the collar and dragged him out of the seat with zero ceremony.

“Hey!” Dick protested, arms flailing like a cat being relocated. But Jason was already dropping into the seat beside you, triumphant.

Dick slunk across the table with a wounded pout, muttering something about uncalled-for violence.

You raised a brow at your boyfriend. “You know we practically live together. You see me every day.”

Jason scowled. “So do these assholes. They break into my apartment every day.”

Damian arched a brow from your other side, utterly unbothered. “Careful, Todd. Green isn’t your color.”

Dinner was… everything Jason feared.

Tim asked how you two met—twice—just to watch Jason twitch with increasing irritation.

Stephanie demanded relationship details with the energy of a late-night talk show host, bouncing in her seat as she eagerly listened to answer her questions.

Cass watched you in silence, head tilted with a quiet, steady kind of approval. She didn’t need words. She’d already decided she liked you.

And Dick?

Dick was the worst.

He had a seemingly endless supply of Jason’s most humiliating childhood stories, and he recited them with theatrical flair, smirking each time your laughter made Jason’s eye twitch.

Meanwhile, Bruce sat at the head of the table like a statue carved from shadow and marble. He didn’t speak much—hardly at all, in fact—he mostly just watched. His gaze never drifted far from you, sharp and evaluating, like he was measuring you against an invisible checklist. Determining whether you were worthy of his son.

Eventually, between the second course and murmured side conversations, Bruce set down his glass with a soft clink against the china.

“Y/N.”

Jason stiffened like someone had pulled a gun on him. You felt it in the sharp shift of his knee against yours beneath the table. Without looking, you placed a calming hand there.

Jason’s fork paused mid-air. “Bruce…”

You didn’t flinch. You turned to meet his gaze, calmly. “Yes?”

Bruce didn’t blink. “You’ve been with Jason for how long?”

“Almost a year,” you answered easily. “Give or take a few near-death experiences.”

Dick leaned back in his chair with a grin. “That’s basically a vow renewal in this family.”

Bruce continued, tone even. “And you know.”

It wasn’t phrased like a question. You nodded anyway. “Didn’t take long.”

“You stayed.”

“I did.”

Jason muttered, “Why does this feel like a background check with extra judgment?”

Bruce studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “You’re aware of the risks.”

“I’ve had them explained,” you said dryly. “Repeatedly. With charts.”

Tim snorted into his drink. “Please tell me one of them was color-coded.”

“That was mine,” Damian muttered, arms crossed.

That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. It wasn’t often anyone got Damian’s seal of approval. 

Bruce went quiet for a moment, and the weight of his silence settled over the table. He studied you like a strategist surveying a battlefield.

Finally, he spoke. “You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly foolish.”

You shrugged, unbothered. “Probably both. It’s part of the application process, right?”

Cass smiled behind her teacup. Steph stared at you with wide, glittering eyes and whispered to Jason, “Marry her.”

At that, something flickered in Bruce’s expression—approval, maybe. Something harder to name. Something deeper.

He nodded once, almost to himself. “You’ll be here for Sunday dinners moving forward.”

Jason nearly choked on his drink. “Are you serious?”

You ignored him, smiling sweetly. “Of course.”

“Babe!”

You patted his thigh. “Ignore him. We’ll be there.”

Dick leaned over, grinning at Jason’s dramatics. “Wow. He likes her more than he likes you.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Which, of course, meant: yes.

After dinner, Alfred insisted on tea.

Damian insisted on sitting next to you again—claimed it was “for tactical proximity,” though he was clearly just making sure no one else got the seat first.

Stephanie suggested you move into the manor under the guise of “Jason’s health,” citing stress levels and his lack of basic nutrition, and how beneficial it would be for the two of you two live here. Cass offered you her bedroom if the “shoebox you’re living in” ever became unbearable. Tim asked if you could cook, already planning meal rotations. And Dick—of course—invited you to game night next week with a wink and a warning: “Lose to Damian at your own risk.”

Jason looked like he was developing a migraine.

He sat beside you on the long couch in the grand living room, shoulders hunched like a man awaiting trial. Laughter echoed around the walls—walls he used to call cold and empty. 

Now they rang with bickering, teasing, warmth.

You nudged him gently with your elbow, barely hiding your smile. “Still want to fake my death and move to the Alps?”

Jason glanced at you.

Then at Damian, practically glued to your side like an emotionally constipated barnacle.

Then at Tim, who was deep in concentration trying to download your favorite show onto the Batcomputer, muttering about file formats and codec errors.

Then at Bruce—stoic, silent Bruce—watching his family with a small, unmistakable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason sighed. A long, suffering sound, that was too dramatic to be sincere.

“…Yes.”

← Previous Chapter

Tag list: @stormz369, @gothamhappiness, @remmyswritings, @dominazina, @nicverse, @roastyyytoastyyy, @sunnyfield, @snowy-violets, @sh0jun, @chicarandom11, @oooof-ifellforyou, @esposadomd, @bmyva1entine, @salvatt1, @ghost-candyyy, @sofiafantasies, @leogf

[paucubarsisimp]

surprise gone wrong pt.2 (alternate ending)

pairings: oscar piastri x reader, ex!lando norris x reader

summary: in which you move on... with his teammate

warnings: mentions of cheating

a/n: so oscar didn't actually win the poll but i didn't actually agree with lando since he did cheat and cheating is not okay!! so i decided to make this and the lando one.

prev || alt ending

it was nearly a week before you heard from him.

a message. a simple text. just his name at the top of the screen. but the seconds before you opened it felt like hours. and when you saw the words, a bitter chuckle escaped you. "can we talk?"

no. you didn’t want to talk. not yet. maybe not ever.

but you couldn’t ignore it. not completely. you were still tangled up in him, in what you thought you had with him, even though the wound was fresh. so, you replied, terse but polite, "what do you want to talk about?"

the response came quickly: "i’m sorry. i messed up. i need to explain."

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you didn’t want to hear his explanation. you didn’t want to hear anything that might make you feel like it was still salvageable.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the message either. you stared at it, fingers frozen on your phone, mind a mess of conflicting thoughts.

you couldn’t keep living in the past, though. you couldn’t keep waiting for someone who no longer seemed to care. so, you didn’t answer. you left him on read, and for the first time, that felt like a small victory.

instead, you’d been finding solace elsewhere.

oscar had been there. quiet, patient, and understanding. he didn’t ask questions about what had happened in melbourne or why you’d gone there in the first place. he just let you be. he shared your silence, your grief. sometimes, he would crack a joke to lighten the mood, but he never pushed. and when you finally let your walls crumble, when you finally talked about lando—about the heartbreak, the betrayal, the way it felt to be forgotten—oscar just listened. without judgment. without expectation.

the two of you started spending more time together. at first, it was just small outings. a quiet coffee here. a walk around the city there. oscar didn’t rush anything, didn’t ask you to open up faster than you could handle. it was a slow burn. but somehow, in the midst of the heartache, he became a constant presence.

oscar was different. he had a steadiness about him. the kind of calm that made the world feel less chaotic when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. when you’d spent so much time looking at lando, trying to understand him, trying to hold onto a love that wasn’t meant to be, oscar made you see that maybe there was something else. something real.

it wasn’t love. not yet. but it was something that felt more like a foundation. and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were drowning.

but even with oscar’s quiet support, you still couldn’t escape the shadows of your past with lando.

the moment you ran into him again—at an event oscar had invited you to—it felt like the earth shifted under your feet. you had barely even expected to see him. the gala was supposed to be a night for celebration, for oscar’s achievements, but it was hard to ignore the uneasy feeling when lando walked into the room.

he wasn’t the same as he was in melbourne, his eyes searching for someone—maybe you, maybe anyone who could make him feel whole again. you didn’t want to look at him, but he found you, anyway. there he was, across the room, eyes wide as he locked onto yours. it was like a magnet pulling at your chest, dragging you back to a place you couldn’t afford to visit again.

you felt your breath catch, just for a second, before you reminded yourself that you weren’t that person anymore.

oscar, sensing the shift in your mood, slid his hand gently over your back, offering comfort without a word. the touch, the steadiness of him, helped you hold it together.

“do you want to go?” oscar asked quietly.

you shook your head, forcing a smile. “no. i’m fine.”

oscar’s grip tightened just a fraction, and you knew he was only asking out of care. he wasn’t pushing you, but he could tell the air between you and lando was thick. but instead of shying away, you stood your ground. you weren’t running from him anymore.

lando, sensing your resolve, slowly made his way over, his expression unreadable. when he reached you, he paused, his gaze flicking between you and oscar.

“hey,” lando said, his voice quieter than you remembered. “can we talk?”

oscar’s hand didn’t leave your back, a silent protector, a reminder that you didn’t have to do this alone. you wanted to tell lando that there was nothing left to talk about. that the time for explanations had passed. that the person he had kissed on that rooftop was a reminder of just how little you mattered.

but instead, you looked at him, emotion swirling within you, threatening to choke you. “what is there to talk about, lando?” you forced the words out, cold and sharp. “you already made your choice.”

he flinched, and it cut deeper than you intended. but it didn’t matter. you weren’t the one who needed to apologize.

his voice faltered, guilt and regret swimming in his eyes. “i never meant for it to happen like this. i—I thought you weren’t coming, and i was confused…”

“you were confused?” you repeated, your laugh bitter, hollow. “you thought i wasn’t coming? what was i supposed to think, lando? you kissed her like it was nothing. like i wasn’t even real.”

oscar’s hand slid from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent show of solidarity. you squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his presence.

lando’s face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you saw a flash of the man you used to love. but it was fleeting, and the ache of that realization only made your heart feel heavier.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “i should’ve waited. i should’ve told you what was going on. i should’ve…” he trailed off, looking helpless.

but you didn’t need his apologies. not anymore.

“no, you shouldn’t have. you shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place,” you said, your voice steady, but the pain in your chest was real. “i don’t need your excuses. i just need you to understand that i’m done.”

there was no satisfaction in the words. no catharsis. you just felt… empty.

oscar’s grip on your hand tightened. you could feel the quiet support, the strength in his quiet presence. and you realized then that he wasn’t just offering comfort. he was offering a future. a future that lando couldn’t be a part of.

“come on,” oscar said, giving your hand a gentle tug. “let’s get some air.”

you turned away from lando, walking with oscar toward the door. there was a lump in your throat, but you held your head high. you didn’t look back. not even once. you had no need to.

oscar’s soft chuckle broke the silence as you stepped outside, the cool night air feeling like a welcome balm against the heaviness that had been suffocating you inside.

“guess i’ll have to fight for your attention now, huh?” he said, his voice playful, but there was a warmth there that you hadn’t realized you needed.

you smiled, just a little. “i think you’re already winning.”

oscar stopped walking for a moment, his hand gently brushing your hair from your face. when his eyes met yours, there was something there that wasn’t just friendship. something new. something real.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. you believed in the future, in the possibility of moving on.

“i’m here,” he said softly, his voice a promise.

and this time, you didn’t feel the need to look back at the past. because with oscar by your side, the future was already beginning.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @oddends, @mimisweetz, @theselilwonders, @superlegend216, @shigarika, @executioner-s, @fastandcurious16, @landofotographyy, @star73807-blog, @staple-your-mouth, @milkysoop, @ashopeworld, @ilovemeni, @shininfate, (i hope i got everyone!)

[bunnipuffs]

requesting for dark!pervy!Ellie who is friends with fem!reader

at first, Ellie is being the sweet and caring friend (holding reader’s bags when going out shopping, paying for things, taking care of reader, girlfriendy behavior without being gfs)

then slowly overstepping boundaries b/c Ellie is slowly revealing her true colors (becoming touchy and clingy, acting jealous, being controlling, degrade&belittle reader to hurt her feelings)

hopefully this could spark some ideas if you’re comfy with writing this <3 can be sfw and nsfw hehe ^3^

oh my god YUUMMMMYYYY thank you for this anon i actually just went dizzy at the thought of this mmmmm so yum ……… THANK YOU !!!!!!! <3<3<3 enjoy !!! (✿◠‿◠)

⋆˙⟡ dark! pervy! ellie who’s so sweet to you, days of seemingly endless love and care. your head is filled with flowers and all things pretty until one day, it’s not.

♡ . — ꒰ sfw ꒱

ellie who always makes sure you’re fed. your messages from her mostly consist of her asking if you ate, and if you even tried to step around it, “i did! had a little snack <3 thanks els” you’d still receive a knock at your door—your favorite meal and drink in ellie’s hands. she gets a little cranky when you say “snack,” she knows for a fact that you didn’t eat properly. there’s no way around it! ellie just wants you to be full and energized for the day.

ellie who immediately takes out her card when you complain about not having enough money for something. whether it’s something as small as a cute keychain, a sweater, or hell, even a $200 purse, she’s faster than you are. you already hear the loud beep! of it going through, ellie grabbing your shopping bags before she lets you drag her to the next store over. your arms are wrapped around her bicep tightly, repeating a sweet “thank you!” over and over again.

ellie who’s at your apartment as soon as she hears your nasally voice over the phone. she has a plastic bag full of medicine and spends her time in your kitchen making you a nice warm meal, spoon-feeding you and sitting right by your side as she hands you a water bottle with a pill to take for your illness. she’s patting your head and telling you “good job,” before she tucks you in, cleaning up your apartment while you sleep. she doesn’t even think about leaving until you’re better!

ellie who looks at you with something indescribable when you tell her that you met someone while you were working, and planned on hanging out with them at the local cafe. she asks you a lot of questions, who? where do they live? what do they look like? it’s not long before it slowly progresses into questions like what’d they say to you? is that them texting you right now? why are they bothering you so much? you often catch a glimpse of ellie’s head whipping towards your phone when it dings, her eyes glued onto your screen.

ellie who sits right behind you at said local cafe, on the day that you and that “friend” planned to go out. a black hoodie on and funny-looking sunglasses to pair, she’s stirring a cup of coffee (she didn’t even like coffee) while she listens to you laugh and giggle like you did with her. what the fuck was so funny? she thinks, she feels something boiling beneath her skin. it didn’t sit right with her that you were spending your precious time with someone so undeserving. she should’ve been sat across you, watching your eyes crinkle and your pretty lips sip at your beloved drink. you and ellie had been to this cafe a hundred times by now, and it grew something dangerous in her stomach knowing that someone else had taken her place.

ellie who blankly stares at you when you show her your outfit for the next hangout, you’re leaving in a few minutes, smiling and twirling in front of the mirror. you’re wearing a cute little skirt, a nice frilly blouse for your top. your makeup is done perfectly and you gush about how you’ve made a good friend, that they enjoy the same things as you, and the fact that they think you’re pretty. ellie finally snaps at that, a mean scoff leaving her lips. you flinch at the sound—ellie had never done that with you. “i wouldn’t be so happy, honestly, i mean..” ellie comes up behind you, her hand trailing down to the end of your skirt. it’s short, and ellie lifts it just enough, exposing bits of your bare thigh. “i love it, but, what if they think you’re a whore? dressed like that?” she continues, letting go of the fabric.

ellie who feels pure satisfaction blooming in her chest when your smile fades away, you nod in response, not saying anything. a whore? you didn’t want that. your eyes are teary at the insult, lip trembling, before you make your way to your dresser. you fish out a pair of jeans, pulling your skirt off in front of ellie. she quickly snaps a picture of you before you’re all dressed up again. you keep facing your old wooden dresser, looking at the chips and dents. you’re afraid of ellie seeing you cry. but she knows you are, and she’s suddenly pulling you into her arms and rubbing your back, soft cries pulled from your throat. she hums into your hair, “awh, c’mon, don’t cry. y’know i’m just looking out for you, right?” you can’t feel the grin pressed against you, ellie cooing when you hiccup. “don’t wanna ruin your pretty makeup, so stop crying.”

ellie who is more than pleased to know that you haven’t been wearing your skirts around them anymore, and she feels even better when you suddenly receive a photo from an unknown number—a picture of you, asleep in only your panties and a tank top, your leg over a pillow exposing your ass and legs. you feel bile rise in your throat when you open it. who? but ellie always has an answer to your problems, and she advises you not to speak to your “good” friend anymore. your head is in ellie’s lap, pink cheeks stained with tears while she gently runs her fingers through your hair. “it’s really weird that this happened when you met, i don’t think it’s a good idea to talk to them anymore..” you didn’t question how they had found your apartment, or even how they got in. but you’d never know that ellie had been the one to sneak into your apartment. you had given her an emergency key if anything had happened since you lived alone, and ellie had never used it before. but ellie was getting tired of hearing about this loser, and she quietly walked into your room late at night, pulled out her phone and took a picture of you. unconscious and vulnerable. the best part was that you would never accuse her of something like that. you trusted ellie, she wouldn’t do that to you.

♡ . — ꒰ nsfw ꒱

ellie who asks for your phone from time to time, looking through your messages and buying you ice cream when she doesn’t see anyone new lingering in your inbox. she waits till you’re distracted doing something else, cleaning your living room, your kitchen, organizing clothes, before she looks through your gallery and sends herself your selfies and other… pictures you’ve taken. she quickly opens up her phone to save them before deleting them on your end. they weren’t nudes, but some of them made ellie sticky in her boxers, a particular photo of you with your tongue out and wearing your favorite pajama set. she thinks about using your mouth to get herself off, groaning at the thought of your lips covered in her arousal.

ellie who uses the secret pictures she’s taken of you to masturbate, the one of you asleep her favorite one by far. she’s cumming at the thought of your pretty face crying when she called you a whore, your glossy eyes when you received that picture of you unconscious, she doesn’t even really need the picture at this point—but it makes her even hornier that you’re so naive. she likes the reminder of her influence on you, how easy you believed her. she’s gritting out your name when she makes a mess all over her pillow, imagining it as your body.

ellie who takes you out for another mall date as usual, she lets you wear anything you want around her—but you’ve noticed that every time you’re wearing a skirt, ellie’s hands brush against your ass for a second, and it seems to be happening more and more. she gives you a sheepish smile and apologizes, “i’m walking too close, i wasn’t paying attention,” but you can’t see her behind you, you can’t see her eyes fixated on your plump ass peaking from beneath the fabric, calculated touches on ellie’s end. you start ignoring it when you realize it just keeps happening, maybe she really is just doing it by accident. she’s holding a lot of bags, and there’s a lot of people. it gets distracting inside of a packed mall!

ellie who gets a little too touchy one night. she’s staying over at your apartment again since you felt paranoid about someone sneaking in, and you’re fast asleep in her arms almost immediately. ellie tucks a stray loose of hair behind your ear, your warm breaths against her tattooed arm. she doesn’t realize her hand is already slowly drifting down your chest, a finger gently tugging down your top to reveal your nipple. she brushes over it, carefully, the bud hardening at her touch. ellie lets out a small noise seeing it, wanting nothing more than to lick at it, bite until it’s all sore. she quickly fixes your clothing when you shuffle in her grasp, her heart pounding against her chest. she hopes it doesn’t wake you up.

ellie who peeks into your bathroom while you’re showering. you’ve recently kept the door open while you did your business because you were anxious, and ellie needed to get to you in time if something happened. ellie does her best to see you through the glass, your blurry naked figure moving around as you rinse yourself off. she can’t make out your face at all, but she can see the outline of you, your perky tits, the dips of your hip, she can faintly see your ass as you grab and smooth over it with soap. ellie’s slipping a hand down her pants while she stares, playing with herself as she continues looking at you. she’s moaning softly against the edge of the door, circling her clit in fast circles. she didn’t have the time to drag it out like she usually did, edging herself to pictures of you or your sleeping face next to her. you were going to be done soon—and ellie cums as soon as you’re groping your tits, washing innocently.

ellie who tells you to quit your job. she can’t risk you meeting someone else, and she’d have to go through that same process all over again. you were stupid to believe her the first time, but a second? you’d obviously pick up on something. ellie couldn’t have that. she tells you “i’ve already been paying for everything, i might as well move in since i’m here all the time.” initially, you’re a bit worried. rent was expensive! your full time job wasn’t even cutting it, how would you both pay for rent if you couldn’t? but ellie quickly shushes you with her usual excuses, and eventually, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. ellie could protect you if something were to happen again. you quit your job and with a short notice to joel, ellie moves in the next week.

ellie who can’t help but kiss you when you’re sleeping. it’s only the third night of you both living together, but your lips are right there, right in front of her, and all the restraint in her body had left a long time ago—she’s pressing wet kisses to your mouth, her tongue licking at your lips. all over it, disgustingly so, but you’re so sweet. ellie can’t get enough. she’s eventually pulling down your panties, her face buried in between your legs, licking feverishly at your pussy. you wake up to the stickiness between you, your eyes widening when you see your best friend below you. she’s staring up at you without shame, like she was waiting for you to wake up. there’s something dark swimming in her eyes, and she doesn’t stop even when you’re thrashing under her hold. her hands are pinning your thighs to your bed, her tongue making it’s way into your hole. you’re far too deep to fight back, the drowsiness of sleep and the unbearable heat in your cunt hard to push away. “come for me first, i’ll stop then—please, i need it,” you try to respond, but her fingers find your clit and she’s rubbing you so good that it makes you squirt all over her tongue, your slick coating her slender fingers. you’re panting heavily, chest aching with how desperately you’re trying to catch air, and ellie is suddenly hovering right above you. she presses a kiss to your forehead, gentle and loving, unlike her a few moments ago. “i’m all you need, okay? just me, say it, please.” you gulp, the familiar feeling of fear spreading in your chest. you stare back up at her with those teary eyes she loved, “you’re all i need, els.”

[screamlet]

♞: Caring for each other while ill

thank you for the prompt! have another 1.2k of fluff, this time set during the summer between s7/s8 when bucktommy was new and anything we wanted it to be, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

On a really good, horny day, Buck might be strong enough to haul Tommy off his living room floor and drop him on the couch. That's not one of those days, though: Buck is sick, Tommy is sick, and they might be better off dying together in each other's arms on the floor of the loft.

"I should just go home."

"Tommy, you fainted when you tried to put on a sock."

They're lying side-by-side on the floor of the loft; Tommy did try to put on a sock and faint, but Buck caught him before he shattered his skull on the floor. Once he had saved Tommy's life, he felt vertigo kick in and slowly lowered himself to the floor, too, where he and Tommy could lie together for the last 10-15 minutes of their lives.

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

Tommy flashes him a grin that makes Buck an even weaker puddle on the floor. Good thing he doesn't have to get up yet so he can lie here, watching Tommy order them Gatorade and popsicles and cold medicine, and try not to fall in love with him.

[just-nc-tea]

nine and three quarters pt. 3 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⭑.ᐟ Roommate to Lovers - Park Sunghoon Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

ᝰ genre. Figure skater!Sunghoon, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, SO MUCH FLUFF!!! FINALLY!!! ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, mentions of rape, mentions of date-rape-drugs, mentions of the police, panic attacks, eating disorder, psychologists .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ features. Mark, Johnny, Taeyong & Jungwoo from NCT, Woonyoung and Rei from IVE ᝰ word count. 25.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 1 --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Flowers.  There were flowers. You bought flowers. That was the first thing Sunghoon noticed when he came home after class a few days after the break ended. He dropped his bag onto one of the chairs in the kitchen and took two big steps towards the window. A small bouquet of purple flowers was standing in the vase he bought you at the market. The scent of the flowers was sweet and hardy, filling the kitchen.

The next thing he noticed was how full the kitchen was. The basket you used for fruit, which was standing on the kitchen table, was usually empty since fresh produce is quite expensive, but today it was filled to the brim with apples, bananas, mangos, and tangerines. The fridge was full of vegetables and two cartons of eggs.  He blinked into the fridge. This was a lot of food. You were barely able to eat a plate of eggs and cucumber, so why did you buy so much? How did you carry all of this upstairs? The elevator was still broken, and he had noticed that just walking up the 4 flights of stairs without a bag was already hard for you, so how did you…

“Sunghoon!” A warm palm clapped gently against his back, and Sunghoon turned with a quiet jolt. Mark was standing in front of him with a big grin adorning his face. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, a little breathless. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Mark shrugged with a smile, sitting down on a kitchen chair. “Y/N asked me to go to the market with her and I didn’t want her to carry all of the stuff alone, so I just came along.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing again at the overflowing fruit basket and the fridge. “This is a lot of food.” Mark laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I kinda went overboard. She let me pick up too much stuff. She said you two eat together sometimes, so I figured—why not get enough for both of you? Johnny and Taeyong gave her money for groceries anyway. I just made her spend it.”

Sunghoon gave a soft huff of laughter, eyes still on the fridge. “It’s just… a lot. She usually doesn’t—” “I know,” Mark cut in, voice softer now.  Sunghoon turned to look at him, but Mark’s gaze was fixed on the fruit basket. “She’s trying,” Mark said quietly. “But it helps when someone’s eating with her. Even if it’s just rice and cucumber. Even if she can’t finish everything. Just... not doing it alone makes it easier. So I thought maybe if we bought enough for the two of you, you could start cooking and eating together? I know you aren't really that close with Y/N, or well, I don't really know, Y/n and I haven't exactly been talking a lot, she was kinda avoiding us all. But I was hoping you could maybe just…help a bit.” Sunghoon swallowed thickly. He didn’t know you were avoiding your brother. He was wondering why Mark was never over. When he first met Mark, it seemed like you two spent a lot of time together. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to help.” “You are.” Mark looked up and met his eyes, serious for a moment. “She told you what’s happening. That’s big.” Sunghoon nodded. “I’ll cook with her.”

Mark smiled again, this time smaller. “That always worked when we were teens. Even if I was eating three servings of curry, and she was barely finishing her salad. It was still better.” Footsteps echoed down the hallway and both of them looked up just as you stepped into the kitchen, towel still around your neck and damp hair brushing your collarbone. You were wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts. He said nothing and tried to not react outwardly, but something fluttered low in his chest. Sometimes, when you had all the shirts you used as pyjamas in the wash, you took one of Sunghoon’s. He had so many shirts from training camps or competitions that were in his pyjama drawer that he didn’t really care if you stole one once in a while.  “Hey,” you said, blinking at the two of them. “You didn’t put the mangoes in the fridge?” “You didn’t say where you wanted them,” Mark shot back easily. “Cold mangoes are elite, and you know it.” You moved toward the fruit basket, pushing your towel back from your shoulders. Sunghoon moved a step to the side to let you open the fridge door.  As you opened the door, Mark’s eyes landed on the meal calendar you’d stuck on the fridge. His expression twisted into a grin.

“Are those the monkey stickers from Taeyong?” You froze. “Mark—” “Oh my god, you’re actually using them.” “They’re cute!” you defended, cheeks a little pink as you grabbed the sheet and stuck it to the fridge underneath Sunghoon’s new magnet from the aquarium in Busan. He was quite touched that you thought of him while you were at home. He imagined being home, visiting doctors, even if they were people you knew, wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do, and when you did something nice, you thought of him. He felt all giddy thinking about it. Mark laughed and threw his hands up. “You know what? You’re right. They are better than the strange dinosaurs Hyuck bought you. I am still haunted by the T Rex that had the head of another dinosaur in its mouth. You really didn’t have to use them.” “But Donghyuck Oppa bought them for me. And I didn’t want to be ungrateful.”, you huffed and leaned onto the counter next to Sunghoon. Your arms were touching, and it sent a warm sensation up his arm.  Then Sunghoon’s stomach grumbled. Loudly.

The sound broke through the room like a slapstick sound effect, and you both froze. Then slowly, so slowly,you turned to look at him. His ears turned pink immediately. “…I guess I’m hungry,” he admitted, voice sheepish. You blinked at him, something gentle dancing behind your eyes. Then, very softly you asked: “Do you want to eat?” There was a pause. Not a long one. Just long enough for him to meet your eyes and realize you weren’t just asking him if he was hungry. You were asking if he wanted to eat with you. Sunghoon swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Spaghetti?” Mark, silently watching from the other side of the kitchen, perked up. “You two want me to chop something?”

You nodded without looking away from Sunghoon. “Only if you’re okay staying a little longer.” Mark grinned. “I’m not moving unless you kick me out.” Sunghoon smiled too, just a little. “We could use the veggies for the sauce. One of my friend’s girlfriends makes a protein bolognese for Jake all the time. Like, shredded carrots and lentils with beef.” “I’ll get the cutting board.” You moved to the cabinet and started pulling out the dry pasta. Sunghoon turned on the stove, filled a pot with water, and placed it on the burner. “Hey, could I turn on some music?” Mark asked after he washed a bell pepper. “Sure.”, you hummed beside Sunghoon, who was busy cutting the beef he still had in the fridge. You looked up at Sunghoon. “Can we use your speaker?” you asked softly. “Yeah,” Sunghoon said, a little distracted as he trimmed the fat from the beef. “It’s on my desk.”

He blinked a second later, realizing what he’d just said. Wait. His room. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. Mark, hearing him, raised a brow but didn’t comment. Sunghoon had just started mentally cataloging the chaos in his room when you returned, speaker in hand, looking completely unbothered. You handed it to Mark. He blinked. “Did you… find it okay?” “Yeah. It was right where you said.” You nodded and just turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce.

Mark hooked up his phone, and music started playing—something upbeat and chill, some indie R&B track.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second longer. The soft sway of your hair, the way your head bobbed gently to the beat while you stirred. You looked calm and so soft. A strand of your hair was falling forward, and he had the impulse to tuck it behind your ear. Somehow, he really had a thing for your hair. Whenever you were watching TV together, he somehow had a strand of hair between his fingers.  He blinked and quickly looked away before either of you could catch him smiling.

────────────────────── Mark left after dinner and took the music with him.  You stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, drying a plate while Sunghoon rinsed the next one. He passed it to you without a word, hands brushing for the briefest second.  “Thanks for cooking,” you said softly, folding the towel around the plate. “That was really good.” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for helping. You ate a full portion.” Your eyes flicked up to his, surprised for a moment. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I did.” And then, with a little breath of something like pride, you turned and padded to the fridge.

Sunghoon watched as you peeled another monkey sticker from the sheet tucked into the side of the calendar and pressed it beside today’s date. It joined two others already in a row, little grinning faces in cartoon yellow. He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. His chest went warm, gentle, and a little achy. You glanced over your shoulder. “It’s kind of dumb, I know.” “It’s not,” he said quickly. You turned fully, arms crossed lightly over your front. The corners of your mouth twitched. “It’s a little dumb.” “It’s cute,” he corrected, flicking a bit of water off his fingers in your direction.  You huffed a quiet laugh, your gaze dropping for a second. 

Sunghoon picked up the last pan and scrubbed at it slowly, the tension in the room softening. The silence between you felt different now. Not awkward. He couldn’t really name the feeling, but he started to really like feeling like this. Comfortable.  You leaned next to him a few minutes later, hip brushing his. A little closer than you would’ve stood a few weeks ago. He liked that. “You want tea?” you asked. He turned to you. “Only if we drink it on the sofa and watch people get dramatic over nothing again.” You grinned. “It’s not nothing. Their friend literally faked a pregnancy and then ghosted the guy.” “Yeah, but like. He kind of deserved it.” You snorted and went to fill the kettle. Sunghoon turned back to the sink and finished the dishes. He didn’t say it yet. Not out loud. But he was proud of you. So proud he felt like his chest couldn’t quite contain it.

────────────────────── The sound of blades scraping against the ice echoed sharply and hollowly through the near-empty rink. Sunghoon skated to the barrier and braced his hands on it, chest heaving. His reflection in the plexiglass was sweaty, flushed and scowling. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t landed a clean jump all morning. Two weeks ago, he’d flown. His legs had been light, movements clean, choreography crisp.  Today he couldn’t even get through the first half of the routine. He slipped on a stupid step sequence and landed hard enough that his shoulder still ached. He pushed away from the barrier, gliding back to the center of the rink. His Coach wasn’t watching right now. He was yelling at one of the juniors on the other side. Sunghoon exhaled. Focus. The music started again, low and distant through the speakers. He took off, arms slicing through the air, each push of his skate a little too forceful. Too much. He turned into the first jump. And hit the ice again, hard. Flat on his side. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, clutching his elbow as the cold bled through his clothes. He stayed down for a second too long, his breath fogging up in front of his face. “What the hell is wrong with me,” he muttered, sitting up slowly. He could see a smear on the ice where he landed. His heart felt like it was rattling in his ribs. Anger, embarrassment, frustration. He pulled off his gloves, hands shaking slightly, and ran them over his face. The cold stung his skin. His eyes burned too. He climbed to his feet, teeth clenched. He didn’t know why he thought today would be better. ────────────────────── The figure skaters had cleared out half an hour ago. He could hear the ice hockey players in the rink's changing room. They would be out here in a few minutes. But Sunghoon didn’t move. He was sprawled on the ice, limbs spread in all directions, his chest rising and falling quickly. His program music played on repeat, louder now that the other skaters were gone. He barely twitched when a sharp hiss of skates sounded beside him, followed by a spray of snow that landed all over his glove. “Dude,” Heeseung’s voice rang out over him. “What happened to you?” Sunghoon blinked up at the ceiling. “I won’t pass the tryouts.” Heeseung stared down at him. “That’s funny,” he said flatly. “Because you said the exact same thing before Nationals and you second.” Sunghoon’s laugh was more of a groan. “Yeah, and I still don’t know how I pulled that off.” Heeseung crouched beside him on the ice, propped on the butt of his stick, brows raised. “Are you falling again or just giving up entirely?”

Sunghoon didn’t move. Just sighed and stared at the rafters overhead. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t land anything today. It’s like my body forgot what edges are.” Heeseung let out a low whistle. “I didn't know you're that dramatic.” “I’m serious,” Sunghoon muttered. “Tryouts are in two weeks, and I can’t even make it through one clean run. I barely made it through the warm-up jumps today. What if I already peaked?” “You said the same thing before Nationals.” “Yeah, and maybe I did peak there. Maybe that was it. My fluke moment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes. “You always say that. Then you pull a quad out of nowhere and land it like it’s nothing. Maybe you're just stressed. I mean the Olympic team is crazy. I would be stressed.” Sunghoon finally sat up, resting his arms on his knees. His gloves were wet from the ice, fingertips numb. “I am stressed, but I was stressed before the nationals too,” he said, quieter. “But it was different. I was worried about Y/N. And now she’s doing better. She’s eating. There’s a monkey sticker on that stupid meal calendar every single day. Sometimes even two. So I shouldn’t feel like this anymore.” Heeseung studied him for a second. “But you still do?” Sunghoon looked away. “I guess. It’s not her. She’s fine. I’m just… off.” Heeseung didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, softly, “You sure it’s not still her?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. “I’m not—no. I can’t—she’s my roommate, Heeseung.” Heeseung shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you don’t care. You’re just not used to caring this much about someone off the ice.” “I care about you,” Sunghoon shot back defensively “Yeah,” Heeseung deadpanned, “but you don’t glue monkey stickers to a fridge for me.” Sunghoon’s ears went pink. “I’m just saying,” Heeseung went on, “You’re still you, Hoon. Just… someone else has your whole focus now. Someone who glues Monkey stickers to calendars.” Sunghoon didn’t answer. Not because he disagreed. But because he didn’t know how to say that the idea scared him just as much as it warmed him. He picked at the edge of his skate and stood. “Tryouts are in two weeks.” “And if you play your cards right, monkey stickers are forever,” Heeseung grinned, skating backward. “Shut up.”

──────────────────────

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon finally stepped inside.

He dropped his bag quietly by the door, the soft clink of his keys the only sound in the quiet. He slipped off his shoes and let the door close behind him with a soft thud. It was close to midnight. You were asleep. Probably. Sunghoon padded into the kitchen on socked feet. He felt a little sore from the extra reps and the weight session in the gym. He'd showered at the rink, taken a half-hour nap on the office couch while Heeseung’s girlfriend typed away at her computer. Sunghoon really liked her. Heeseung and her have been dating for almost a year now. When he first met her, she was sitting in a wheelchair. Heeseung told him that she had gone through several surgeries after a car crash when she was younger.  The crash cut her career short.  He often had to think about that. How sometimes he wished he had a reason to just stop skating and get a normal job, have normal hobbies, but he also saw the way Heeseung’s girlfriend looked at the ice, with so much longing, it made his heart heavy.  The kitchen was cool, the scent of whatever you ate for dinner was still faint in the air. The sink held one plate and a fork, rinsed off neatly. His eyes went to the fridge without thinking. To today’s date.  A shiny monkey sticker was pressed next to it. Not one, but two. He smiled slightly. You must’ve had a good day. Sunghoon walked over and pressed the tip of his finger to the little monkey face. The sticker crinkled slightly under his touch. There was a note, too. Scrawled quickly, in your handwriting, on a Post-it note just under the sticker. "Spaghetti with mushrooms and carrots, and that protein powder. Bon appétit!" He huffed a quiet laugh, even as something tugged tight in his chest. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over the corner of the sticky note. Sunghoon heated the rest of the pasta you'd portioned out for him, plating it carefully despite the hour. He sat down at the kitchen table with it, elbows on the wood, bare feet tucked up under the chair. A part of him wanted to go peek into your room just to see you. But he didn’t. He sat in the kitchen eating his dinner, letting his heart slow, his breath even out, his shoulders finally drop.

────────────────────── You were in a good mood when you left the house. The sun had been out when you stepped onto the pavement. You’d remembered to bring your water bottle and the playlist you’d put on during the bus ride was perfect for the mood outside. Even your coffee hadn’t tasted like dirt. You slipped into your lecture seat and pulled out your sketchbook. You’d started your last assignment over, more organized this time, cleaner. It felt nice to look at your own work and not instantly hate it. And for once, you weren’t behind. Not truly. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Sunghoon: Y/N do you want new stickers?  Daiso has cute ones rn Im gonna bu them even if yo say no buy* you* sorry i was rushing a bit. 

You smiled. Today made it twelve days in a row. You’ve used almost all of the monkeys. And honestly? You were kind of proud of that. The stickers made it feel like you did something, even on the days you were just eating plain rice and steamed broccoli. You were up to almost 1000 kcal a day now, pushing toward 1100 kcal. Taeyong had sent you new stickers in the mail, cats, and you’d shown them to Sunghoon like they were the best thing he had ever seen. He looked so happy. His face had lit up in this quiet, surprised way. You weren’t even sure if he knew how tired he looked lately. He’d been home late almost every night this week, his shoulders tense and a frown was living permanently between his brows. But when you pulled out the little cat sheet and told him you wanted to try eating just a bit more each day, he smiled so wide.  That thought carried you halfway through class. Until the professor flipped the slide and reminded everyone, “Final sketches are due on Tuesday. Don’t forget we moved the deadline up.” Tuesday? That was four days from now.  You stared at the slide for a second longer than necessary. Then you flipped back through your notes. You started the sketches. You had a clear idea, the concept was solid, and if you pulled a long night today and a longer one Saturday, you could do it. You didn’t have to work this weekend, and you’d already done your weekly session with Ten, which meant the next few days were yours. You could absolutely do this. Lately, things have been different.  You were different.  Bit by bit, like someone had found the dimmer switch on your brain and slowly started turning it back up. You hadn’t even realized how much the party had stuck with you. It wasn’t just the throwing up. It was the way your chest clenched when someone offered you food or drinks. The way you hated opening your inbox. The way you could cry over a spilled coffee, or absolutely nothing at all.

Ten had helped you with that.

You weren’t fixed after the first few sessions.  You were still tired. Still got this dull ache behind your eyes or your ribs some mornings. Still, sometimes whispered a quiet sorry to the mirror when your shirt hung too loose. But you were getting there. You were okay. And if you weren’t okay yet, you would be. You caught Renjun’s question a few beats late. “How’s your draft going?” You gave him a half-smile. “Good. I’m almost done.” Which wasn’t a lie. You would finish it. You knew you could. Because you’d done harder things already. You had done this in the first semester so often, this should be easy.

────────────────────── You were adjusting your grip on three oversized rolls of paper, trying not to let them knock into your knees, when you saw Sunghoon. Headphones on, walking with his shoulders slightly hunched. You brightened instinctively, smiling at him, but your smile dipped, just slightly, when he got close enough for you to see the set of his jaw. He looked… tired. And tense. Maybe even upset. You shifted your weight, hugging the paper tubes a little closer, and offered a quiet, “Hi.” His gaze flicked up. And like magic, it all softened. The furrow between his brows, the stiff set of his shoulders. He gave a small exhale, like just seeing you let out some of the tension. “Hey,” he said, low and tired, but warm. “What’s with all the… paper?” You let out a laugh. “I stayed in the studio after class. I’m doing a huge concept draft this weekend. Guess who’s pulling an all-nighter?” He eyed your supplies, then you. “Please don’t say you.” You bit your lip. “It’s due Tuesday, and I was kinda distracted during the break. But I think I can make it work. I have a plan.” He reached out and gently tugged one of the rolls from under your arm without a word. You didn’t stop him. Your fingers brushed his in the exchange, and your pulse jumped. The bus rolled up, brakes squealing slightly, and the two of you climbed on. You found a mostly empty seat toward the back and sank into it with a small sigh. The paper was bulky, and created a barrier between your legs and his. Still, your shoulders brushed. He didn’t move away. The ride started in silence. You were about to reach for your phone when Sunghoon spoke, voice quieter than usual. “I’m not skating well,” he said. You looked up, surprised at the sudden honesty. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know what happened. Two weeks ago, everything worked perfectly. I almost got a perfect score. And now it’s like my body forgot how to do everything. Every run-through ends with me on the ice. It’s… embarrassing.” You frowned, brows drawing together. “You think it was just luck that day?”

He gave a soft laugh, more bitter than amused. “Maybe. I don't know. I was really stressed in the weeks leading up to it. You know, with the party and everything. I was kinda busy worrying about you and didn't really worry about the nationals that much."

You didn’t answer right away. The bus rumbled around you. A neon sign from a passing corner shop spilled red light across the floor.

Your hands were resting in your lap. You stared at your fingers for a second.

You hadn’t hidden it. Not really. The skipped dinners, your barely touched plates. You knew you weren’t subtle.

You just didn’t know it had sat with him like that. 

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” He leaned his head back against the bus window, sighing. “You’re doing amazing. You've put those monkey stickers on the calendar every day for almost two weeks. Sometimes even two.”

You ducked your head, shy under the praise. “They’re cute. And I like making people proud.”

“You are,” he said softly. “I am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” you said quietly. “At the nationals. You were incredible. You had so much fun.”

Sunghoon turned to look at you then. His eyes were soft. Tired.

And maybe a little surprised.

“I don’t know how I did that,” he admitted. “And now I’m not sure I can do it again.”

You hesitated. Then, a little nervously:

“Do you… still worry? About me?”

There was no pause in his answer.

“Yeah.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to carry the strange warmth that bloomed under your skin. 

You wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Or maybe say thank you. Or maybe… both.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt his head tilt, his chin gently resting on the top of your head.

You froze for a heartbeat.

Then slowly, shyly, you let yourself lean into his side.

Just a little.

The bus bumped along, and the rolls of paper rolled slightly against your knees.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

“You will,” you whispered back. “But you don’t have to be right away.”

His hand brushed against yours for a second.

And neither of you moved away.

────────────────────── Your keys clinked softly as you unlocked the apartment door. The hallway light flickered to life, casting a warm, golden hue across the wooden floor. You slipped off your shoes, turning to look at Sunghoon, who was still moving slower than usual, dropping his bag by the door with a sigh.

You hesitated.

“…Are you hungry?” you asked gently.

He looked up at you with that unreadable expression of his. Not annoyed. Just...thinking.

Then he tilted his head. “Did you eat enough for a monkey?”

You blinked, caught off guard and then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No.”

He didn’t scold you, “Then… unspicy dakgalbi? From the place I always drag the guys to?”

Your eyes lit up immediately. “Oh? The one we ordered from a few weeks ago?”

He nodded. “They do extra cheese now.”

Your stomach actually rumbled a little at that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both perched on either side of the low sofa table. You sat cross-legged at the low table, sketchbook to your right.

Sunghoon was on the other side of the table, sleeves pushed up, his hair still damp from his shower. He passed you the tongs wordlessly, letting you serve yourself first. The cheese pulled in stretchy, stringy lines between the chicken pieces.

You quietly divided things up. One bowl for you. One for him.

When you finished cleaning the living room, you placed a sticker onto the calendar and held it up toward him with a tiny smile. You’d already picked out the sticker for tonight, a little orange cat holding a rice ball. 

“Tada!”

He squinted at the calendar and took a step closer, “The cat is cute. I am proud of you, Y/N. Look, even your little kitty is proud of you for eating so well.”

You laughed, cheeks a little warm.

The two of you returned to the living room. You had your legs tucked underneath you on the floor, one of the giant papers resting across the coffee table. The living room was dim except for the glow of the TV. The new drama you both half-followed played in the background. You had your pencil in one hand, your sleeve bunched in the other as you leaned over the page.

You didn’t even realize how quiet it had gotten until you looked up and found Sunghoon stretched out on the couch. One arm tucked under his head, hoodie soft and rumpled. His other hand rested over his stomach, rising and falling with each breath.

He wasn’t watching the drama. He was watching you.

You immediately felt the heat rise in your face.

“What?” you asked, trying not to smile.

He looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He didn’t argue.

You shook your head and looked back at your sketch. But your heart was still doing something weird. Something soft and fast at the same time.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

You weren’t sure when Sunghoon stopped watching the drama and started watching you again but you noticed when his eyes started slipping shut, his head slowly lolling to the side against the arm of the couch.

He insisted on keeping you company while you worked. 

Which, apparently, meant curling up on the couch behind you, one arm flung over a pillow like a makeshift hug, and promptly dozing off halfway through episode two.

Your pencil slipped from your hand somewhere around 3:30 a.m..Your first sketch was about 3/4 done, but your eyes were getting too heavy to shade anything right now. You stretched your legs out slowly, bones creaking, spine stiff from being hunched over the coffee table for hours and looked over your shoulder.

Sunghoon was still out cold. His hoodie had ridden up just slightly, revealing a sliver of his lower back. His mouth was parted in the tiniest way. 

You tried not to laugh as you reached over and touched his shoulder gently.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Sunghoon,” you said again, a little softer.

His eyes cracked open, all bleary and confused. “Huh.”

“You fell asleep.”

He made a tiny noise of protest and flopped further into the couch. “You’re loud.”

You laughed. “C’mon. Go to bed.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, then blinked blearily at you. “You wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said… before.” He rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand. “That you sleep better when someone’s there.”

You stared at him for a second. Something in your chest tugged, a quiet, strange warmth.

“I did say that,” you murmured. “Do you?”

He stilled. For a breath. Then said quietly, “Yeah.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The apartment was cold outside the blanket nest you’d built on the couch and on the floor, but his room was warm, dim with only the soft glow of his lamp in the corner. You slipped into his bed first, still in your hoodie and sweats, pulling the covers up as he turned off the hallway light and climbed in beside you.

You didn’t even think about where to lie. You just curled toward the same place you always seemed to find: his side, just beneath his collarbone, right over his heartbeat.

His arm came around you automatically.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then he whispered into your hair, voice rough with sleep, “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

You let out a breath. “Me too.”

Another beat.

“…Also. I’m never letting you work until 3:30 again.”

You smiled into his hoodie. “I don’t really think that’s possible.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, already asleep again. 

His breath, steady and warm, brushed over the crown of your head every few seconds in a lazy rise and fall.

After a few minutes you noticed a sound. 

Soft. Rhythmic. Not loud, but steady enough to be unmistakable.

Sunghoon was snoring.

Just lightly.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dare to.

And then – there it was again.

The faintest little snore. You stifled a smile into his hoodie.

You shifted a tiny bit, just enough to glance up at him.

His mouth was parted slightly, lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. He looked so different asleep. Softer. Younger, somehow.

You reached up slowly, brushed his hair off his forehead. He didn’t stir.

And then, quietly, you whispered, “Thank you.”

For the food. For the stickers. For staying up with you. For holding you like this.

The snore came again. You almost laughed.

────────────────────── At around 15 o’clock, they called his name for warm-ups, and he felt like walking toward a storm he couldn’t stop. He spent almost 5 hours in the rink at this point, watching other people skate and perform on a level that was Olympic.

Sunghoon knew.

The moment his skates hit the ice, he knew.

This wasn’t going to work.

His legs were already too tight. His lungs didn’t feel like they had room.

He ran through the motions anyway.

Went through the warm-up. 

But with every movement, he felt it tightening. His chest, his hands, the panic he’d been choking down for days.

When they called him out for his actual performance, he wasn’t even nervous anymore. Just…numb.

The music started. He pushed off.

And he fell.

Not dramatically. Just a slip, a wrong edge on a spin he could do blindfolded most days. His shoulder kissed the ice, and the sting of it went all the way to his ribs.

He got up.

He always got up.

But the rest of the routine blurred. He didn’t even know what he was doing by the end, only that he’d finished.

Bowed.

Skated off.

Not once did he look toward the seats.

Not once did he meet the eyes of his coach or the team watching from the tunnel.

He ripped off his gloves the moment the door to the rink closed behind him. Tugged at the zipper of his costume like it was suffocating him. Stormed past the lockers, past the benches, up into the viewer area.

You were sitting on a seat near the middle of the bleachers, your laptop balanced on your thighs, fingers curled gently around the stylus as you focused on the screen. Your hair was braided now.

Something about it made his throat go tight.

And then you looked up.

You didn’t ask if he was okay. You didn’t say anything right away. You just stood up and stepped in his direction.

Sunghoon didn’t even stop to think. His arms wrapped around you before any thought even formed. Tight and desperate.

He felt the first sting of tears when your hand touched the back of his neck. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair.

“I messed up,” he choked out. His throat felt like it was closing. “I knew I would. The second I stepped out. I just—”

“You looked beautiful,” you whispered, voice soft by his ear. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

His chest lurched.

“For going out there. Even if you knew.”

That broke a little sob out of him, and he buried his face in your hair.

You didn’t say ‘You never know what the judges think’ or ‘You weren’t that bad’.

You just held him.

“Thanks,” he whispered, lips brushing your hairline.

He stood there with you for a while, forehead resting against your shoulder, your hand moving slowly over the back of his costume–up, then down, and up again. 

Eventually, he stepped back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

“Do you wanna leave?” you asked gently.

He nodded, jaw clenched. His mouth was too dry to speak.

You packed up without another word, slipping your laptop into your tote and looping your jacket over your arm. You didn’t ask if he wanted to drive. You just walked beside him back to the car, shoulders almost brushing, quiet like you understood there wasn’t anything to say.

The drive started in silence.

He didn’t turn on the radio.

You didn’t try to fill the space.

But a little ways down the highway, you cracked the window open and let the breeze in. And then you kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the seat, twisting to face him slightly.

“Do you want a candy? I still have to eat some to earn a kitty. I have watermelon, apple, that weird Chinese one with the rabbit from Renjun or strawberry?” you asked.

He glanced at you, brows tugged together.

You were holding out a box filled with different-sized and colored candies.

He blinked. “Weird Chinese rabbit ones? That’s… weirdly specific.”

You gave him a small shrug. “It’s sweet. I figured you might need something nice.”

He took a piece.

It helped a little. Especially when he saw that you ate three pieces. 

After a while, you shifted again.

Your voice was quieter now. “I wish I could do something. I know I can’t fix it, but…”

“You being there helped,” he said, staring at the road ahead. “A lot.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“You know, if you don’t want to be alone tonight… you could crash in my room.”

He turned his head slightly, trying to read your expression. You looked a little shy, like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping.

“It’s just… it feels better with someone there,” you added. “You said that too, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in a bad way this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

You nodded. Then leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes.

He didn’t know if you were actually sleeping, but he let you rest anyway. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything else.

────────────────────── Sunghoon heard the faint clatter of a pan as he stepped out of the shower, towel still clutched around his hair. He padded down the hallway barefoot, his limbs heavy from the day, and found you in the kitchen, barefoot too, stirring something in a pan.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard him. “I’m making egg rice,” you said, voice still soft. “There were leftovers. And I put in a ridiculous amount of oil, I am sorry.”

He nodded, throat tight again. “Smells good.” You plated up the food and passed him a bowl. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until the first bite. The table was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Your foot bumped his once, then again, and instead of pulling back, you let it rest lightly against his.  Afterward, he watched you shuffle to the fridge, humming faintly as you peeled the backing off another little sticker. This one was a cat with a sleepy face. You smoothed it onto the day’s square on your meal calendar and painted a pair of ice skates next to it. Sometimes, if something special happened, you drew a small doodle next to the date. He didn’t feel like today deserved a doodle.  Sunghoon swallowed.  You smiled faintly to yourself, then turned toward him. “I’ll brush my teeth first.”

By the time he joined you in your room, the lights were low and the sheets were already pulled back. You scooted over without a word, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

He laid down beside you, on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow.

For a while, you didn’t talk.

Then he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do now.”

You shifted slightly, not away but towards him.

He stared at the ceiling. “The Olympics... that was always the goal. Since I was a kid. Everything’s been about that. Every second I didn’t spend skating, I spent thinking about skating. And now…” His voice faltered. “Now I’m just—I don’t know who I am if I’m not trying to get there.”

He felt you look at him before you said anything.

“You know,” you said, soft and slow, “you’re still young. There are so many other things to achieve. This isn’t the end.”

He let the words settle between you, watching shadows play across the ceiling.

“There’ll be another Olympics,” you continued, “another try. And even if not… there’s always something else, right? Something new. I think–I think that’s the part no one tells you when you’re a kid. How your dreams can change.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. They always made it sound like it’s one dream, one shot. Do or die.”

“But it’s not,” you whispered. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He turned his head to look at you, even though the room was too dark to see your face clearly. “What did you want to be? When you were a kid?”

You were quiet for a second, like the question caught you off guard. Then you chuckled softly. “Van Gogh. I used to think I’d become the next Van Gogh and travel the world to paint.”

He smiled. “That’s adorable. But I think Picasso would be more fitting for you, Y/Ncasso.”

“Shut up.” You nudged his foot under the blanket. “What about you? Always skating?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I was like five. I saw Yuzuru Hanyu win gold and thought he was magic. I wanted to be that.”

You shifted closer slightly, and he felt your breath against his neck.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be magic,” you said. “Just… enough.”

Something about the way you said it tugged at him. He turned his body toward you now, propping his head up just a bit on his arm.

“You are,” he said.

You went quiet again. 

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, voice soft, unsure if you wanted to keep on talking.

You were quiet for another beat, then you hummed. “Sometimes. Not often. It feels kind of… scary.”

He nodded slowly, even though you couldn’t see it.

“I always imagined mine very clearly,” he said. “Even when I was a kid. I’d make it big in skating, maybe get to coach later. Have a place near a the olympia park. A dog, or two. A supportive wife, who loves me. Whom i love back. And maybe… a daughter. I don’t know why, but I always pictured a daughter.”

He let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed by how much he was sharing. “Someone tiny who’d sit on my shoulders and call me her favorite person.”

Your silence stretched for a little too long. He turned his head.

When you did speak, your voice was quiet. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever have that.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened.

“Why?” he asked gently.

“I just… don’t think that’s in the cards for me. A family. Love like that.”

He wanted to say something immediately, but he waited. Let you say what you needed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you continued, not quite looking at him. “Not because I don’t want love,” you added quickly. “I do. I just… I think I’ll disappoint him."

His fingers curled slightly in the sheets.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you whispered, “if I’m just not enough.”

The words knocked the air out of him.

He sat up a little, his voice low but fierce. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“You are,” he said. “You’re more than enough.”

You looked away, eyes shining faintly in the darkness.

“I don’t want to be someone’s burden. When I relapse. When I can’t eat again or when I start hating myself again. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with that.”

Sunghoon felt the breath catch in his throat. His fingers flexed slightly against the sheets.

“Don’t say that,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re not a burden.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But I could be.”

“No,” he said again. “You could have bad days. Weeks. That’s not the same thing.”

You didn’t answer.

Sunghoon pushed up a little more, his face now just inches from yours, even in the dark.

“If someone really loves you… he’ll stay. He’ll help you when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”

He reached for your hand without thinking. 

“I don’t want to ruin someone’s life,” you whispered.

“You won’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “You’ll be part of it. And the right person will be lucky to have you in it.”

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers just once.

“You say that so easily.”

“I say it because it’s true.”

You didn’t speak after that. You just shifted closer, close enough that your foreheads nearly touched, close enough that he could feel the way your fingers curled slightly toward his.

He stayed awake for a while after that, listening to your breathing. Thinking about love. About disappointment. About the way you looked at him today like he hadn’t failed.

────────────────────── You saw the light pour through the tall windows of the studio, casting soft, slanted shadows across your desk. Someone’s model fell with a quiet clatter in the background. 

You saw your hands working, but your thoughts were still with Sunghoon.

It has been a few days since the tryouts. Sunghoon and you had been sleeping either in your or in his bed. Just to comfort each other. 

The step up in calories was hard. The bigger portions made your stomach upset, no matter what you ate and he was feeling a bit down. He didn’t go to the rink, instead coming home or to the studio, when you stayed longer. He and Renjun were getting along really well. 

You had to think about the softness in his voice when he talked about the future – about his daughter, his dogs, his house. The way he had said  he wanted a wife who he could love and who loved him like it was a given he would find someone like that. Like someone could love him so honestly, and he’d love them back just as deeply. You really believed that he would find such a girl. He deserved to be loved. Deeply. 

You remembered the way his fingers had curled around yours under the blanket.

You’re more than enough.

You saw the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he meant it.

You thought about how he stayed, even when it got bad.

You thought about how he asked if you’d eaten.

How he quietly cooked two portions when you hadn’t. How he let you talk when you needed to, and sat beside you when you couldn’t find the words.

Wasn’t that… what love was supposed to look like?

You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you ever would.

But if you ever let someone love you–really love you–you hoped Sunghoon was right. That they’d stay. That they’d hold on through the bad days. That you wouldn’t just become some slow-motion heartbreak in someone else's story.

Because right now… it almost felt like he was already doing it. Loving you in all the ways you didn’t know how to ask for, that you didn’t know how to give back.

And that thought made it hard to breathe in the best, scariest kind of way.

Your professor’s voice cut through the air.

“I hate to do this,” he said, and you already knew it was going to be bad, “but due to scheduling conflicts, the deadline for your final submissions has been moved up.”

You blinked.

“To next week.”

A collective groan spread across the room.. Someone cursed.

You looked around. Every table was covered in half-finished foam models, scattered tools, and messy sketches, yours included. No one was ready. Not really.

Your heart dropped, just a little.

You saw your own model–barely halfway there. The pieces didn’t fit right yet. Some parts still needed refining, carving, painting.

It wasn’t impossible. Not quite. You could stay all weekend. Pull a few all-nighters. If you mapped it out just right, you might be able to pull it off. You would have to bring your stuff back to your apartment, take over the kitchen for a few days. 

Your stomach sank anyway.

Because now you’d be tired. Because now dinner would be rushed. Because now the quiet bubble of comfort you’d made with Sunghoon would pop, even if just for a while.

You exhaled through your nose and refocused your attention. Grabbed your pencil. Sketched out the next adjustment.

You could still do this.

Sunghoon was making curry tonight.

You’d get your stupid kitty sticker and then draw a sad smiley next to it. 

────────────────────── Sunghoon saw you before he even heard the door shut.

You came in looking like a zombie. Bags digging into your shoulders, a roll of foam sticking out under one arm, your jacket halfway falling off, and your model clutched precariously in your hand. 

The look on your face said enough. 

He column’t remember seeing you like this, ever. He has seen many different facial expressions on you but he has never seen this one. Your mouth was tight and there was a crease in between your eyes. 

He stepped away from the stove. “Hey- wait, I’ll help- ”

“It’s okay,” you said, breathless, dropping your things by the shoe rack and then pressing a hand to your forehead. “My deadline’s been moved up. Again. A week earlier.”

He blinked. “Oh, shit.”

“Yup.” You weren’t even angry about it. Just exhausted. You gave him a fleeting smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll be out in a sec, just need to… change into not jeans. Or something.”

Then you disappeared into your room.

Sunghoon finished setting the table. Curry, rice, the salad you liked lately. Two bowls. Two glasses of water. The usual. He waited a few minutes. Then a few more.

You didn’t come out.

He stood up and made his way to your door, the polaroid of you with your name under it mirroring the one of him on his door. He knocked, gently. “Y/N? Food’s ready.”

You opened the door a minute later with the same drawn expression, hair tied up in a messy knot. You slid into your chair across from him and mumbled a quiet “thanks.”

But you didn’t eat.

Sunghoon watched you poke at the rice. Push the curry around. You were quiet so he started talking and told you about how Jay and Heeseung were invited to a gala for the new recruits of their teams and how they were panicking today. You barely reacted and only chuckled.

When he stood to clear the dishes, you looked up.

“Oh,” you murmured. “I’m so sorry- would you mind cleaning? I swear I’ll do it next week, I just-” You gestured vaguely toward your room, then vanished again before he could even nod.

Sunghoon blinked. “Okay…?”

He collected the bowls. Yours was still full.

His eyes flicked to the calendar. 

No sticker. 

You didn’t get out the sheet with the kitten and glued one onto it.

That was the first night in over two weeks there wasn’t one.

You didn’t eat. Not really. 

You also didn’t stop to get a snack from the fridge either. Usually you would eat a yogurt with berries after dinner. Not immediately after but you did prepare it immediately after. 

He washed up slowly, trying not to overthink it. But failed to do so. A part of him told himself you were tired. That it was just one night. But another part reminded him of the way your voice sounded when you were trying not to worry him.

Just tired.

That’s what you always said when you didn’t feel like eating before.

Hours passed. He showered. Got the laundry and folded his clothes. Worked on one of his essays. Brushed his teeth. 

At 11:42 p.m., he knocked on your door again holding a bowl with yogurt and mangos, voice muffled slightly through the wood.

“Y/N? Do you want a joghurt?”

No answer for a second. Then, softly, “Not really. Thank you though.”

He opened the door anyway.

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your bed on the floor, the model in front. In your right hand was a cutter and the other hand was holding a ruler, but they weren’t moving. They were just floating a few centimeters over the styrofoam. 

He walked over without a word and sat next to you. Your shoulder brushed his and you relaxed a bit. Letting your hands rest in your lap and looking at the small bowl Sunghoon was holding.

Then your head rested on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you said eventually. But your voice cracked a little at the end. “Just tired.”

Sunghoon nodded. 

Then he leaned closer and spoke gently. “Let’s eat something, mhm?”

You didn’t answer.

So he pulled you up.

Your hand slid into his. He held it without needing to say anything else.

He sat you down at the table, went to the fridge, and reheated a bowl of curry and rice in the microwave. It was a smaller portion that you were supposed to eat, but he figured you probably couldn’t really eat much. So he made sure there was at least something in your stomach. When he set the bowl and spoon in front of you, you glanced at it with tired eyes, then picked up the spoon.

You didn’t say anything. Just started eating slowly.

When you were halfway through the bowl, he asked, just as softly as before:

“Do you think you earned a kitty today?”

You paused mid-bite. The spoon hovered for a moment before you set it down gently. You didn’t look at him. You just shook your head once, small and quiet.

His chest tightened. It hurt to see you like this. 

You weren’t crying but you looked so upset.

But you were eating. Slowly. And he could work with that.

He just nodded his head a little and sat with you while you finished your bowl. 

Afterward, you helped rinse the plate. Even dried it. And then you returned to your room after muttering a “Thank you Sunghoon.”

He just smiled and watched you retreat into your room. Only to follow you a few seconds later. By the time he reached your door you were already sitting on the floor again. Sunghoon walked over quietly and crouched down beside you. His eyes scanned the mess of paper, foam board, tape, notes scribbled in pencil. Then he looked at you. 

“I’ll help you,” he said.

He grabbed the extra cutting board from the shelf under your table and started slicing the leftover foam you hadn’t touched yet into 1,3 cm thick stripes, like you told him. Sometimes you asked him to hold down corners for you when they curled up. 

By the time the clock on his phone read 3:47 AM, your hands had slowed down significantly.

The model looked more like a fancy opera now. 

He glanced at you.

You were blinking slowly, mouth slightly parted in a yawn.

“You should sleep,” he said softly.

You didn’t argue this time. “I should.”

He stood, offering his hand. You took it. Wobbled a little on your feet.

“Let’s sleep in my bed,” he hummed.

You mumbled something like “okay” and shuffled into the bathroom.

Sunghoon turned off the lights, checked the stove, and brushed the foam dust from his sweatpants. 

When he reached his room he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of you curled into his bed, on what has become your side. 

It looked like you’d been here for hours, even though it had only been minutes. The quietness in the room, the soft rhythm of your breath under the covers, made his chest feel tight again. Not from worry this time, but from something much warmer. 

He closed the door quietly behind him and tiptoed over to the bed. He didn’t want to wake you in case you fell asleep in the three minutes you were lying in his bed.

Sunghoon slowly climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and shifting closer to you. 

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from your face. You barely stirred, but a tiny little sigh slipped from your lips, and he smiled to himself.

“You good?” he whispered, careful not to startle you.

You mumbled something incoherent but soft, and adjusted your head to put it onto his chest.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly, not knowing what to say next. So, he just snuggled into his pillow.

────────────────────── You blinked awake slowly, the dull gray light of morning filtering through the blinds in Sunghoons room. Usually sleeping in the same bed as Sunghoon meant that you were sweating in the morning, but today you were feeling a bit cold. Your hand reached across the bed where Sunghoon should have been instinctively.

His side of the bed was no longer warm. You hand brushed over the soft duvet cover. 

It was strange, wasn’t it?

Feeling that someone was missing after waking up alone was not a thing you usually did. 

You know people complain about it, when their lovers slip out of the bed too early, leaving them alone in their shared bed. 

But Sunghoon wasn’t your lover. 

So why did it feel like that?

You sat up slowly, brushing hair from your face, the blanket slipped down your shoulders. It wasn’t like he disappeared. He was probably brushing his teeth or something. You dragged yourself out of bed, bare feet padding lightly against the floor.

The moment you cracked open your door, you were engulfed in a sweet smell. And a slightly burned smell.

You frowned, blinking toward the hallway, and then made your way into the kitchen.

Sunghoon was standing in front of the stove. His hair was standing up in different directions, the bleach damaged it enough to not fall softly unless he used the right hair care products. 

He was holding up a spatula and his phone at the same time, frowning at something on his phone. 

You leaned against the doorframe to the connected kitchen and living room, eyes flickering over the kitchen.

Your model was laying on the kitchen table. All of the tools and scraps and papers that were spread around on the floor in your room had been organized neatly on the table. Your laptop was charging on the kitchen island. Your pens lined up in a little row.

“Good morning Sunghoon”, you greeted him, your voice still rough from disuse.

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips when he turned around and you noticed the apron he had hanging around his front. He looked cute.

He turned around, startled, and blinked. “ Y/N. Morning.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you making pancakes?”

“They were supposed to be,” he said, flipping one that was definitely more black than brown. “You didn’t eat enough yesterday. So I’m bribing you.”

You walked forward, your feet freezing when you reached the tiled kitchen floor. “Bribing me with... questionable pancakes?”

“They’re not questionable,” he said. “They’re just... well-loved by the stove.”

You laughed softly and slipped into a chair at the table. The sight of your model, a little lopsided now that you weren’t looking at it in sleep-deprived haze, made your chest ache a bit again.

“Thank you Sunghoon.”, you said after a beat of silence. “For everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for everything you are doing.” 

He turned around, a soft smile adorning his lips. Your chest flustered a bit at the sight. “Always, Y/N. If you ever need help I’ll always be there to help. No matter if its slightly burned pancakes or your weird opera thing we are building together.”

Your eyes stung a bit and you had to break eye contact with him to not start crying.

He turned back around and cleared his voice slightly. “The others are coming over later. They want to help.” 

Your head lifted, a frown already forming between your brows. “Help? With the opera?”

He glanced over from the stove, eyebrows raised like he knew this reaction was coming. “Yeah.”

You blinked at him. “But… why? I didn’t–.”

Sunghoon flipped a pancake gently. “You don’t have to. They just want to do something. Jay, Jake, Heeseung… they all felt a little responsible. About the party. And everything after.”

You were quiet for a long moment. 

Somehow you felt touched. Really touched, in a way that made your throat tighten. And also a little ashamed.

How did you manage to be a burden to someone you barely knew. Why would they worry about you? Yes they invited you, but it wasn’t their fault it escalated like that. So why were they feeling bad about it. 

“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry,” you said softly.

Sunghoon turned again, his hands still holding the spatula. “I know you didn’t. But it’s okay if people care about you anyway.”

You looked away quickly, chest tight. “That doesn’t mean they should have to fix anything. Or help. I was just… not okay for a while. It’s not their problem.”

“They’re not trying to fix anything,” he said gently. “They just want to help now. In any way they can. If that means spending the afternoon cutting foam and toothpicks, that’s what they’ll do. Also—” he turned back to the stove with a quiet laugh, “—they think you’re cute.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

He hummed. “I quote: Sunghoon your roommate is so cute, I swear i want to put her in my pocket. Quote end.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, even if your face was burning. “Oh my god, who said that?”

Sunghoon just grinned and plated the last pancake. “Jake. He said you were so cute when we went to the nationals. You felt so bad for everyone that just looked minimalistically sad after getting off the ice. He wanted to pet your head.”

“Oh my god.”, you buried your face in your hands.

He placed the plate between you both on the kitchen counter, grabbing the Nutella with one hand and a butter knife with the other. “Sorry they’re not perfect,” he murmured. “Kind of questionable in terms of color.”

You stood up and walked over to the counter, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re not questionable. They’re just… well-loved by the stove.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, low and warm. He drizzled more Nutella on top, spreading it with way more care than necessary. “Alright. Chocolate makes everything better. Maybe we won’t taste the love too much with the Nutella on top.”

You picked up your fork, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. The pancakes were a little uneven, a bit too crisp at the edges.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything when you slowed down halfway through. He just offered you another bite every now and then, and when you accepted, he smiled without a word.

“I really mean it,” you whispered after a while, when the plate was nearly empty. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression soft and unreadable. Then he said, quietly, “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me stay. Let me help.”

Your eyes stung again. You glanced toward your model on the table and back to your plate. 

You didn’t know why he did all of this for you. You didn’t think you deserved it.

But it made your chest ache in the kindest way.

────────────────────── You and Sunghoon sat shoulder to shoulder at the table half an hour later. He passed you a glue stick without needing to be asked, and you handed him the little foam piece he’d marked earlier.

You were listening to a podcast, the only sound in the kitchen being the hosts voices and sounds of paper being cut. There were flecks of foam on his sleeve and your hair. Your knees bumped under the table more than once. 

You were just finishing the reinforcements on the roof when Sunghoon finished assembling the first tiny tree for your landscaping section. He looked more proud of it than he had of his last competition medal at the nationals.

“That’s actually so cute,” you murmured, leaning over to inspect it.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I'm naming it Gerald.”

You snorted. “Gerald looks very sturdy.”

Just as you repositioned the front wall, the doorbell rang.

You straightened, wiping your fingers on your pajama pants and giving Sunghoon a quick glance.

“That’s them,” he said, already heading to the door.

A moment later, you heard the greet Sunghoon and Jake walked into the kitchen holding up a tray of drinks from the cafe on the campus and a bag of baked goods. “Y/N! Good morning! We bought coffee and tea and those weird cookie croissants! ”

You stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to say. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, wringing your hands together. “Um… thank you for coming and the food. You really didn’t have to. I… I’m really sorry if—”

Jay cut you off with a wave of his hand, already moving toward the table where your model was set up. “Don’t apologize. We are here because we want to be..”

“Yeah,” Heeseung added, grinning as he peeked at the foam trees Sunghoon had started earlier. “This is fun. It’s like arts and crafts.”

Jay slung his hoodie over a chair and raised an eyebrow at you. “So. Where do we start?”

You stared at them for a second, something soft and confused blooming in your chest.

Sunghoon brushed past you, placing a gentle hand on your back as he nudged you back to your chair in front of the model. “We’ll show you. I can make banger trees but I need like 20 more and someone has to help me do that.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”, Jake said and dropped into the chair next to you.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and nodded, pulling out the extra materials you’d prepared earlier. “Okay. Um—Jay, can you help with the glueing? It’s a bit tricky, you have to hold the pieces for a few seconds until they set. You spray this stuff on, to like kinda immediately harden the glue. Someone has to cut the foil? I don’t know if i want to use it yet tho, we will have to try around a bit and-”

They listened to your explanations with surprising focus. Sunghoon switched the background noise from your true crime podcast you'd both barely been listening to, to a soft, upbeat playlist.

They started talking about something trivial but after a few minutes someone started complaining about the last match they played and they have been explaining the rules of ice hockey to you for the last fifteen minutes. 

“So basically you can crash into someone just because you feel like it and it’s okay?”, you asked, handing Sunghoon another strip of foam to hold up. 

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Sometimes. You should have seen Soobin. He was our captain until he graduated last semester and one of the best defense players we ever had.”

“Oh. That’s crazy.”, you said, nodding at the way the edge you and Sunghoon had just glued together. 

“Yeah. Crazy if you want to have a fifty-fifty chance to get a concussion each time you go onto the ice.”, Sunghoon huffed. 

“Sunghoon, I’m just saying,” Jake was saying as he carefully pressed together two model walls, “if you ever joined a hockey game, you’d cry the second someone shoved you.”

“I’ve literally skated through a concussion before,” Sunghoon replied, unfazed. “Try doing triple jumps with whiplash.”

“Triple jumps,” Jay snorted. “That’s just jumping in the same spot but fancier.”

You looked up from the hot glue gun. “I do think figure skating is harder? I mean if all you do is try not to die because someone slams you into a wall?”

Sunghoon smirked quietly. 

Jake gasped like you’d betrayed them. “Y/N! We do more than a figure skater. I might not be able to touch my toes but I must let you know that we have to strategize and you know work as a team and react as a team. Quickly.” 

“I still think ice skating is more impressive. It looks very elegant.”, you hummed.

Jay chuckled. “I think we look very graceful in our uniforms. At least we don’t have to wear glitter while skating, right Elsa.”

“Fuck off Jay,” Sunghoon muttered.

“I’m ruggedly graceful and elegant,” Jake said.

You giggled, caught between amusement and slight awe. “So… do you guys always argue about which is better?”

“Absolutely,” Heeseung said, handing you a fresh strip of cut foam. 

“It’s not a competition,” Sunghoon said under his breath. “Not one they’d win anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Jay sighed.

Heeseung looked at you. “You could come to a match if you wanted to.”

You raised a brow. “And then what? Watch you get pushed around and then decide if I enjoy ice hockey or ice skating more?”

They all looked at each other like that was exactly the idea.

“If Sunghoon goes to the next one, I'll come along,” you said, quieter now.

You felt Sunghoon glance over at you, his fingers stilling for a second on the model.

“I really don't want to go alone,” you added, more softly this time.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. But when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, eyes gentle, mouth tipped upward just enough to make your heart flutter.

“Okay,” he said, that same warmth in his voice he always got when talking just to you. “I’ll take you.”

────────────────────── An hour later Jay was standing in the kitchen chopping onions. He decided to cook steak and potatoes for the four of you, apparently craving it enough to spend half a fortune on meat. After a while the kitchen started to smell intensely like food. 

It didn’t smell bad,  but somehow your stomach was tightening up a bit at the smell. 

You glanced at the stove. 

“Jay?” you called gently.

He looked over immediately, knife still in hand.

“I think my stomach’s gonna hate me if I eat that much red meat,” you admitted, a little unsure. “I haven’t really had a lot of it lately.”

He blinked once, then shrugged. “Alright. Yours’ll be dry, no blood, as unred as possible. Would you like more potatoes instead?”

You stared at him for a second. “...Yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Gotchu,” he said simply, already turning back to the pan.

You sat back, feeling weirdly relieved. Just… okay, more potatoes it is.

Heeseung had taken over tree production by now and was giving each one increasingly ridiculous names, while Jake and Sunghoon were helping you with the decorative beams along the walls of the building. 

──────────────────────

When the other three left your apartment late in the afternoon your model was almost done. It was almost perfect and you had just a few things on your to do list to finish up. Which meant you could dedicate Sunday and Monday to drawing and working out the details. And get a healthy amount of sleep.  

The door clicked shut behind Heeseung, and the sudden quiet that followed felt strange. 

Sunghoon stretched and groaned when his back made a rather satisfying cracking 

You heard him plop down onto the sofa and turned around to a rather funny view. 

He had let himself drop over the backrest, one of his long legs was hooked over the backrest, along with one of his arms. The other arm was resting over his eyes and he groaned again: “Y/N I don’t get how you do this. My fingers hurt and my back feels like I sat for 80 years instead of 8 hours.” 

You laughed slightly. “I try to not work 8 hours in a row unusually but desperate situations demand drastic measures.” 

You hesitated for a second but stepped in front of the sofa. “I think I'm going to make a snack or something. You can nap and I’ll wake you when it’s done if you’d like?” Sunghoon just hummed and nodded.

So you padded slowly and quietly into the kitchen, rolling your shoulders out with a satisfying crack of your own before pulling open the fridge. There were still a few cherry tomatoes left, a cucumber, some bell pepper slices in a container from the day before, and the rest of the cream cheese dip Sunghoon liked. That would do.

You arranged it all with more care than you meant to, piling the sliced vegetables and a bit of fruit on a small plate and spooning a generous portion of the dip into a small bowl. When you were done, you stood in front of the calendar hanging on the fridge and carefully peeled one of the glossy cat stickers from the sheet. It was a grey tabby this time, curled up asleep. You pressed it down next to the date with a quiet smile.

You’d eaten today.

You’d eaten well today.

The steak had gone down with barely a protest from your stomach and stayed down. You weren’t quite sure how that had happened, but it had.

So you deserved your little cat sticker.

Sunghoon was still in the same ridiculous position when you came back. His mouth slightly open and he was snoring slightly. Completely wiped out from cutting and glueing some cardboard.

You didn’t want to wake him. So you set the plate carefully on the table in front of the sofa and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the bottom cushion. Your phone buzzed with a message from Johnny asking you how you were doing. You send him a selfie of you holding up a piece of bell pepper and sunghoons sleeping from behind you, telling him you had steak today. He replied with a selfie of Dukoo laying on his chest and Taeyong sleeping on his shoulder, his mouth wide open. You snickered quietly.

After a while you were bored by your phone, so you got up to get the book you were currently reading and your headphones from your room.

You were halfway through a chapter when fingers brushed through your hair. So light, so gentle, you almost thought you imagined it.

But then it happened again.

You turned your head slightly and looked up.

Sunghoon’s eyes had blinked open, still a little hazy with sleep. His hand was still resting lightly on the back of your head, tangled just barely in your hair, and when your eyes met, he didn’t pull it away.

He just gave you a tiny, sleepy smile and petted your hair again. 

A strand had come loose from your braid and he twirled it between his fingers.

You swallowed slowly, heart thudding louder than you liked. “You’re awake,” you said, barely a whisper.

He hummed, low in his chest, and his hand slipped a little lower, brushing behind your ear. “I felt you leave,” he murmured.

You didn’t move, fearing that he would stop playing with your hair if you did. 

“Did you eat?” he asked softly, finally glancing at the plate in front of you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just-just vegetables and fruit.”

His eyes flicked back to you. “Enough so you could put a kitty on the calendar?”

You nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah.”

He sat up a bit more, leaning forward slightly so his knees nudged your back. His voice was even softer now. “I’m so proud of you.”

You turned toward him at that, just enough to see him clearly. He looked so warm, hoodie slightly bunched at the collar, hair tousled from sleep. 

You swallowed and whispered a quiet “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes again so you went back to reading.

You didn’t hear him sit up behind you.

But you felt it when the warmth of his body shifted closer. The sofa cushion gave in under his weight as he slid down to sit beside you on the floor.

Your breath caught, just for a second, when your shoulder touched his.

He reached for the remote and a second later, the TV lit up the room in a soft blue glow. He switched channels to find KBS.

You glanced up. Sunghoon was lazily chewing a piece of carrot, reaching for another from the small plate you’d left on the table. Without looking at you, he nudged it a little closer to your side, silently offering.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips.

Sunghoon leaned back, propping one arm up behind him on the couch. And after a moment of hesitation you let yourself lean too. Your head found his shoulder, slow and soft, the way it always did now. His hoodie was warm, soft beneath your cheek, and smelled faintly like his perfume.

He didn’t move.

The low sound of the show played on. A laugh track. A bit of dialogue. But neither of you laughed. Neither of you spoke.

You felt him breathe.

You listened to the rhythm of it, right beneath your cheek.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

He shifted slightly, just barley. His head moved a bit and his temple brushed against your hair, his breath ghosting across your skin. You tilted your head instinctively, and suddenly you were looking at him.

He was already looking at you.

Your breath stuttered.

You froze.

You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself.

Then back to his eyes.

And again.

Your chest pulled tight.

His lips were parted slightly.

He didn’t look away when your gaze wandered back to his eyes.

You couldn’t stop the flicker of panic that swelled in your chest.

You turned your head slightly, just slightly, without really thinking about it. Your nose grazed his cheek.

And then he turned his head too. Slowly. Gently. His temple brushing yours as he moved.

Your foreheads touched.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

You closed your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

His fingers grazed your knee, just barely. You wanted to say something, to move, to...kiss him.

But your whole body locked up with nerves and want and a fear you couldn’t name.

So you didn’t.

You sat there.

Still.

Almost.

And then, after one long heartbeat, he leaned back the tiniest bit. Just enough for the space between you to widen again.

You opened your eyes.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

──────────────────────

After the episode ended Sunghoon stood up, slow and silent, his fingers brushing the blanket beside you. You stayed still, heart still racing in your chest. 

“Should we...” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what he meant. You nodded, your body slow to follow.

The quiet buzz of the TV filled the space between you as you both moved, soft-footed and wordless. He picked up the now-empty plate from the table. You turned off the lamp.

In the bathroom, you stood shoulder to shoulder while brushing your teeth. His elbow bumped yours lightly once, and you bumped him back, the corner of your lips curling around the toothbrush. You caught his eye in the mirror. He was winking at you.

His white hair almost reflected the harsh bathroom light, as it  softly fell over his eyes. The whole scene felt so domestic your heart was aching. 

You finished first. You washed your face and used the ridiculous amount of skin care products Sunoo insisted made your skin better. He gave you a lot of the stuff that didn't work for him and you were just accepting the free skincare.  

You lingered in the hallway for a second too long after brushing your teeth. The light behind you still hummed softly from the bathroom, casting your shadow long and thin across the floor. You expected Sunghoon to disappear into his room with a soft goodnight.

But he didn’t.

He paused in his doorway, hand resting lightly on the frame. Then he looked at you,not directly. His tired eyes flicked toward you. And then, with barely a movement, he tilted his head. A silent question without words.

You didn’t answer with words either.

You just followed.

Your steps were quiet as you crossed the space, the air between you charged in that gentle, quiet way. You slipped into his room, your hoodie sleeves tugged down over your hands. He let the door close behind you.

The room smelled distinctly like him.

He crawled into his bed, pulling the blanket back slowly as if giving you a moment to change your mind. But you didn’t. You slid in beside him, your shoulder brushing his briefly before you turned onto your side, facing the wall. 

You couldn’t handle sleeping on his chest today. Somehow the thought alone made your heart race. 

It shouldn’t. 

This was so wrong. 

Sunghoon was your roommate. 

During the episode of running man you had enough time to conclude that the racing of your heart and the desire to make him, especially him, proud was based on a crush. A very inappropriate crush on your very nice and hot and caring and sweet and attractive roommate.

A few seconds later, you felt the mattress shift behind you. He carefully adjusted behind you. Not touching you, but being close enough you felt the heat of his body though your hoodie.  

A quiet part of you ached just a little when he didn’t wrap himself around you, like he sometimes did on the sofa.

──────────────────────

You lay there for what felt like hours, eyes open in the quiet dark, watching the way the dim hallway light pooled faintly across the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Your thoughts were running wild and you didn’t know what to do.

So you rolled over.

Carefully. Slowly.

You didn’t even fully realize what you were doing until you were halfway into the movement, your hand lightly brushing the comforter between you.

He didn’t move.

So you went further, tucking your head gently onto his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.

Still nothing.

Just the quiet sound of his breathing. And then, after a beat–his arm moved.

Not abruptly. But his hand came up in a slow, sleepy motion and started tracing a soft pattern against your back.

Your chest felt too tight for this much softness.

"Were you asleep?" you whispered.

He made a small noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. "I was," he murmured. "But this is better."

You stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of his breath and the way his fingers still traced your back, up and down, in lazy, tender lines.

After a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’m so glad I moved.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you're here too,” you whispered. “But…”

You paused, already regretting saying anything. But you couldn’t stop. 

“But it must be kind of awful, right? Having to take care of me like this? We didn’t even know each other. I probably made everything way harder.”

His fingers stilled just for a second.

Then he exhaled, hand moving again. Slowly this time, his palm almost resting between your shoulder blades.

“Y/N,” he said, like he was saying your name to soothe you. “It’s not like that.”

You didn’t reply. 

You weren’t sure you could.

“I know it feels like you’re a burden sometimes,” he went on gently, “but I promise you-you're not. Not to me.”

You stared at the vague outline of his neck, blinking quickly. “I just… I don’t want to be someone people have to carry. I want to be someone people want around.”

He was quiet for a beat. You thought maybe he didn’t know how to respond.

But then his hand stopped moving entirely and slid around your back, anchoring you closer, just a little. Not too much. Just enough that your forehead nearly brushed his collarbone.

“I don’t feel like I’m carrying you,” he said. 

Your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could feel it.

“I like being here,” he said. “I like helping with the model, and grocery shopping, and seeing you put stickers on the calendar. I like listening when you rant about your professor or whisper that you're tired. I like it when you fall asleep on the sofa next to me.”

His voice was steadier now, but still low. 

“I like it,” he said, “because it’s you.”

You blinked hard.

Your throat burned.

“But I haven’t even done anything for you,” you murmured. “Not really.”

He made a soft sound at that. “You really think that?”

You nodded a little. His shirt brushed your cheek. “I feel like I’m just… needing all the time. And you just give.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’ve done more for me than you know.”

Your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “Like what?”

There was a pause. Not silence, not really, but a moment held so carefully you didn’t dare breathe.

“You made this place feel like home,” he said finally. “You make me laugh when I’ve had a bad day. You believe in me when I don’t believe in myself.”

The lump in your throat nearly doubled in size.

You couldn’t speak.

So you just… leaned in.

Laid your forehead against his chest, eyes burning, heart twisting.

He didn’t say anything after that. Neither did you.

But his arms pulled you in slowly. Gently.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, folded into the warmth of him, listening to his heartbeat and the way his breathing slowed. You could feel his hand resting lightly against your back, not moving anymore. Just there. Steady.

You should’ve tried to sleep. You should’ve just closed your eyes.

But instead, you felt your mouth part. 

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, barely audible.

His chest shifted with a breath. “Yeah?”

Your hand curled against the fabric of his shirt. “Can…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t looking at him. You couldn’t.

He was silent. Even his breathing had stopped. 

You instantly regretted asking.

You’d never kissed anyone. You didn't know how to do so. Asking was the most logical thing to your head. 

You could feel your whole body tense. “I’m sorry, I just—forget it, I don’t—”

He let out the softest sound. A breath that sounded like laughter, barely there, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just asked–but not in a mocking way. In a stunned, almost reverent kind of way.

Then he shifted.

You felt his hand move. He brushed your hair back, careful and slow. His fingers tucked the strands behind your ear, and his palm settled gently against your cheek.

When you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

Eyes soft. 

Warm. 

The corners crinkled in that way they always did when he smiled without really smiling.

His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, you forgot how to move.

And then, slowly and carefully, you leaned in.

You weren’t sure where to put your hands. Or how close you should get. Your heart felt like it might combust from the pressure alone. You tilted your head, eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes, over and over, waiting for some final confirmation.

And then, your lips touched.

It was soft.

Softer than you ever imagined it could be.

There were no fireworks in your chest. You didn’t feel any butterflies. Just warmth. Gentle warmth. The steady beat of your heart slowing for the first time all week. 

His lips moved slowly against yours, careful. Guiding, but not pushing. Letting you take the lead, letting you pull away whenever.

When you finally did, it was only by a few centimeters, and you stayed there. Your foreheads almost touching, your hand still pressed to his chest, his softly caressing your face.

Your cheeks were glowing. Your lips tingled. You couldn’t look at him.

“I didn’t… know it would feel like that,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

You blinked, breathing softly. “Good? Right?”

And when he smiled this time, you could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah,” he said, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Right.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. Breathing the same small pocket of air. His thumb brushed once over your cheekbone, then again, as if he couldn’t believe that you were here. That you had kissed him.

That you had wanted to.

And you had. Still did.

Your fingers flexed slightly in the fabric of his shirt. He shifted, just barely.

He pulled back only enough to look at you again.

Your face flushed under the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t turn away this time. You let him look. Let yourself be seen. Your chest ached in that strange, unfamiliar way—half-sweet, half-scary. The way it always does when something is too good and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to keep it.

But he just smiled.

So softly it made your breath catch.

And then, he leaned in again.

Slower this time.

His lips brushed yours so lightly.

You kissed him back.

His lips were soft and tasted like the mint toothpaste he used earlier.

When he pulled away this time, he stayed close.

His nose brushed yours. Your breath mingled. He whispered, barely audible, “I really like you.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know what to say.

Your hand slid up, fingers resting over his heart. You felt it beating, fast and steady beneath your palm. 

You must’ve dozed off like that.

Curled into his chest, legs tangled gently under the covers, the heat of his skin lulling you deeper into calm with every slow breath.

When you stirred again, it was because he shifted a little, barely more than a sigh against your hair.

“Still awake?” His voice was quiet, hoarse with sleep.

You nodded against him. “Mmhm.”

He pulled you in a little closer, resting his chin carefully against the top of your head. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Your smile was tiny. “You’re comfy.”

A pause. Then, “You drool.”

You shoved at his chest with a muffled groan, and he let out a quiet laugh that vibrated through you.

“I do not,” you whispered indignantly.

“You do,” he whispered back, grinning. “But it’s okay. I’ve decided I’ll allow it.”

You went quiet again, pressing your nose into his hoodie and breathing him in. You wanted to say something–to tell him how unreal this felt, how scared you still were, how good it felt too. But the words got stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

Instead, your fingers curled against his side, and you whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for.

He just held you tighter.

Somewhere between his warmth and the comfort of the quiet, you felt your chest ease. 

He kissed your forehead a moment later and you just…melted a little. 

You would let yourself have this. Just this one perfect thing. 

This time, you were the one to whisper first. Just barely audible:

“I like you too.”

His hand stilled where it had been gently tracing over your spine. And then, he whispered, just above your ear:

“I know.”

You smiled again. 

This time, when your eyes closed, you didn’t fight it.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon woke up first, the quiet morning light spilling softly through the curtains. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just lay there, completely still, taking in the sight of you. Your face was relaxed in peaceful sleep, your hair spread out over the pillow like a halo. He could feel your breath against his chest, slow and steady, and the weight of your body pressed against his side, warm and comforting.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Sunghoon could hardly believe what had happened the night before. Everything felt like a dream. 

He had somehow been waiting for this moment without even knowing it. 

His head replayed the moment. How you had been so close. How you asked him to kiss you and, how carefully, how gently, you had let him kiss you. And then you kissed him back.

Your breath hitched lightly in your sleep, and for a split second, he thought you might wake up, but you only shifted, pressing your cheek further into his chest.

He smiled to himself, unable to stop the soft warmth blooming in his chest. 

He wanted nothing more than to hold you like this forever, to keep you safe, to keep you with him.

His fingers lightly brushed the back of your neck, tracing the soft line of your skin. 

He glanced down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, listening to the peaceful rhythm of your breath. 

Sunghoon wanted to savor this, savor you, in the quiet morning light. He didn’t know what exactly this was yet, where it was going, but he also kinda didn’t care. 

He was just so glad that you were here. With him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek softly. You were so beautiful, even in the quiet stillness of the morning, so perfect that it almost didn’t feel real. He just wished you could see that too. 

He remembered the night you had laid across his chest on the sofa the first time, your body was so close. He remembered feeling the soft dip of your ribs through your shirt. It wasn’t so bad anymore. The meal plan was working better than he had thought it would.

Your ribs weren’t as sharp now. You were still tired and freezing but it was getting so much better. Even your migraines seemed to lessen.

He was so proud of you, of how far you had come, even though he knew that there was still a long way to go. He just hoped you would let him be part of that, you would let him help until you didn’t need help anymore. 

Sunghoon had to fight the urge to wake you up, to kiss you again. To pull you even closer. But he decided to let you rest for a few more minutes, knowing that your alarm would ring at 10 am, like it always did on the weekend.

For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up like this every day. Next to you, your head on his chest, your body curled into his. Of being able to kiss you stupid if he wanted to. 

You shifted. Your face was still soft with sleep but your eyes fluttered open. 

“Good morning,” he murmured gently, brushing his fingers over your hair, pushing a strand away from your forehead. He really loved your hair. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked softly.

You barely cracked one eye open and a sleepy hum escaped your lips as you nodded slightly in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Mm, yes.”

His heart melted at the sight. He had seen you wake up only a handful of times. Usually if the two of you slept in one bed together you were the first one to wake up. 

You sounded so out of it. 

“Alright,” he said, trying not to smile too much. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, feeling the softness of your hair beneath his lips. “I’ll get breakfast started then.”

But just as he started to move, you whimpered, the soft, almost pained sound stopping him in his tracks. He froze, unsure of what to do for a second, his heart skipping a beat.

“Stay...” you murmured, your voice low and drowsy, your body still nestled against the warmth of his chest.

He smiled, shaking his head lightly. “You need to eat, Y/N. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn’t want to be away from you, but he knew you needed to get up. You had to eat and probably start drawing whatever you still needed to draw for your assignment. 

You groaned in response, squinting your eyes closed again. But then, you slowly allowed him to shift away, the tiniest sigh escaping your lips. You looked at him for a moment, your gaze still clouded with sleep, before you gave him a lazy smile, still blinking away the sleep in your eyes.

“Okay…” you mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, sliding out of bed. As he moved towards the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back over his shoulder at you, still lying there, all tangled in the blankets.

He couldn’t help but smile.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon felt your presence behind him before he saw you. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him and paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow, not expecting you to follow so quickly. 

Before he could react, you pressed your body gently into his back, your face nestling against his shoulder blade. He froze for a moment, feeling your warmth against him, and a quiet laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest. 

He knew you were kinda clingy, when you liked someone. He had seen how you liked to be close to Mark, how you sometimes followed Sunoo or Renjun like a lost duckling in the hallways of the university and has had the pleasure of you somehow clinging to him as well. Coming to the kitchen to work in silence while he was cooking, sitting down on the sofa to watch whatever he was watching, even if he knew you weren't interested, cuddling on the sofa or one of your beds when one of you felt down. 

But it wasn’t like you to be so forward.

When he turned around to face you, he was met with your eyes, they were wide and a little uncertain, and that small, shy smile you always wore when you were feeling bashful. It made his heart soften even more.

His hand instinctively reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was low, a soft question, as he studied you, the tender expression on his face betraying his own racing thoughts.

“I... didn’t think it would feel like this,” you finally muttered, almost shyly, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his eyes again. “I mean... it’s... different than I thought it would be.”

Sunghoon smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. "It’s okay," he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He saw the hesitation in your eyes before you carefully placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him, slightly clumsy in your movements but so endearing. "I just... want to know how," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

His heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth spreading through him. Sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of it light and full of affection. “You’re doing just fine,” he reassured you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss.

This time, when your lips met his, it was softer, slower. There was no rush. His hands gently found their way to your back, pulling you closer but not forcing anything. He just wanted to be close.

You kissed him back, your lips tentative at first but gradually growing more confident as you moved with him. 

It wasn’t perfect.

There were moments of awkwardness, a little shifting as you both figured out the rhythm, but it felt right. It felt... new.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing was a little heavier, and there was that nervous little smile on your face, making Sunghoon’s chest ache with affection.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he teased gently, his thumb brushing over your lips before he smiled down at you, his gaze soft.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed . “I- no- no it's nice. I like kissing you.”

Sunghoon couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. It was a little silly, maybe, how happy he felt about something so simple. 

"I’m glad," he whispered.

──────────────────────

The days after your first kiss were somehow weird. Nice. But weird.  Your and Sunghoons dynamic didn’t really change after you kissed.  What changed were the small things. Like how Sunghoon had developed a tendency to press a kiss to your forehead or the crown of your head whenever he walked past you. At first, it startled you. Then it became something you looked forward to. Sunoo teasingly claimed it was because Sunghoon didn’t want to overwhelm you by kissing you all the time. Since you really didn’t have much experience there and maybe Sunghoon was afraid you would be uncomfortable. You wouldn’t have been. You wouldn’t have minded at all if Sunghoon kissed you more. In fact, you wanted him to.

You liked the way it felt, his fingers slipping into your hair, the warm pressure of his mouth against yours, the way your breath always caught for a second b. You liked being close to him. That simple.  It was a Thursday evening, the day you handed in your final model in Sustainability,  when you surprised both of you. You were standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands still damp from rinsing a cutting board, when you heard the familiar clink of keys and the quiet creak of the front door. 

Sunghoon padded over behind you, still smelling faintly like his perfume, even after training. He must have brought it to the rink and sprayed it on again. You felt him lean in to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

But this time, you moved first.

You tilted your head up on instinct. The angle was a little off, his nose bumped yours, but it didn’t matter. Your lips caught his, quick and soft, before you could overthink it.

You surprised yourself.

And him.

His eyes were wide for half a second, startled, and then they softened.

You whispered a quiet, breathless, “Hi,” against his lips. 

Sunghoon smiled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your face. He really liked doing that as well. 

“Hi,” he whispered back, eyes still on yours.

Then, with the other hand against your jaw, fingers brushing just under your ear, he tilted your head up a bit and kissed you again. Slower this time. Deeper. And everything in you went quiet and full, like a held breath exhaled at last.

Sunghoon's thumb brushed along your jaw as he pulled back slightly, breath still warm against your skin. His eyes, gentle and a little tired from training, crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, voice low. “I didn’t shower in the rink, I’m a bit gross. I just came to check if you ate.” 

You blinked up at him. Right. Eating.

You wordlessly lifted a finger and pointed toward the calendar hanging by the fridge.

He turned, followed your line of sight and laughed softly. A new sticker sat under the day's date, small and shiny. This one was a tiny white puppy with a floppy ear and a pink tongue sticking out.

"New pack?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, and he reached up to brush his thumb once under your eye, so softly it barely counted as touch. 

“You’re too cute,” he said. His voice was so warm, so fond. You were so happy you got to see Sunghoon like this. 

He leaned in again, just one more press of lips to yours. 

“I’m gonna shower, okay?” he said as he pulled away, slowly, reluctantly.

You nodded again, feeling lightheaded in the nicest possible way.

As he disappeared down the hallway, you stopped for a moment, the soft overhead light casting a golden glow on the counter and the fruit you had forgotten about entirely.

You were giddy.

Your knees felt a little weak and your lips tingled. 

You popped a grape into your mouth and padded to the couch with the plate in hand, settling into the cushions like you had a secret folded under your skin.

You didn’t even pick a show right away - just sat there for a while, nibbling fruit, listening to the sound of water running through the walls, your fingers pressed against your lips.

──────────────────────

When Sunghoon padded out of the bathroom, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the first thing he noticed was how quiet the apartment had gotten. The radio that was playing in the kitchen when he came home was quiet and he didn’t hear the TV making any sounds. 

Then he saw you. You were curled up on the sofa, blanket sliding off your shoulder, the plate of fruit halfway eaten empty on the table.

He chuckled under his breath, ruffling his hair with a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch the episode?” he asked gently, kneeling next to the couch.

You whined softly, not bothering to open your eyes. “I did…” your voice was muffled by the cushion. “But I'm too tired. I don’t want to get up.”

Sunghoon smiled, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s get you to bed.”

When you didn't move, he sighed and simply slipped one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifted you with surprising ease.

“Sunghoon!” you protested faintly, eyes fluttering open now.

But he just grinned down at you, walking toward his room with careful steps. “You didn’t move to get up, so now you don’t have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, hiding your flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean you had to carry me.”

He set you down gently at the edge of his bed, grabbing his laptop to queue up the episode again. “Go get ready, yeah? You’re not sleeping in jeans again.”

You pouted, fingers curling around the hem of his hoodie 

It took a moment before you finally shuffled off to the bathroom. When you returned your hair was pulled back in a neat braid and your eyes were half-lidded with sleep. He was already under the covers, the screen glowing with the paused episode.

You climbed in beside him without a word, immediately curling into his side, arm around his waist, cheek to his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, adjusting the blanket around you.

You nodded sleepily, lips barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Mmhm.”

He kissed the top of your head, soft and slow and started the episode.

You were asleep before the second scene.

──────────────────────

You pushed the broccoli on your plate to the side.

It wasn’t even that much food. Not really. It should be more.

But it even the small dinner portion felt like a mountain today

Your stomach felt full from breakfast and lunch and the little snacks you ate in between.

Your mind had started counting again the second you sat down. Like a reel stuck on loop.

210 for the rice. 130 for the chicken. The oil? 40? 50? That made…

You stopped.

Didn’t want to know.

Wanted to know so badly it ached.

The numbers didn’t add up right. Or they added up too much. Or not enough.

This week was supposed to be better.

You were supposed to try harder.

You upped your calorie intake goal last monday.

Just like you had done a week before and a week before that one. You meal prepped your breakfst and lunch, your snacks, cooked with Sunghoon, when both of you were home and not stuck in the academy to prerp for exams.

Your did best to eat it all.

You couldn't.

Not once.

But somehow your stomach rebelled every time. Either you felt too full, too fast, or just sick at the thought of finishing a full plate.

You hadn’t filled in your calendar once. Not a single dog. Not even the tiny one Sunghoon said counted “just for trying.”

You felt like you were breaking your own promises.

Like you were letting everyone down.

However that wasn't the worst thing.

You were lying.

You got home before Sunghoon today. He had group work again, most of the people in his classes being athletes meant that most meetings started late and dragged past 10. He texted you “Dinner together?” and you’d typed “Already ate! But I’ll sit with you :)" before you could overthink it.

Then you tossed the leftover broccoli and chicken into the trash can, tied the bag up and brought it downstairs. You rinsed your plate and the one you usually used for your fruits and set them in the sink.

And you hated yourself a little for it. Not only for wasting food. But for even knowing what to do to make it believable you ate. And did so, for the third time in a row now

You knew Sunghoon would be supportive even if you couldn't eat today.

But maybe he would be mad you lied.

Sunghoon never got mad.

But because he’d be kind.

He’d be soft.

You were disappointing him.

You blinked hard and wiped your palms on your thighs.

It’s just food.

It’s just dinner.

It’s just one stupid sticker.

But it felt like proof. 

Proof that you failed. 

That you weren't getting better, no many how many people helped you.

──────────────────────

You heard the soft click of the front door unlocking before his familiar footsteps padded down the hallway. You sat up straighter on the couch, quickly grabbing your phone to pretend you hadn’t just been staring blankly at the floor.

He stepped into the living room, hair a little damp from the evening drizzle, eyes tired but bright when they landed on you.

“Hey,” he said softly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You were grateful–so, so grateful–he kissed you there and not on your lips. You weren’t sure what your breath might smell like after hours of nothing but water and mint gum. But you weren’t hungry. That was the worst part. You were feeling so full even if you didn't eat enough for your dog. Even if the thought of doing so made your stomach lurch. Sunghoon dropped onto the couch next to you with a tired exhale, stretching out long beside you. “Group work is the worst,” he muttered, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “I swear half the time is just arguing over who’s doing what. And I got roped into designing the slides again.” You smiled faintly, nodding. You wanted to ask him more, about the project, about the annoying guy in his group he always complained about, but the words didn’t make it to your mouth. Everything was muffled behind a thick, dull fog. His voice softened. “You okay?” You blinked and forced your lips into a gentler curve. “Yeah,” you said. “Just… think I’ve got a migraine coming on.” His brows pulled together in quiet concern. “Do you want me to get your stuff?” You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s fine. I took something already. I just—” you leaned a little into the couch cushions, “—need to rest, I think.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning your face like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t going to push. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said after a second. “Gonna wash off real quick.”

You nodded again and watched him disappear down the hallway.

And then you were alone again.

You curled your fingers into the hem of your sweater and exhaled.

You weren’t even sure what you needed to do to feel better.

To eat?

To cry?

To stop feeling like this?

But the only thing you were sure of was this:

You didn’t want him to know.

A few minutes later Sunghoon rounded the couch and dropped down beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, his familiar warmth filling the small space between you both.

You kept your smile in place, the same soft, practiced curve of your lips. But you felt too aware of your body–of the weight in your stomach, the lingering guilt simmering under your skin.

He stretched his legs out, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling like he was finally able to breathe again. "I swear I am so glad when my exams are over," he groaned.

You nodded, letting out a faint hum in agreement.

But his gaze flickered to you almost immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Your breath caught, and you stared at the screen of your phone, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Yeah, just… tired.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

You could feel his eyes on you, lingering like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give.

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.

A beat passed.

“Did you eat something good for dinner? I'm going to make myself something, do you want to eat a bit with me?” he asked, softer this time.

Your heart stuttered painfully against your ribs. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, nodding with a small smile you hoped looked convincing. “Mhm. I’m fine, I already ate dinner.”

Another pause.

He shifted closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind you. "Did you get your little dog sticker?" His voice was light–teasing–but you could hear the quiet worry threaded beneath it.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look at him, just stared at your hands in your lap as your smile faltered for a split second.

And that was all it took.

His hand gently brushed over your arm. "Y/N," he said softly, "you know you don’t have to lie to me, right? It's okay if you're not feeling okay."

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I’m not—” You stopped yourself. The words tangled. Lying felt worse when he said it like that.

He shifted again, moving to face you fully this time, his knee brushing yours. “It’s okay if you didn’t reach your goal today.” His voice was quiet, careful. “I’m still proud of you for trying.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

You shook your head, blinking hard, unable to look at him. “I just… I thought you’d be disappointed.”

“Hey,…” His hand found yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I couldn’t…” You swallowed, the guilt finally pushing its way to the surface. “I couldn’t do it right. Not today. Not this week. I wanted to-but it’s just-” Your breath hitched. “It’s not enough.”

He was quiet for a moment before his hand squeezed yours, grounding and warm.

“It’s always enough,” he said softly. “You’re always enough.”

You finally looked up, and the warmth in his eyes nearly broke you.

“And you don’t have to prove anything to me to make me proud,” he added, voice softer now. “Just… let me be here with you, okay? Even on the days that feel hard.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that.

You nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. “Okay.”

He pulled you into his side without another word, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. 

──────────────────────

You waited until his breathing evened out.

Soft and steady. His arm was draped loosely around your middle, like it always was. 

Your chest felt tight. Like the air in your lungs wasn’t settling right. Like you couldn’t breathe. 

You slid out from under the covers carefully, inch by inch. His body shifted a little, but he didn’t wake up.

You hoped he didn’t.

The kitchen was mostly dark when you padded in barefoot. The city outside glowed faintly through the sheer curtains, casting pale golden lines across the calendar hanging on the fridge. The little dog stickers stared back at you, soft and silly and so stupidly kind-looking it made something inside your chest twist.

None for the last week.

You’d tried.

You really, really tried.

But every time you sat down in front of a plate, something clenched in your gut. The idea of eating more made your throat tight. You felt full already. And not in a satisfied way. In a sick way.

But still you told Sunghoon you had eaten.

You even rinsed off the plate and put it in the sink so it looked like you had.

You had lied to him.

Your eyes burned, staring at that empty row on the calendar. You hugged your knees to your chest, curling up on one of the kitchen chairs like you used to do when you were younger. 

Everything felt too big and too loud and too much.

You didn’t hear him at first.

But then there was the softest creak of the floorboard behind you, and you turned, startled, to see Sunghoon standing at the edge of the hallway. His bleached hair was messy from sleep, a faint crease on one cheek. He was just in sweatpants and a t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up. His eyes locked on yours almost immediately.

“Y/N…” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something else. 

Concern.

You looked away.

He walked toward you, bare feet making almost no sound and crouched down beside your chair, resting one hand on the armrest, the other lightly brushing your calf.

“You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, then nodded. You weren’t sure which one was truer.

He followed your gaze to the calendar, to the bare stretch of empty squares. You felt your lip wobble and hated it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, quietly. His hand slid up to your knee, warm and grounding. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I just… I wanted to do better this week.”

“I know.”

“I thought if I just told you I ate enough you wouldn’t be–” You broke off.

He didn’t flinch. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’ll never be.”

You finally looked at him.

He held your gaze for a long moment. And then he stood up slowly, his hand reaching out toward you.

“Come back to bed,” he said, so gently it made your chest ache.

You hesitated.

But then you let him pull you up. Let him wrap your hand in his and guide you through the soft dark of the apartment. Back to the bedroom, back to the bed still warm from where you’d left him.

He pulled the covers up around you, then slid in behind you, arm curling around your waist again.

You exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

And he didn’t say anything else.

Just pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and held you close.

──────────────────────

You woke up to the warmth of his chest against your back, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was still around you, hand resting lightly beneath your ribs.

You blinked at the soft light filtering through the curtains. 

It was still morning. 

Late, maybe.

Sunghoon was awake.

You knew it before he spoke. You felt it in the way his thumb was tracing slow, absent-minded shapes against your side. His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Good morning.” he said softly.

You swallowed. “Morning, Hoon.”

“You slept in today.”

You turned slowly onto your back, the sheets rustling as his arm shifted with you. He was looking at you. His hair was a mess, and you could see the stubble of his bear along his chin.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, voice small.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. “You skipped training.”

“I texted my coach,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he cut in gently. “I wanted to stay.”

You looked away, blinking fast.

“I wasn’t trying to hide things from you,” you whispered. “I just… I thought if I could at least pretend I was okay, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

His hand came up, warm and solid against your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his.

“I’m never disappointed in you,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather worry than be lied to.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I wanted to get that stupid sticker,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “But not eating enough to earn it doesn’t make you a failure. It just means we’re still figuring things out.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After a long pause, he sighed through his nose. “Hey… remember I told you my friends were thinking of grabbing dinner tonight?”

You glanced at him, brows knitting together.

“You said I could come if I wanted to.”

“That’s still true. I know crowds aren’t always your favorite thing, but maybe having a few people around could… I don’t know. Make eating feel less like a thing for a night.”

You thought about it.

After a few seconds you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, warm and proud and relieved all at once.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ll take it slow.”

And you believed him.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon saw you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at something Heeseung’s girlfriend said, your fingers fidgeting slightly beneath the table. The grill in the center hissed with grease and heat, smoke curling in slow spirals above the sizzling slices of pork belly. He sat beside you, tongs in one hand, quietly turning the meat, brushing it with marinade. Mark told him you used to love samgyopsal.  Now, he watched you hesitate before picking up a piece with your chopsticks. You chewed slowly, nodding as Jay’s girlfriend offered you some of her favorite dipping sauce. You thanked her softly. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Sunghoon knew. He knew that you were feeling off a bit today.  Yesterday.  Probably the whole last week, since you told him you’d try to eat another 100 kcal more every day now. Since you failed to reach that goal every day for a week now. He hoped that being around people that you enjoyed hanging out with would make it easier. You’ve told him before that you really liked his friends and you ate almost an entire steak the last time when Jay, Jake and Heeseung were over.  But you were quiet tonight. Not withdrawn, just…watchful. You laughed here and there, made conversation, but you weren’t fully with them. He glanced across the table at his friends, who were animated and loud, clinking soju glasses and stacking lettuce wraps with an alarming amount of garlic. And then he looked to the left - at the two girls from his training crew who’d shown up last minute.

You hadn’t said much to them. You’d made the effort, Sunghoon had noticed that too, but he could see you pulling back. It was like the two of them were making everything worse. He just couldn’t understand why.  Sunghoon saw Wonie shift in her seat beside you, tucking her napkin onto her lap before leaning a little closer. "You’re in architecture, right?" she asked, her voice bright. "I think that’s so cool. You must be, like, crazy good at drawing." You smiled, he saw that, but it was that careful, polite kind you used when you were feeling awkward. The one you gave him when he just moved in. When you didn’t know how to answer. “Sometimes,” you said softly, and your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

Wonie laughed, unbothered. “Oh! The paintings in your apartment are clearly showing that you don’t just sometimes draw crazy good. They are so beautiful.” You nodded, still smiling, but Sunghoon could see how your shoulders had crept higher, your posture a little too stiff. You were trying so hard.  He wished so badly it would be easier for you.  Sunghoon made sure to keep your plate from going empty, not pushing too much meat, because he knew that was hard. But sweetened pickled radish. A few rice cakes. Rolled omelet. Tiny bites of manageable food, colorful and easy to chew. After a while you excused yourself to go to the restroom. When you got up, Wonyoung waited until you were out of earshot before turning to him and Heeseung, a crease forming between her brows. “Is she okay?” she asked, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “I was trying to talk to her, but she seemed kinda… out of it.” Heeseung leaned back in his seat, mouth already full of pork belly, and shrugged slightly. “She’s probably just having a rough day. She’s not always super talkative, but she usually warms up. It’s not personal.”

He and Heesueng often talked about you. Sunghoon has told him how you were doing, kept him updated because Heeseung himself asked quite frequently how you were doing. He assumed it was because Heesung knew what it meant to love someone who was struggling. Sunghoon was aware that Heeseungs his friends' girlfriends has had a hard life as well and even if she didn’t let it shine through too often, Heeseung had told him that she was often struggling as well.  So he guessed Heeseung kinda knew what was going on with you tonight.  He knew Heeseung, even if he was getting giggly and drunk, would never tell a stranger about it though.   Wonie nodded, but glanced back toward the hallway. “She seems really sweet. Just... quiet.” Sunghoon didn’t say much. He just hummed, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Because yeah. You were sweet. You were quiet. And that was okay.  When you came back to the table, Sunghoon’s eyes went to your face first, like they always did, and then, almost unconsciously, drifted down to your hands. Your knuckles looked normal. No redness. No telltale signs. But he still looked. Every time. He told himself he wasn’t being paranoid. Not really. Just… cautious. Just watching. Because he knew you. Knew how hard you tried, how strict you could be with yourself. He’d seen your calendar, the quiet pride on your face when you stuck a little dog sticker onto the square. But he also knew the days you didn’t. He knew that when you missed a sticker, sometimes it was just a few calories but sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was an entire skipped meal. Sometimes it was trying too hard. Always trying too hard. You’d raised your goal last week. He knew that too. And you were so strict about it, like one missed calorie was failure. Like one sticker not earned meant you'd let everyone down. Like he would be disappointed. As if that could ever be true. Sunghoon leaned forward and turned the grill down a little, just to give his hands something to do. He watched you nudge a piece of sweet pancake around your plate, like you were trying to convince yourself you wanted it. When you caught his eye, you gave him the smallest smile. A tired one. But real. He gave you one back and reached for your hand beneath the table, just brushing his fingers over your knuckles once. Soft. Gentle.

──────────────────────

When you got home, it was late and cold outside. The scent of grilled meat clinged to your hair, your clothing. You toed off your shoes in the hallway and padded into the kitchen without a word. Sunghoon followed a few minutes later after locking the door and flicking off the hallway light. The only glow now came from the small lamp you kept on the kitchen counter, casting a soft golden pool across the room. You stood in front of the calendar. He saw the way your shoulders dropped before you even spoke. “I can’t put a sticker up, Honnie,” you whispered. “Again." His chest tightened. He didn’t answer right away, just walked up slowly behind you until he could place a gentle hand on your back. You didn’t flinch, but your head dipped forward like the shame was heavy. “I tried. I really did. But it just… I couldn’t.”

He didn’t ask how much you missed it by. He already knew it didn’t matter to you, it would still feel like failure to you, no matter the number. So he spoke softly. “Do you want to lower the goal again? Just a bit?” You turned to face him slowly, your eyes glossy but dry. “I thought I could handle more,” you said. “I thought it’d make me better. I just wanted to be- I wanted you to be proud.” His heart cracked a little more at that. He stepped in, arms slipping around your waist, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “I’m already proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “Every single day.” You didn’t reply, just stood there in his arms, arms wound tight around his middle. And maybe he felt the tiniest tremble in your fingers when you finally clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Let’s change the goal tomorrow,” he whispered. “Not because you failed. But because we’re learning. Okay?” You nodded against him.

“Okay.”

──────────────────────

You stared at your phone in disbelief.  You had done it. You had eaten enough today. You could finally glue a sticker to your calendar again. 

You reached for the sticker sheet with slightly trembling fingers. Sunghoon bought another pack of dog stickers a few days ago. These ones were pale yellow puppies with pink cheeks. You peeled one off carefully and placed it onto the day’s square, softly pressing it down. A breath broke out of your chest, and you felt lighter. Then a laugh. Then, without thinking, you were calling Sunghoon. He picked up halfway through the fourth ring, a bit breathless, the shouting of his coach over someone's music locker muffled in the background. “Hey, Y/Nie—what’s up?” You sat down at the kitchen table, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I did it,” you whispered. “I get a dog today.” There was a pause, half a beat, before he made a soft, stunned sound, full of joy. “You did?”

“I did.” “Wait – hold on,” he said, voice muffled as he must’ve turned to cover the receiver. Then clearer, “I’m so proud of you. Wait– wait, I have something, too.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. “What?” “I qualified,” he said. “For the invitational next spring. My coach just told me.” Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way.” “Yeah. I don’t know how that happened but it seems like my lucky streak is back!” You felt like bursting. You felt full. In the best way. You whispered, “We did so good today.” He chuckled, soft and low. “Yeah, we did.” As you hung up, a warm, calm feeling settled over you. You had decided to lower the calorie goal and that was okay. You had listened to Ten, to Johnny, to Mark and to Sunghoon.  They all told you it was okay to stagnate for a little while. Recovery wasn’t meant to be linear.

It was okay to take a step back. You weren’t giving up, you were just being kinder to yourself. You still had work to do, but you weren’t trying to run a marathon when you weren’t even sure how to walk yet.  Without thinking, you picked up your pen and reached for the calendar again. You drew two tiny stars next to the dog sticker. Then three more. Then a few sparkles in gold. One for him. One for you. One for both of you. You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling just a little bit. You stared at the stars, the gold dots gleaming in the soft kitchen light.  You had earned this.  It felt good to say that. When Sunghoon came home, he paused at the door, eyes falling on the calendar before he even took off his shoes. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You really did it?” he asked, his voice warm with a mixture of pride and affection. You nodded, suddenly feeling more confident than you had in a long time. “I did. And… I’m okay with it. I think I made the right choice by lowering the calorie goal.” His eyes softened as he walked closer, lifting his hand to brush his fingers through your hair and cradle your face. “I’m proud of you. I’m really proud of you.” Your heart swelled. You had no idea what you would’ve done without him, without this space where you could grow. And even though you didn’t have all the answers, you were beginning to understand that it was okay. Sunghoon smiled at the calendar again. “I think I might need to get you more dog stickers,” he teased, pulling you into a closer. You laughed softly. “You’re gonna spoil me,” you said, a playful glint in your eye. “I’m gonna spoil you because you deserve it,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making your chest warm, before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

──────────────────────

The wind was a little too chilly and you buried your face in Sunghoon's scarf.  It smelled so distinctly of him.  Of home.  You’ve just handed in your last model for this semester and were walking back home instead of taking the bus. It was a forty minute walk, but you enjoyed seeing something else than your apartment, the studio or the rink.  You found yourself walking aimlessly, when something caught your eye. An elegant, minimalist hair salon with a large glass window showcasing sleek, shiny haircuts and smooth blowouts. You paused. You had been thinking about cutting your hair for a while now. It was brittle and thin and you had it in a braid more times than not, since it was long enough to annoy you.  Maybe it was time for a change.

You walked up to the door, hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open. The salon was warm, and the air smelled faintly of floral-scented hair products. A stylist greeted you with a smile. "Hi, welcome! How can I help you today?" You smiled, trying to sound casual, even though your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. "Uh, I was wondering if you had any slots available today?" She checked her schedule, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen. "We do have one opening in an hour. Would that work for you?" You nodded eagerly. “Yes, perfect. I’ll be back then.” She handed you a quick form to fill out and you wandered out of the salon, mind buzzing. What were you even doing? You didn’t even have a clear idea of what kind of cut you wanted. You only knew that you needed to change something.  You strolled around the nearby shops, your thoughts running wild. You ended up spending most of the time in a arts and crafts store, trying out different new pens and materials and buying new stickers. Snowmen, since winter and christmas was right around the corner. You glanced at the time on your phone and hurried back to the salon. When you returned, the stylist was ready for you, and she smiled at you warmly as she led you to the chair.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, setting the cape around your shoulders. You took a deep breath and smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I want, but I think... I want to go shorter. Maybe above my shoulders? Something that will make my hair look fuller and give it some life?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Got it. I think going shorter will help with volume. Do you want layers, or just a clean chop?” You hesitated for a moment, then decided, “Layers sound good. Something soft, but not too much. I want it to feel light, not too heavy.” The stylist smiled and gave you a reassuring nod. “Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” As she began cutting, you sank into the chair, your thoughts running quietly in the background. It felt good to take control of something for once, to make a change without worrying about the consequences By the time the cut was done, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled softly. It was shorter than you expected, but in a good way. It framed your face, the layers adding a bit of volume and movement. You ran your fingers through it.  When the stylist finished, she spun the chair around so you could get a full look. “How does that feel?” “Good,” you said, feeling a rush of confidence you hadn’t had in a while. “I think I love it.”

She smiled. “Great choice. It’s always refreshing to try something new.” You paid for the cut and thanked her profusely before heading back out into the city streets.  As you stepped out of the salon and walked back toward your apartment, your mind started to race. Would Sunghoon think it looks good? He had always liked your hair. Loved it, really.  He loves to run his fingers through it whenever he had the chance to. He always told you he loved how long and pretty it was.  It wasn’t long anymore. More of a bob, just above your shoulders, with soft layers framing your face. It was fresh, bouncy, and definitely gave off a different vibe. Would he think you were still... pretty? You chewed your bottom lip, glancing at your reflection in the windows as you passed by the shops. The bob looked great, but you were still unsure if it was exactly what he would expect or if he would even like it. But it’s not about what he expects, you reminded yourself. 

It’s about what you want.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon’s arms were overflowing as he fumbled his way through the door, balancing a grocery bag precariously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His key clattered noisily onto the side table as he shoved the door open with his hip, barely managing to keep the apples that were laying on the top from rolling out of the bag. "Hi Y/N! I am ho-" he stopped mid sentence. You were standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. And your hair— He blinked, stunned, trying to process what he was seeing. It was shorter. Soft waves curled just beneath your chin, brushing against your neck in a way that made his stomach flip violently. God, you looked so beautiful. Sunghoon didn’t even remember letting go of the bags, only registering the soft thump of them hitting the floor a second later.  All he could see was you.

All he could think about was you. Before he knew it, he was crossing the room in three big strides, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to you. You turned around at the sound, eyes widening slightly at the sudden movement, and gave him the shyest, tiniest smile. Without thinking, Sunghoon cupped your face in his hands, his fingers immediately finding their way into the soft strands of your new haircut. It felt so different. Lighter. Softer. “Do you like it?” you asked, voice so small he almost missed it. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice hoarse. He huffed out a laugh, disbelieving, awestruck. “Baby, you look–” He didn’t even finish. Instead, he dipped his head down and kissed you, hard.

You let out a startled little squeak against his mouth, hands flailing for half a second before settling against his chest. His mouth slanted over yours desperately and a little clumsy, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough. His fingers slid into your soft, feather-light hair, brushing through the strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you to him. For a second he feared that overwhelmed you and that you wanted to stop kissing, that you wanted to pull away. You didn’t. In fact, you tilted your head up, chasing after him just as eagerly, your giggle bubbling against his mouth. He pulled back a fraction to breathe, but didn’t even make it a full second before diving back in, kissing you again. His hand slipped from your hair down to your waist, tugging you flush against him. He savored the way you melted against him, the way your fingers slipped up to tangle in the fabric of his hoodie. He could feel the way your heart raced against his chest, matching the frantic beat of his own. He should have stopped there.

He should have. But Sunghoon was completely, hopelessly addicted to you. He kissed you again, and again, and again. Each kiss grew deeper, a little more desperate. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way his hands slid down to your waist, couldn’t help the way his thumb traced the line of your jaw, memorizing every inch of you. You broke apart, gasping, and he caught a glimpse of your flushed cheeks and the wide, dazed smile you gave him.

“Sunghoon–” you started, laughing breathlessly. He cut you off with another kiss, just because he could. This time slower, more deliberate, his lips teasing at the corners of your mouth before fully capturing them again. His hands roamed, stroking your sides, feeling the way you trembled just slightly under his touch. You weren’t exactly passive either. Your hands slid up his chest, fists bunching in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. When he flicked his tongue lightly against your lower lip, testing, you gasped, the sound shooting straight through him like a live wire. He pulled back again, barely, resting his forehead against yours, panting a little. “God,” he muttered, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a kind of reverence. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” You smiled, all shy and giddy, still half in his arms. “I just got a haircut…” you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe the reaction you were getting.

Sunghoon shook his head, pulling you impossibly closer. “It’s not just the haircut. It’s you. It’s always been you.” He laughed breathlessly, pressing another quick kiss to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until you were giggling uncontrollably and hiding your face in his chest. God. He loved you so much it hurt. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing you in, and mumbled, “I think dinner’s gonna have to wait a little longer.” You only laughed harder, and Sunghoon smiled so wide it made his cheeks ache. He held you there for a moment, your heart beating against his, his hands stroking gently through your freshly cut hair before you pulled back, looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. His mouth moved against yours with slow, heady urgency, coaxing little gasps from you that made him grin against your lips. You shifted, standing on your toes to kiss him back harder, and he groaned quietly in approval, his fingers flexing where they held you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sunghoon knew he should slow down, but it was so hard when you were right here in your shared kitchen, wrapped around him. He kissed you until both of you were dizzy, until your giggles had melted into soft whimpers against his lips. And even then, he only pulled away reluctantly, trailing kisses along your jaw, your temple, savoring every second, every inch of you. When he finally leaned back enough to look at you, your cheeks were flushed, your lips kiss-swollen, and your eyes shining up at him like he hung the stars. You both just stood there, breathing each other in, hearts racing, faces so close he could feel your every exhale. “I guess… you like the haircut?” you teased softly, breathless. Sunghoon laughed, low and breathy, his thumb brushing the edge of your smile. “Like doesn’t even cover it, baby.” He kissed you again, gentler now. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into your skin. “You’re so perfect it’s actually unfair.” And when you hid your face in his chest, giggling and overwhelmed, Sunghoon just held you tighter, knowing in his bones that he never wanted to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

──────────────────────

The jewelry store was quiet except for the soft hum of the lights above and the occasional muted conversation between staff and customers. Sunghoon stood at the counter, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his heart hammering against his ribs. In front of him, under the glass, sat dozens of glittering rings, each one more beautiful than the last. And somehow, none of them felt good enough. “She’s gonna love whatever you pick, you know that, right?” Heeseung’s voice cut through his swirling thoughts. Sunghoon looked over at him, managing a weak laugh. “Yeah. I know. I’m just-” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I want it to be perfect.” Heeseung leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a little half-smile. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, nudging Sunghoon lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been together forever. She’s already picked you, dumbass. She would probably marry you in a paper ring.” Sunghoon huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was right. You probably would. Heeseung tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. “Remember what I told you? Way back when? If you played your cards right, those monkey stickers would stay forever?” He grinned. “Guess what, bro? You played ‘em right. Your little monkey’s still around.” Sunghoon’s chest tightened at the nickname. You didn’t need the sticker charts anymore, not for years now. But somehow Heeseung still teasingly called you ‘monkey,’. Sunghoon still has that calender with the many different stickers in a little box in his closet. He took it out from time to time. Years had passed, but in Sunghoon’s mind, it felt like time had both flown by and stood still all at once. He was no longer just the aspiring skater, chasing a dream. He had made it. His name was known in the skating world now. He had won the olympics, not once but twice. And through it all, you had been there. Sunghoon smiled down at the glass, a lump growing in his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’s still here.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mind drifted back to those small moments he spend with you. Those quiet nights on the sofa, wathcing silly dramas, talking, sleeping together, first in your small shared student apartment, then one in Busan, and now the one in your apartment near the olympia park. He had seen you blossom–recovering, becoming the strong, beautiful woman you were today. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Heeseung. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything back then.”

Heeseung shrugged, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to. Just watching the two of you… that’s enough, man.” He nodded at the rings. “You’ve both earned this. All of it. It’s about time you made her your forever. Now hurry up and pick one so you can make it official already. Before I start crying or something, and then we’ll both be embarrassed.” Sunghoon laughed, and leaned closer to the glass, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge. One particular ring caught his eye. Simple. Elegant. Not flashy, but quietly beautiful. Just like you. He pointed at it. “That one.” His voice was firm, certain. “That’s the one.”

Heeseung whistled low under his breath. “Oh it's pretty. Monkey’s gonna lose her mind.” Sunghoon grinned. He could already imagine it, your hands trembling as he slipped the ring onto your finger, your watery smile, the way you’d throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He could picture every second of it. “She’s my everything,” Sunghoon said quietly, almost to himself. Heeseung clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re hers. Always have been.” This was it. The start of your forever. A forever he had fought for, that you both had earned with every smile, every late-night talk, every sticker on that old calendar.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands @ikeumina @softchannie @sirens-dreams @schmocolateschmchip @vviolynn @nishiimuraka @enhalxvr @ijustreallylike2read @enhastolemyheart @wintereals @planetmarlowe @baeeeeah @wonzzziezzzz @mochamvgz @lovtaesunu @makeme1cream @stars4jo @vviolynn @lylaloopsie @meimeiyh @motherscrustytoenailclippings @haerni @sooberriesx @nishiimuraka (did this actually work? Somehow I can’t use any of the links from the tags?)

ᝰ an. Its done. 87.583 words later. I am so happy with how this turned out. I also did infact not sleep or do my uni stuff for the last week, because I so desperately wanted to finish this and see what my brain would be coimng up with. The quality probably suffered a bit under my sleep deprived brain working on this... I actually forgot to write a few scenes I planned to include, but I'll probably release them as one shots at one point. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story and waiting for the final parts. It has been a long ride. ₊ ⊹  

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

and that’s how it works; that’s how you get the girl

ft; haruka sakura, hayate suo, umemiya hajime

synopsis ; how did they get the girl?

cw ; violence (idek if this is needed since it's wbk but ykw screw it), fem!reader, swearing, use of (y/n), first time writing for wbk so tell me if this is shit

now playing ; how you get the girl - taylor swift

haruka sakura

haruka sakura got the girl by standing outside of your apartment in the rain for an entire hour because you got mad at him.

actually, he had gotten mad at you first. you doted on him and took care of him excessively while he was injured after a fight, and you refused to go home despite the fact that it was getting late and dark out. sakura knew that your apartment was only a few hours away, but he didn't see why you would be wasting your time on taking care of him when he could do it perfectly fine himself.

“you're pissing me off. i already said, i can just sleep this thing off. you're bothering me right now; go away. you're being annoying.” sakura cringed as the words replayed over and over again in his mind. when he first said it, he didn't think too much of it. but now? geez, if you had said those same things back to him, he would probably be having a way worse reaction than you.

you’ve been giving him the silent treatment for thirty-seven hours, twenty-six minutes, and thirteen seconds. not that he was counting. nope, he definitely wasn't counting. definitely not. he's probably checked his phone a thousand times today already, just waiting for a single text message from you; but none was found.

maybe he thought that this was a genuinely bright idea, because suo and nirei certainly didn't. maybe he really was just that desperate to see you again and for you to forgive him. maybe he's just plain stupid. yeah, probably the last one, but right after school ended, he stormed to your apartment complex as quickly as he could, ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door a multitude of times.

no response.

he knew you were in there; you always went straight back to your apartment right after school. “hey, i know you're in there. let me in.” he barely managed a slightly convincing calm voice, but he was panicking inside. he really didn't want you to ignore him forever. he really didn't want you to leave him. not when you meant so much to him.

it began to rain rather quickly. first, it was just a few droplets landing on his hair and gliding down his nose. but soon enough, his entire body was drenched in rain. he sneezed a few times, but his feet never once left it's location of standing in front of your apartment.

this was unlike him. he shouldn't be doing this. he would never do this for anyone else, so why you? his fists clenched as he heard the first clap of thunder; he should go back. but his legs refused to move, his heart refused to leave you. he glared down at his feet as if they were the reason for your anger at him.

“sakura?”

his eyes darted up, golden and gray-blue eyes meeting yours. “oh, hey,” he said dumbly, hands brushing the imaginary crumbs on his wet shirt. you both stood there awkwardly for a few moments, only the sound of rain hitting the concrete breaking the silence.

“how long have you been standing there?” you asked, a crease forming between your brows. sakura shrugged, as if he didn't spend the last hour contemplating his life and relationship with you.

“an hour.” i would've been willing to wait longer though, he thought. your eyes widened, mouth agape. you took his arm, attempting to take him inside, but sakura refused to budge.

“sorry, i was taking a nap! jeez, just come in already!” you exclaimed, trying to pull him inside with all of your body strength.

but sakura couldn't just come in. he knew himself well enough to he wouldn't feel the weight on his shoulders lift until he truly said what he needed to.

“i--i'm sorry.” his voice was slightly shaky. he probably didn't know how to properly apologize. “i didn't mean to make you upset or anything. i was just not used to it.” there. he should feel better now, right? but for some reason, the tension only weight down on him even harder. what more was there to say? he already apologized, he didn't need to--

“i love you.”

his tongue slipped before he could even control himself, and his entire face burned beet red as he practically jumped up. he didn't intend to say that, so why did his mind react faster than his body did? but you only laughed, hugging his rain-soaked torso with a blush yourself.

“i love you too.”

suo hayato

suo hayato got the girl by never judging you or being mean to you whenever you were being a clumsy idiot.

you were never particularly gifted when it came to reflexes; your hip always bumped into desk corners which left bruises, you almost stubbed your toes which had you crying out in pain, and you almost always trip or have some pretty damn close calls to tripping whenever there was some sort of object in front of you.

because of this, ever since childhood, your classmates quickly learned to avoid you. who knew if you would trip over them and break a bone and then claim that it was their fault? they didn't want to risk it.

and you did everything just to get better. you took classes, you learned online. you really were willing to do anything and everything just to stop being so damn clumsy. but it would never help; you continued to fall flat on your face multiple times.

people made fun of you. they mocked you. they made rumors about you. all because you were uncoordinated.

you've admired suo for a while. when he first came to furin and was out on patrol, you noticed how calm he was. how graceful he was even when it came to something as trivial as walking or talking. he never seemed to get too emotional, he never even got mad. not even when you slipped and fell on him.

he didn't fall down with you, but you practically slammed head first into his chest. you didn't think you could be any more embarrassed in your entire life; your face was on fire and crimson red. suo managed to grasp both of your shoulders so he wouldn't collapse with you, but you face was still in his chest. god, this was so fucking embarrassing.

“i'msosorryididn'tmeantoi'msososososososososorry--”

“it's fine. are you okay?”

did time just stop turning?

wait. he wasn't judging you, he wasn't brushing off his clothes in disgust, he wasn't looking at you with an awkward and embarrassed smile, he wasn't shoving you off, he wasn't doing anything nasty at all.

with two small sentences and one small action, your simple admiration of suo turned began to fall. you both literally and metaphorically fell for him; for this guy who you knew next to nothing about other than his personality, name, and age.

even after the incident, whenever he was out on patrol, suo always greeted you with a smile and wave. sometimes, he would even come over and talk to you for a bit. god, he was literally perfect. he moved on from the incident this quickly?

one day, one fateful day, one beautiful day, you asked suo for his number, and the best part? he gave it to you. he doesn't use his phone in front of other people, so he typed his number and name into your phone, and even gave himself a cute and funny contact photo.

he. touched. your. phone. what did you ever do to get so lucky? you must've been a saint in your past life to have so much happiness in your life.

“i literally love you,” you blabbered the moment he handed your phone back. you clasped a hand over your mouth right after, shocked at what you just say. “uh, platonically! platonically!” you exclaimed, waving your hand back and forth and front and back like a mantra.

but suo only laughed. “it's okay. the feeling's mutual. just not platonically.”

you were falling for him all over again.

hajime umemiya

hajime umemiya got the girl by being an absolute, yearning, pining, whipped, down bad, stupidly in love simp.

the funniest part to everyone was the fact that he didn't even try to hide it. everyone could tell that he was absolutely in love with you. you were an employee at cafe pothos with kotoha, and you were always helping kotoha out, especially when she was new there a few years ago.

teaching her all of the recipes--including your secret ones--, cleaning up messes that she was supposed to clean, cleaning her up and helping her with injuries whenever she got hurt…umemiya saw it all. he saw it so much that he didn't even have to interact with you or talk to you a single time to fall in love with you before even officially meeting you.

when he did officially meet you for the first time, he was so starry eyed and smiley that it seemed to the bypassers that umemiya was about to propose to you or ask you out on a date or something.

“hi! i'm umemiya, furin first year and kotoha's older brother!” he exclaimed, taking your hand and shaking it feverishly, grinning like a child on his first day of school. “it's so great to finally meet you!”

“yeah, you too.” you replied, smiling at him. “i've heard a lot about you from kotoha, umemiya. it's nice to meet you.”

it really spiraled from there. your apartment always had some sort of snack on your doorstep, along with a handwritten note to you from umemiya. whenever his vegetables bloomed, you were always the first person to receive them.

carrying things for you, calling you all night, talking to you whenever he sees you--no matter how inconvenient the time--, carrying you bridal style all the time; everyone was convinced that you were both secretly dating but were just refusing to tell them.

of course, you were aware of umemiya's feelings for you, and you returned his feelings. you really did adore him. you just didn't want to start dating in high school, so you held your feelings back and relished in his affection while trying to drop hints that you liked him back.

if you could make this last forever, you would. just you and him. no one else. no one asking when you were going to get married or how many kids you were going to have or what your plan for the future was going to be. you couldn't stop time or slow it down, of course. you would if you could though.

“umemiya! guess what, guess what?!” you exclaimed, practically bouncing to the rooftop of furin. you didn't even go to school there, but it was practically your second home because of how often you came here. your phone held high in your hand, you sat down in front of umemiya, who was planting tomatoes.

“what happened? is it good? are you happy?” umemiya asked, his gleaming like a puppy's. you held your phone in front of him, a beam paving into your face.

“i got into the university of tokyo! can you belive it? it's the most prestigious university in japan! i studied for so long for this, oh my gosh, i can't believe it, i really got in!” you were practically glowing with happiness, and your energy radiated to umemiya, who seemed just as elated as you were.

“i'm so proud of you! all of those late night study sessions really paid off!” umemiya obviously didn't do much other than emotional support during the late night calls. he was in furin for more reasons other than the fact that he was a great fighter and charismatic leader.

he suddenly froze, coming to a quick realization. “so then…you'll be leaving makochi then? you're going to go to tokyo soon, right?” he still smiled, although the glimmer in his eye was a bit dimmer now. umemiya wasn't going to college, but you were. so he won't see you for four years?

“yeah. but i'll always visit for holidays and breaks and all! and i'll make sure to text you and call you as much as i can.” you remarked, quickly sensing the slight change in atmosphere. “and i'll leave a bunch of my stuff here for you and kotoha to keep. plus, i'm leaving in a few months, so we still have time.”

umemiya nodded, though you could still sense his drop in mood. sighing and shaking your head with a smile, you cupped his face. “here,” you leaned in, and umemiya's eyes widened as his entire face flushed bright tomato red.

you just kissed him.

you pulled away just as quickly though, grinning. “that should be enough for you to hold onto, right?”

that was enough for umemiya to cling onto for an entire lifetime.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a Reddit post titled "AITAH for “training” a guy "like a dog"?" The post says "I (23F) have recently started seeing this guy (26M). he's super pretty, but he's kind of emotionally unavailable and he's alluded to an unstable/unhealthy childhood.

for context, i also work w socializing abused and neglected dogs at a local shelter and i think how much time i spend w the dogs is impacting the way i interact w ppl.

when we were on a date i started subconsciously making mental notes abt him like the notes id make abt a dog. for example, i noticed when we went out to dinner i noticed he ate really quickly and was very anti-sharing (resource guarding) but when i offered to pay and suggested dessert it seemed to make him really happy and a little calmer (food-motivated); he's really particular about his car (territorial/crate aggression); he likes when i pick where we go/what we do (eager to please), etc. so, ive started using the tactics id use on a dog w similar problems.

recently a friend (22F) pointed out that it's weird that i keep peanut M&Ms on me w the specific purpose of offering the guy one when i see him, and offering them again whenever i can tell he feels vulnerable. she said that im being an asshole bc he's a person, not a dog so i shouldn't be “training him like one.”

i don't think that's fair, im not trying to control him or anything, i just want him to feel comfortable w me the same way i need the animals im helping to be comfortable w me. humans and animals aren't THAT diff after all, we all just want to feel safe and cared for. the guy hasn't noticed yet as far as i can tell. the problem is, my “technique” is yielding really positive results.

AITAH? should i stop?"]

[Two screenshots of an update post or edit, which say, "UPDATES/ CLARIFICATIONS

for everyone asking me if i've seen the big bang theory ep w this plotline: i have not

for everyone saying they think i am autistic: probably, yeah. i haven't been tested but maybe i should

i do not have loose m&ms in my pocket bc then they'd get all melty and gross — i keep them in a bag in my purse

ik the title was clickbait-y so i want to make some things clear. i didn't think of it as “training" til my friend said it was like i was training him, and that made me feel weird (and it's why i made the post)

i am not and never have been trying to "modify" behavior. what i noticed in him and what i notice in animals were stress responses. we only get aggressive over our food if we believe someone's gonna take it away. we get defensive over our spaces if we reasonably feel like they'll be violated. applies to both animals and ppl. i was trying to establish trust the way i best know how to lol

if he never shared fries and never wanted to park next to a car w wide doors again, that'd be fine w me tbh. i know he's not a dog, so he's not at risk of being euthanized or something]

["ON TO THE UPDATE PROPER YAY!

so, to all the ppl who told me i should tell him what im doing — you were right and that's what i did. turns out i was VERY WRONG abt him not noticing what i was doing — he apparently put two and two together pretty quickly after i started doing it. he didn't tell me he was on to me tho, bc he liked it and was worried id get embarrassed and stop if i knew that he knew. so we talked it out and it ended up not being a very big deal at all and im probably gonna keep having m&ms bc they're good. that's all i got for yall lol"]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[stevesgother]

i'm sure this has been said of before but just hear me out

you, who's not quite as close with steve harrington has some of his other friends but still you're still friendly nonetheless.

you had been there when billy hargrove beat him within an inch of his life. you'd driven he and the kids to the tunnels. shared trauma, but that was really it.

steve, who has had vivid nightmares since the fall of 84', decides that one night his house is too empty, and he feels too alone, and he needs to call someone.

robin has an early shift, nancy is out of the question for obvious reasons as well as jonathan. all that leaves is you.

so he dials your number into his landline with shaking fingers just before he starts to really hyperventilate. for it being the middle of the night, you sound much more awake than he thought you would. he can't seem to get the words out, so you finish his question for him:

"you need me to come over?"

he nods before remembering you can't see him, "yes."

so you go over. you get him water and make him drink it. you place a cold washcloth to the back of his sweaty neck and sit with him on the edge of his bed until he feels ready to lay down again. it's a little awkward, you've never hung out together just the two of you. if you could call it that.

shoulder to shoulder on his mattress, you teach him grounding exercises. five things he can see, four things he can touch, three things he can hear, two things he can smell and one thing he can taste. he develops a habit of fidgeting with your fingers until he falls back asleep.

then he calls you again two weeks later, asking the same thing. and then again the week after that. you find yourself staying the night at steve harrington's house upwards of three times a week at one point.

and if you're being honest? it helps you too. he wasn't the only one suffering from night terrors, the difference being that you had people. steve barely did.

it gets to the point where he doesn't have to ask anymore. you start showing up at his house with a packed bag, he just smiles and steps aside once he's opened the door.

sometimes you show up around dinner time with pizza or chinese food and you guys watch movies until your eyelids feel too heavy to continue. one day, doing exactly that, you realize you that you wouldn't rather be spending your time with anyone else.

steve's bitching about his parents a few months later. saying how unfair it is that they want him to move out of a house that they hardly even live in. you feel his pain: living with your parents may be monetarily free, but you're paying with your sanity.

"well, maybe we could find an apartment and split the rent?"

so you do. you don't bother with two bedrooms; you hadn't spent a night not sleeping in the same bed for six months now so why bother with the higher rent?

and all your friends think you're insane and they don't understand the dynamic between the two of you because you're also...not dating? not that you've never thought about it, i mean who wouldn't right? look at him for christ's sake, and he is so thoughtful.

but it's whatever! because you're best friends and you help each other cope with your shared ptsd and nightmares and you cuddle when you sleep and play with each other's hair and designate wednesdays to watch movies and eat greasy food and leave little notes around your apartment for the other to find platonically. duh.

[inseobts]

Stupid Cupid

nami x fem!reader

you’ve been hopelessly in love with nami, convinced cupid hates you and she’d never return your feelings.

a/n: sorry but it was about damn time I wrote something for my girl (>/////<) ♡

words count: 1.7k

tags: slow burn, internalized angst but actually fluff, emotional tension, lgbt+, pining, humor

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You are in love with Nami.

Painfully, hopelessly, pathetically in love.

And it sucks.

She’s smart, brave, a little scary in the best way. She could kill a man with her stare, but she’s also soft when she wants to be. Like when she’s looking at maps under the lantern light. Or laughing with Robin. Or teasing Luffy when he steals her tangerines.

You’d die for her. Not even in a dramatic way. Just like, “Hey, Nami needs something? Cool. I’ll jump into the sea with bricks tied to my ankles.”

The worst part?

She’s so comfortable around you. So casual. So open. She links arms with you when you walk through towns. She tucks your hair behind your ear when it gets in your face. She calls you cute when you wear new clothes.

You almost explode every time.

But she doesn’t mean it like that. How could she?

In times like this you envy Sanji so much. He gets to flirt. Not seriously, but still. He’s allowed to. He’s a guy.

You’re not.

You don’t even know if she likes girls. That’s not something the strawhats usually talk about.

And even if she does... she’s Nami.

And you’re just… you.

You’re the girl who can barely meet her eyes some days. The one who pretends she’s cool and chill and not constantly thinking about what Nami’s lips would feel like. (They look soft. Too soft. It’s torture.)

You lie awake some nights thinking about it. About telling her. About being honest. And then you imagine the look on her face if you did.

The confusion. The awkward silence. Maybe the pity.

And then you imagine what comes next: things being weird. Nami keeping her distance. You ruining everything.

So no. You don’t say a word.

You’re sitting on the deck one evening, watching the sunset. Trying not to think about her. Failing, obviously.

“Hey,” Nami says, coming up behind you “You okay?”

You stiffen “Yep. Totally. Great.”

She raises an eyebrow and sits next to you, close enough that your knees touch “You sure? You’ve been kinda weird lately.”

“I’m always weird.”

She laughs “True, but this is a new kind of weird. Sad weird.”

You force a smile “I’m fine, really.”

She nudges you with her elbow “Tell me what’s going on. I know something’s up.”

You look at her and immediately regret it. Her face is too pretty in this light. Her eyes are too kind.

You panic.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, standing up “Just tired. Gonna head in.”

“Wait—” she starts, but you’re already walking away.

You don’t see the way her smile fades.

You spend the next two days avoiding Nami like she’s a sea king with a personal grudge.

It’s not subtle. Not even a little. You switch seats at lunch. You fake naps when she walks into the room. You literally jumped into the ocean yesterday to avoid her asking if you wanted to join a card game.

(Chopper was very concerned. Luffy thought it was a training exercise.)

And through it all, Nami just watches you with this look. Not angry. Not confused, even. Just… thoughtful.

You hate it.

You’re halfway through hanging laundry up on the line when you feel someone watching you. You turn.

Zoro’s leaning against the rail, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“What?” you ask.

He doesn’t move “You got a problem with Nami?”

Your heart leaps into your throat “What? No. Why?”

“You’ve been acting like she’s contagious.”

“I—I’m just tired.”

“You’re always tired. Doesn’t mean you jump off the damn ship.”

You glare at him “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he says “You’re just annoying when you’re mopey.”

“Wow. Thanks for the concern.”

He sighs like he’s being deeply inconvenienced “Look. If you like her, just tell her.”

You freeze.

He raises an eyebrow “You do, don’t you?”

You want to scream “How do you know that?!”

“I have one eye but I still can see,” he says, like it’s obvious “Also, you blush every time she breathes in your direction.”

You bury your face in your hands “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not Sanji,” he says, rolling his eyes “I’m not gonna go crying into a wine bottle about it.”

“…Thanks?”

He shrugs “Anyway, just say something. Or stop acting like she ran over your dog.”

You stare at him “Do you even know if she likes girls?”

“No idea.”

“Then why would I say something?!”

He shrugs again “You’re miserable now. Worst case, you’re still miserable but at least you stop acting like a ghost. Best case, you get the girl. Whatever.”

You blink at him “…That’s your idea of advice?”

“Pretty good, right?” he says, and walks away like he just solved world hunger.

You groan into the towel in your hands.

He’s not wrong, but also, he is the worst.

You glance toward the deck below, where Nami is talking with Robin, laughing again. The sound makes your stomach flip.

You want to tell her. But you also want to crawl into the laundry basket and live there forever.

Thanks a lot, Zoro.

You’re not eavesdropping.

You’re just walking by with perfect timing. While carrying plates to the kitchen.

And if you just happen to pause by the door when you hear Nami’s voice? That’s not your fault. The door is not fully closed.

“…is sweet,” she’s saying “A little awkward, but in a cute way.”

You stop breathing.

Robin hums “I noticed. You’re always smiling.”

Your grip tightens on the plates.

“Don’t start,” Nami says, but she’s laughing “I’m not used to someone being so… open, I guess. It’s kind of nice.”

Robin’s voice is warm “Sounds like you like it.”

“Maybe I do like... him” Nami says, and your heart snaps clean in two.

You turn and walk away, fast. You’re not crying. You’re not.

You don’t even know who she’s talking about. Could be Sanji. Could be some random guy from the last island. But it doesn’t matter.

It’s not you.

It was never going to be you.

You’re so stupid.

Stupid for hoping. Stupid for dreaming. Stupid for letting Zoro put ideas in your head.

That night, you stay in your bunk. You fake sleep when Nami passes by. You hear her pause. Then her footsteps leave again.

You feel sick.

The next day you avoid her again. You’re not even subtle anymore. You’re tired of even think about some excuses. You change directions when she comes near. You leave rooms she walks into. You pretend not to hear when she calls your name.

Eventually, she’s had enough.

“Hey,” she says, cornering you by the tangerine trees “What is going on with you?”

You stare at her like a deer caught in sunlight “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re avoiding me like I’ve grown fangs.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really?” she snaps “So the last days were just a coincidence?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Try again “I just figured you’d rather not hang out with me.”

“Why would you think that?”

You glance away “I heard you talking to Robin.”

She pauses “…Okay?”

“You said you liked someone.”

Nami frowns “And?”

You force a laugh “I just wanted to leave you and Sanji alone.”

She stares at you for a long second “You... You really thought I meant Sanji?”

You blink “You didn’t?”

She shakes her head, almost amused “No. I meant you, dumbass.”

Silence.

The birds go quiet. The waves stop. The world pauses.

“…What?”

She folds her arms, tilts her head “You’re awkward. You never say what you’re thinking but your actions are really obvious. You jump off boats to avoid me. It’s kind of charming.”

You’re frozen “But… you said he.”

She smirks “In that moment I noticed you were there. I kinda panicked and so I said 'he' to mess with you.”

Your jaw drops “You what?!”

“You made it so obvious,” she says, laughing now “You blush every time I talk. You flinch when I touch your arm. It’s either fear or a crush, and you’re not scared of me.”

You are definitely crying now.

“I thought—” your voice breaks “I thought you’d never like me. I didn’t even know if you liked girls.”

“I like you,” she says, softer now “Is that clear enough now?”

You nod, because words aren’t working.

Then, just to really kill you, she leans in and kisses you.

Right on the mouth.

And yeah, her lips are exactly as soft as you imagined.

When she pulls back, your heart’s beating in your throat.

“Still think Cupid sucks?” she asks.

“…Maybe just a little less.”

Dinner that night is louder than usual.

Luffy’s talking with his mouth full, Sanji’s spinning plates like a circus act, and Franky’s trying to convince Chopper to drink something that is definitely glowing.

But none of that matters. Because you’re sitting beside Nami. Not across from her. Not diagonally. Right beside her. And your hands are linked under the table.

The crew already knows.

It’s not like you made an announcement or anything, but Zoro raised an eyebrow when you sat down, and Robin gave you a look. Then Luffy screamed, “YOU KISSED Y/N?!” and that was that.

You half expected Sanji to faint. Instead, he just sighed deeply and said, “Figures. Nami-swan has taste.”

Which was… weirdly supportive of him?

Anyway, the chaos has died down now. Kind of.

Until Usopp stands up dramatically, clears his throat, and starts pacing.

“Oh no” you mutter. Nami grins beside you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Usopp says, voice rising with flair, “let me tell you the tragic tale… of Stupid Cupid!”

Everyone groans. Luffy is already laughing. You go pale.

Usopp cups his hands around his heart and wails, “Oh Nami, she’s so perfect, she’s so soft, I’ll never be good enough, Cupid you SUCK—”

Luffy laughs so hard he chokes. Chopper pats his back while wheezing.

Even Zoro smirks.

You cover your face with your hands “I hate all of you.”

“She’s looking at me! Abort mission!” Usopp yells, fake-diving under the table “Ocean, take me now!”

“Taxes!” Chopper calls out kicking his feet.

“I LOVE HER BUT I’LL DIE FIRST BEFORE I SAY IT—” Usopp continues dramatically.

You’re about to crawl under the table for real when something stops you. A hand sliding into yours.

You turn your head and Nami is smiling at you.

Not laughing. Not teasing. Just smiling, soft and sure and warm. Like you’re hers and you are.

So you take a deep breath, squeeze her hand back, and laugh.

Because yeah. Maybe Cupid has terrible aim. Maybe you were a wreck. Maybe everyone did know.

But it doesn’t matter.

You’re with her now and you’re okay. You're happy.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Okay imagine the reader has a crush on Buck and she knows how much he loves his fun facts so as a way to talk to him more she looks up some fun facts she can share with him! Like maybe their eating dinner on shift or something and he starts talking about something and she can add on to his fun facts with her own fun facts and they just nerd out together 🥰🥰

Ask and you shall receive! Any excuse to write about Buck and his fun facts.

The table is full of firefighters as you all eat the meal that Bobby has prepared. You were lucky enough to get a spot beside Buck, feeling nothing but giddy about being able to tell him the fun facts you stayed up way too late researching.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to speak to him. You talk to him all the time. Well, about work. And you like talking to him about the job you share. You like talking to him about anything. But this will just be something between the two of you.

You watch him twirl some spaghetti on his fork and a fact somehow comes to your brain as his pretty blue eyes lock on yours. The eye contact goes on for far too long, but neither of you seem to want to break it.

“D-” you try to get out the first word of your question, feeling so nervous under Buck’s gaze.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning fully to face you, leaning closer so he can hear you better. He knows how quiet you are when you speak but he thinks it's cute. And maybe he just likes to be able to be close to you, the way your breath tickles his ear when you whisper into it.

Buck lets you take your time, not wanting to rush you which he notices too many of the other firefighters in the station seem to do. He hates it. He feels super protective of you and will stand up to anyone he says anything bad about you.

“Did you know that spaghetti is actually Chinese and not Italian?” You ask, your voice a bit louder than normal and he likes seeing this confident side of you. Buck actually did already know that, but he’s going to pretend like he doesn’t because he wants to hear you tell him the rest.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head. “Tell me more.”

You tell him all about the many articles that you read about the subject and he’s fascinated, hooked on every single word that leaves your lips. He swears he even sees you smile.

You spend the rest of dinner and even the time you’re in the engine exchanging fun facts. You’re side by side, giggling at each other, somehow in your own little world, like the other people around you don’t exist.

And after your long shift, still going back and forth, Buck decides that he doesn’t want this to end, so he invites you back to his apartment where you share even more facts, but about yourselves, cuddled up in his bed until you both eventually fall asleep.

[everythingmp3]

can’t get enough

adult!Van x fem!reader

living with your girlfriend has many upsides: spending slow mornings together, sharing a sense of home, falling asleep in her arms, and the fact that shes there to offer you relief when youre feeling needier than usual, when you keep wanting more and she keeps giving in

authors note: I wont lie, this one came from me thinking about how certain phases of your cycle can make you feel crazy, so it’s heavier on the smut than usual, but there’s a decent amount of plot too, that’s why it’s around 9k! hope you enjoy <3

warnings: smut (reader receiving)

you couldn´t have asked for a better kind of Sunday.

you were blessed with beautiful early spring weather, Van´s was apartment flooded by golden afternoon light, which intensified the feeling of it being your safe haven. you´d spent the early hours of the day doing nothing but delight in each other´s presence, savoring all those hours of freedom and ease.

even though you´d been dating her for nearly seven months by that point, you were in a new kind of honeymoon phase, since you had moved into her apartment only about a month before, which made it one of the first weekends of you living together as a couple. 

up until that point, it had been nothing but lovely, all of the little anxious thoughts that had gotten to you during the moving process - like the fear that you´d start getting on each other´s nerves or lose some of that intense spark you´d felt before - proving to be completely unwarranted because if anything you only fell more deeply in love when you finally got to see the other person during moments where they felt unwatched, like when Van hummed a song to herself while making coffee, or when you took a nap on the couch in her clothes and she almost melted on the spot when she walked in on it. 

none of it was truly surprising considering how lovestruck you both still felt even half a year into your relationship, just as passionate as that night you´d first kissed like you were scared that you´d just dreamed each other up, clinging on for dear life. 

one of the things that Van did for you before you moved in, was that she´d put a little desk in her bedroom for you to use whenever you had assignments to write and needed to be by yourself, in a separate space, in order not to get distracted by her presence nearby. 

that Sunday afternoon, you had an essay to finish, so you were seated at the desk, staring outside of the bedroom window, unable to concentrate, unable to write as much as a single word, silently losing your mind due to one pressing issue: you were horny out of your mind.

it was the kind of horniness that simply would not subside, for hours and hours, that could get you worked up just from a simple thought, that could wreck you just from a minute of fantasizing, so you found yourself almost shaking with need, breathing unevenly, acutely aware that jerking off would not relieve you of the craving that was eating you from the inside out. 

moving in together naturally meant that you and Van started having sex more than before, it was inevitable with all that access to each other that you followed your instincts whenever they took a hold of you, no matter what time of day or what you were both supposed to be doing instead, it was exciting to share that new domestic kind of sexuality, for Van especially, since few things turned her on more than being pursued and corned by you. sharing a living space with you gave her that tingling sense of anticipation, the thrill of not knowing when she might feel your hand slide under her shirt, your breath on her neck, your wordless way of saying “give into me”, which she did, every time, often just waiting to surrender, to go pliant under your touch, to do whatever you wanted. 

you fell into a comfortable rhythm, which usually stayed somewhat the same, except for the days where you truly couldn´t keep your hands of each other and fucking turned into an all-day thing, round after round after round while abandoning whatever it was that you´d told yourself you would get done that day, not a care in the world about anything but devouring each other only to starve again within no time, barely giving your bodies time to recover, leaving you entirely spent by nightfall, but happily so. 

that day was one of those days, especially on your part. it started right after you woke up. it took you about a minute of laying next to her and watching her stir until you started feeling her up, kissing her neck, pushing her shirt up to feel her chest, which turned into a lazy, sensual hour of touching and eventually getting each other off, her hand staying between your thighs until you stopped whining for more. after breakfast, you snuggled up on the couch, which turned into kissing, which turned into making out, a proper heavy-breathing, sloppy, borderline dry-humping make-out session, the kind that she never allowed herself with previous lovers, addicted to every part of it, the way you caressed her hair, the way you grabbed her jaw whenever you needed to deepen the kiss, the way you´d sometimes pull back to kiss her face in a rush of affection before returning your lips to hers, every part of it, so that morning you made out for ages until you caved again and fucked on the couch for a while, laying there breathless and swollen-lipped for a decent amount of time afterwards, enjoying the luxury of having a morning all to yourself, to do whatever you pleased, or rather, whoever you pleased. a few hours of being outside, eating lunch, and getting things done around the apartment passed, until it was around 4pm and Van offered to give you head when she sensed how riled up you still were, really taking her time with it, drawing it out until you were unsure how much more you could take, which ended in you riding her face until you had to tap out, ruined by the sight of her beautiful smile as she laid there with her mouth open, glistening in the sunlight, licking her lips like she hadn´t just gotten smothered by that taste.

in moments like that she was almost in shock about just how deep your need for her seemed to be able to run, seemingly no amount of her touch enough to make you wish she´d stop. she knew in her heart that she could´ve insisted on having you again and again and again that day without meeting any kind of hesitancy, and the thought alone made her feel high on adoration for you, the way you´d come into her life and suddenly made her feel so desirable again, after years of feeling like a shell of herself, empty, unappealing. 

as you were sitting at your desk, haunted by the fresh memory of her devoted touch, your skin still burning where her fingertips had dug in to hold you in place, you told yourself to leave her alone and get to work, but nothing helped, you were a mess, so around fifteen minutes after you´d left her alone in the living room with the words “okay, I´m gonna go get this thing done” you admitted defeat and walked back out into the living space, too desperate for more of her to spend another second away from her. 

Van was sitting on the couch, reading her book, blissfully unaware of the hunger her girlfriend was eyeing her with. you took a second just to watch her from where you were standing, her freshly washed hair glowing like flames in a way that made you want to bury your nose in it and take the deepest breath, the way you often did at night when you were the big spoon. 

eventually, you got over yourself and quietly walked over to her. at first, she didn´t react, so you flopped down next to her on the couch and watched her from the side as she pretended not to notice, her eyes still cast down, her smile giving away that she wasn´t reading at all, that she was just waiting for you to say something, to admit why you were not doing what you were supposed to, but after a moment she dropped her book and turned her body to face you directly with a fond, amused expression, almost like a parent who´d caught their child staying up way past bedtime. 

“yes, can I help you, darling?” she said, her tone overly sweet, clearly teasing you about your inability to stay away. “yes…” you answered, your tone quieter and huskier than intended, strained by your obvious pressing need, it was clear what you wanted, but she pretended not to notice, still messing with you a bit when she cocked her head and asked “you done with your essay already?”. 

you shook your head, “no, but it´s not due til tomorrow” it wasn´t a lie, but she was too clever to fall for it “well, we have plans tomorrow night, so, that´s no excuse”. you didn´t laugh, you were too riled up to have any humor, which was not the case too often, so seeing you sit there like that, pouting, made her reach out and caress your knee while laughing, “hey, you okay there?”. 

her touch was enough for you to lose all ability to restrain yourself, so you sighed “no, no not at all.. I need you so bad..” while climbing over and getting half on her lap to grab her neck, breathing against her face then, trying your best to persuade her, your body basically vibrating with need as she wrapped her arms around your back and felt you cling to her, which got a labored breath out of Van, the way your weight pressed down against her, the feeling of being climbed like that. she searched your eyes and said “again already? it´s barely been an hour”, she was clearly baiting you to flatter her a bit, but you were glad to do it, so you nodded and gave her a brief but heartfelt kiss “yeah I know…can´t help it…”. 

she could tell that you were genuinely already just as worked up as before, so she cooed “poor thing, you´re really going through it today, aren´t you?”, aware that the faux-mocking would only rile you up more, so she used the moment to her advantage and went in for the kill, kissing your neck while slipping her hands under your shirt, an undignified sound leaving you because the way she moved her lips all over your pulse-point didn´t alleviate you from your ache, it only deepened it, to a worrying degree, each wet kiss making you squirm and bite your lip in an effort to stay quiet while your nails dug into her skin, jerking forward on her lap, chasing friction.

you heard a quiet laugh as she felt you shiver all over and pulled away, whispering “so needy today..”, no malice to her words at all, just her usual way of using foreplay to seem composed, because the second you actually got down to it, she could never pretend to be anything but weak in the knees for you, a slave to your every wish, so you let it slide, her momentary cockiness, only nodding, unable to deny that you were in fact the picture of neediness right then. 

Van pulled back and looked at you, holding your face in her hands, gently, stroking your cheeks “I should tell you to get back to your work, you know” she mused. you both knew that there was no world in which she could ever deny you, but even just the thought of stopping right then made a wave of terror wash over you, so you said “no” a bit sharper than intended, “no?” she echoed, grinning, moving her hands from your face to your shoulders.

“please just.. I don´t need much baby, I´ll be quick, please, only a few minutes” you were out of your mind, usually you wouldn´t have bargained for sex with her, you would´ve made a joke or been more playful about it, but you were sucked up in such a vortex of desire that you couldn´t speak or think the way you normally would, which made Van feel a kind of power that wasn´t unpleasant, still, she wasn´t one to be sadistic, so she dropped the teasing “hm, well I think I can do better than just a few minutes”. 

“yeah?” you asked with bright eyes, but it wasn´t a surprise, Van was not the type for quick aggressive sex, rushed attempts at getting off, she was a romantic at heart, especially in bed, so the most satisfying intimacy for her was the kind both you and her could savor, draw out, drown out time and space with, so she gestured for you to get up and grabbed your hand to lead you back to the bedroom, endeared by the way your eyes seemed to sparkle at her suggestion, “yes, come on, let me see what I can do for you”. as you let her tug you forward you felt anticipatory relief from what was about to happen, and a rush of heat from her formal way of phrasing it, as if she was talking about a business offer, not you, getting ruined by her.

you were only wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt without a bra, so within seconds you were undressed, unwilling to play it cool or act coy, your underwear already discarded on the floor when Van was still peeling off her flannel and her jeans, leaving her in her underwear and a thin white tank top as she crawled up on the bed where you´d already found your place. 

Van was about to get between your legs but you beckoned her closer“wait no, come here”, eager to kiss her, so she smiled and obliged, letting you pull her into a deep and hungry kiss, melting into it for a second, a pleased groan when you kept going and going, lavishing her with the kind of kisses that one might give a lover after having missed them for weeks, when it had been just an hour since you´d last made out. she seemed surprised, judging by the moan stuck in her throat, but it was nothing new, no amount of time spent with her seemed to ever make you feel like you had gotten enough of her lips, the softness, the warmth, the way she tasted, but after a while you grew too hot and separated, panting, nodding as if to say “okay, now you can get down there”, which she did, gladly, kissing a line all the way from the hollow of your throat to your lower stomach, working you up even more, which made you brace yourself on your elbows to watch her, breathing heavy, parting your legs wider to give her space, to invite her, impatient, a sudden throbbing sensation where you where dying to feel the heat of her mouth once more.

Van looked up at you and let out a quiet, vaguely pitying “ohh baby” when she saw how helpless you looked, how you couldn´t even smile because you were so sick with desire, which made her feel equal parts protective and possessive, an acute sense of “only I get to see her like this, nobody else”. it stirred something deep within her, so she leaned in and kissed your inner thigh feverishly, licked over it, bit down ever so lightly, marked her territory before she moved up and reached out to drag her fingers over your cunt to part you, a high-pitched whimper from you as she took a moment to appreciate how wet you´d already gotten for her. after a moment of playing with you, she leaned in and kissed the outside area, slowly dipped her tongue between your folds, met by that taste she could never tire of, a moan from her that matched yours as you laid back and felt her start to move her tongue up and down in long, self-indulgent strokes, over and over, gripping your thighs and getting her face all up in you, the way she always did, clearly never waiting for your approval or praise but just enjoying herself so deeply that it was a given you were too, heavily making out with your cunt, lewd sounds that almost drowned out the whimpers you couldn´t keep in. 

after a while of unravelling you, she focused only on your clit, relentlessly, applying just enough pressure to satisfy, while making you whine for more, faint, muffled “hmm” sounds coming from her as the tip of her tongue flicked over you again and again, a rhythm that you matched by rocking your hips up to meet her mouth, which only made her go harder. 

when she really loved someone, the way she loved you, she found a place of worship between her lovers legs, poured all of her feelings into the act of giving head, which was why you were addicted, the same way she was, both of you oftentimes taking turns multiple times in one night until your jaws hurt. in that moment, it was no different, you were all hers, moaning and sighing praises as she kept going, your hands finding their way into her hair as you lifted your upper body a bit to be able to watch, lovingly caressing the back of her head as you looked down at her and felt a tightening ache at your core, your breathing even more rapid from the sight of her eating, the divine perversity of it, a sharp breath in when she let her gaze flicker up at you and held eye-contact for a moment while you kept her trapped, your legs close to her ears, and felt her reach up to hold your hands, squeezing them in reassurance, until she could feel that you were getting close and freed her right hand again, moving her mouth away for a second, panting, chin slick with you, so she could see what she was doing as she slipped two of her fingers into you, an instant sigh of relief as you felt her inside of you, so you moaned “yeah like that..” and laid back again, fully surrendered. 

she took the cue and went to finish you off by curling her fingers up in you, hitting the spot she knew so well by then over and over, while attaching her mouth back onto you and hearing the familiar sound of your pleading and cursing, your hands clutching the sheets, your mind blank, your walls clenching around her fingers as she didn´t let up one bit and sucked on your clit until you couldn´t hold out any longer and came all over her fingers, her free hand gripping your thigh to keep you from closing your legs as she kept going all throughout your climax until your muscles finally relaxed and you let out a deep shuddering sigh, shaking, high on the orgasm in a way that left you needing more, much more. one wouldn´t be enough, even while you were still recovering from the intense release, your body was already calling for the same thing again, a tremor taking you over that would not subside, Van could tell, so she caressed you and kissed your leg to catch a small break, before she pushed her messed up hair out of her face, which made you move your head to see it and marvel at her, the beauty of her in that moment, her face all flushed, her lips raw and red, a glow that made her look like she´d just come as well, which knowing her, perhaps she had, it had happened before, that she´d finished just from pleasing you. 

“.. you´re so pretty…” you sighed, still breathless, which made her grin and move up to kiss you, softly, a faint residue of your taste hitting you, her face so hot that it radiated onto yours, both of you ready to push it further, to look even more wrecked by the end. 

you needed more, badly, the throbbing wouldn´t go away, nothing would help, so you felt the urge to take her strap. you didn´t do it too often, it was something you reserved for when either or both of you wanted to be fucked so badly that fingers wouldn´t suffice anymore, which wasn´t every time, but right then, you were in that state, and a shared look between you was enough to communicate, you didn´t even have to ask, but still, she made sure, “need a bit more than that, don´t you?”, so you nodded “yeah.. please”, and the return of your begging was enough to make her need it as well, to see you get what you were craving, to watch you come again, but harder than before, it was ringing in her ears then, the memory of how you´d sounded the last time she´d fucked you that way. 

before she got up from the bed, she moved your hand between your legs and smiled devilishly as she whispered “go on, touch yourself a bit, feel how wet you are” a pause before she added “how ready” the last word said in a low tone that made you choke up on your own spit almost because it was unlike her, to speak like that, and it was clear she said it half-jokingly, as if she was putting on a different voice than her own, but still, it thrilled you, to have her insinuate that your body was just waiting for her to invade it, which it was, had been all day. 

you used your fingers to apply just enough pressure to keep yourself worked up as you watched her red rid of her remaining clothes, unwilling to deny herself the feeling of being flush against her lover, her back turned to you, your gaze lingering on her legs, the soft, delicate nature of them that contrasted her tough exterior, a point of obsession for you, since only you got to see her legs fully in the nude. it was a ritual for you to kiss her calves, her knees, her thighs, whenever you´d just finished giving her head and used the time she needed to recover to cover her lower half in kisses.

it was no different in that moment, you felt a rush of heat go to your face when you saw the contrast of the black of the harness and the paleness of her skin, some of her flesh spilling out over the straps, a sudden urge to bite into it, a shiver down your spine when you saw the aggressive hand movement of her making sure everything was truly tight enough, sitting right over her hips, around her sides, a whimpering sound as you touched yourself a bit harder then, unable to restrain yourself, which made her flip her hair back over her shoulders in a slightly cocky way as she come back to you and watched you shamelessly stare at her with that same helpless expression as before, moving over to make space for her. 

Van knew what you wanted, so she sat down next to you and patted her lap, conscious of the fact that having you on top first was ideal, not just selfishly because she wanted to get a good show, but because it gave you the freedom to tire yourself out, before being finished off by her afterwards. so, you got up and shook a little as you climbed over her and felt her hands on your sides, to steady you, both your eyes and hers cast down, watching you take the strap in your hand to guide it into yourself, carefully, which wasn´t necessary, you arousal so intense that there was no resistance whatsoever, your cunt drenched and throbbing as you sat down, feeling yourself be stretched and filled, your eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming relief, the sensation so good that you kept still for a moment to soak it up, while moving your legs to a comfortable position, one you could last in, a “hmmm” sound escaping you, which made Van smile as she tenderly caressed your back and sighed “there you go baby, that´s better, hm”. 

it turned you on to know that Van felt like it was actually her cock you were taking, so you started moving with her help, her hands travelling down to guide you a bit, deeply turned on by the fragility you exuded in that moment, the trust you placed in her, the way you put yourself in her hands in your most vulnerable state, drunk on the whimpers you let out while rocking back and forth on it, feeling the strap deep inside, your walls clenched, slicking it up as you picked up a rhythm, trembling because it had been a while since you´d taken it like that, so violently turned on that you were sick with the need to come, hard, chasing the all consuming high with blind need, the kind that doesn´t happen fast, that takes time to build up to, and Van could tell you were overly eager, at risk of rushing it, so she tried to bring you back to the present moment, to enjoy the feeling of pained pleasure, the submission to that pre-orgasm ache, so she cooed “you´re okay, shhh, easy, nice and slow, let me take my time with you” and pulled your face closer to kiss your cheek. 

you leaned forward in response and held onto her neck as you felt more secure and found a good angle, breathed against her face and heard her whispering sweet nothings to you as your clit brushed up against her in a way that made you moan louder again, your lips brushing up against her cheek, a shiver down her spine. you weren´t bouncing on it the way you might have if you hadn´t fucked all day, you were too weak for it, but you had enough energy to manage a bit of that motion, moving up and down a few inches, again and again, your juices leaking down the strap, her arms firm around your back as you kept whining and riding her, turned on by your own motion, the romantic yet pornographic feel of it, the feeling that you were performing for her, your cunt sucking the strap up easily over and over, a neverending feeling of “more, more, more” as you went a bit faster and felt a rush of confidence that made you lean back and brace yourself with your palms flat against the sheets, to show of your chest and tilt your head up to the ceiling, which allowed Van the perfect view of not just your body but the way the silicone disappeared in you, your arousal milky white against the black of the toy, her mouth open in hunger, her chest flushed pink in response, her whole body. 

you could hear her whisper “jesus.. look at you..” under her breath as she palmed your tits and watched you ride yourself into oblivion, your moans more pathetic than before, her thumbs brushing over your nipples to hear you wince in pleasure, her hands reverently moving all the way down your stomach, until they rested right above where you were getting fucked, fucking yourself, both, that thrill of being on top, the double feeling of she´s doing it to me, I´m doing it to myself.

Van was the type of lover who often preferred to use her hands and mouth on you, it was what she craved most days, the filth of having you drip all over her lips and fingers, the sensuality of it, but whenever you did end up wanting to get strapped by her, she enjoyed every little thing about it, rediscovered her eagerness to see you take more than what she could naturally fuck you with. it drove her wild, to see the way you gave in and opened yourself up, you could hear it from her heavy breathing, felt in the way her hands grabbed you wherever she could reach, worshipful, her own composure crumbling by the second, both of you letting out little curses and groans. 

eventually you needed support, so you leaned all the way forward and braced yourself against the headboard with both hands, which made your tits eyes level with her, so Van lost no time and held you in place and started sucking on your right breast, hard enough to make my cry out, the double arousal making you see stars as she closed her lips around your nipple and refused to let go, addicted to the soft feel of it, her teeth digging in for a second as you tried your best to keep up your rhythm, panting, needing release so badly that you were scared of losing your stamina, but you pushed through the intensity of being fucked and sucked on, until you whined “baby I can´t, I´m so.. fuck” unable to find the words, so Van let moved her hands to your waist and held on firmly. “I´ve got you, just keep your hands right there” she reassured you, so you did as she said, braced yourself, slowed down, allowing her to take over, which she did, thrusting up into you from below in a way that made it clear she wanted to see you come, soon, so you surrendered to the fast, deep strokes and heard the slapping sounds of your skin meeting, over and over, as you couldn´t do anything but let out moans that were matched by hers, as if she was also being fucked, both of you gone by then, high-pitched cries falling from your lips until you felt like you might cry from how hard she was hitting the right spot deep inside, so you groaned “fuck fuck I can´t I´m gonna-” choking up on the last word and shuddering just as it all crashed over you, hard, overwhelming, your entire body shaking as she kept going but eased up a bit, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you spent and breathless on top of her, your hands on her shoulders then as she caressed you, soothed you through the aftershocks, waited for you to ride it out, patient, her own breathing ragged and laced with faint whimpering sounds. 

once you felt the tremors subside a bit, you climbed off her and let out a sigh from the sudden emptiness where you were still raw, still sensitive, her hands never leaving you as you followed your urge to suck her off and licked over the side of the strap all the way up until you reached the tip, briefly taking it in your mouth, tasting yourself, drooling on it, her hand in your hair as she let out an “oh…” sound of disbelief, a shiver taking hold of her from the unexpected thrill of seeing you do that, for a second almost forgetting that it wasn´t part of her, a phantom feeling of actually having her dick sucked by you leaving her a mess then as you wiped your mouth and tried to get your bearings. 

you laid down next to her, riled up the max, the ache from before less pressing but still there, so you looked at her and whispered “please..”, which you didn´t have to say twice. Van got up and moved to kneel before you, saying “lay back and relax for me”, as she reached out to gently put a flat pillow below your hips, creating a better angle, making sure you were comfortable before she smiled down at you and saw an exhausted but happy smile being directed back at her, her heart melting at the sight, her own wetness almost matching yours by that point, so she got to it and held one of your legs up in a way that opened you wider, teasing for a second by just moving the tip over your outside area, slicking it up, until she heard an impatient “baby…” and gave in, pushing herself all the way in with one swift motion as she leaned over you, a deep groan leaving you as you were filled again, your hands on her back then, nails scratching down as she placed her hands by your head and kissed your face, your cheek, ever so softly, a maddening contrast to the deep, slow strokes she was giving you, your legs wrapped around her waist to keep her as close as possible, your chest pressed against hers, your heartbeats close, so close, a feeling of melting into one as she almost hugged you while fucking you, groaning from the effort, a deeply intimate feel to it that made every movement of her inside of you feel even more intense. 

“fuck..” you whined, her breath hot against your face as she sighed “feels good?”, “yeah so good…I love you.. so much” it just spilled out, you couldn´t contain it, the adoration for her that was threatening to tear you apart, crying from it it almost, so she moved her face to stare down at you, her beautiful flushed face, her pink lips, the glowing waves of her hair, all of it adding to your feeling of “god I am so in love with her” as she stared you with the same exact feeling written all over her face and sighed “I love you too..” right as she hit a spot in you that made the words burn not just in your heart but your cunt, body and soul ablaze with the way she was handling you, the way she used sex like that for intense passion, not aggression or dominance over you, her motions never too hard, always just the right amount of pressure - for a second you both just breathed into each other´s open mouths while listening to the “huh” sound that left you with each thrust, Van fixated on how much she adored the way getting it from her always turned you so docile and lamb-like, in awe of it all, her lips brushing yours, a deep intimacy to it, both of you staring into each other´s souls until you caved and started making out, desperately, your hands on her neck as you opened your mouth and felt your tongue against hers, in heaven then, bursting with how good it felt to have her on you, in you, while kissing like that - you couldn´t get enough of the bliss of being wrapped up in her presence like that, her perfume and and shampoo and natural musk hitting you where you were weakest, every part of you claimed by her intoxicating physicality, the same for her as she tasted and smelled and felt you, both of you refusing to let go even when you struggled to continue from how heavy your moans were getting in the way. 

eventually she changed her position a bit to have more control and grabbed your legs right under your knees to push your thighs back a bit, up towards your face, to go even deeper, which made you let out a borderline pained “ohh fuck..”, Van mesmerized by the sight of the strap moving in and out of you, using her stabile position to really fuck you, giving you a moment of just being pounded, so you rested against the pillows and took it, scared that you´d come already but holding it together to have an even more rewarding release, breathing through it, until she slowed down again, aware that switching between different speeds was what always got you, not immediate release but gradual building up to it with small setbacks until she gave it to you for good, it drove you crazy in the best way. she leaned back over you and kept your legs up with her arms and leaned down to lick over your chest, animal-like, as if she was trying to devour you, tasting your sweat, your hot skin, her hair spilling over you  as she sucked on the flesh of your tits erratically and used her hands to keep you open, both of you addicted to the filthy wet sounds that were filling the air, each move into you creating another maddening sound, the muscles in your lower stomach tight and ready to release again, your cunt overstimulated and leaking all over the strap and yourself, both of you addicted to the sensations, the primal nature of your actions, your sounds, the scent, everything about it. 

Van sounded just as pathetic as you then as she sighed “god..” and shut her eyes, as if she was praying for the strength to hold on, so you gripped her shoulders and pleaded “baby please.. I can´t” as you felt the intensity challenge what you were capable of handling, but she insisted, encouraged “it´s okay, you can take it baby, just a bit more, you´re doing so well” so you listened and took a deep breath, remembering how much better you came whenever you didn´t hold the air in, so you willed yourself to relax and saw her approve “that´s it” her face buried in the crook of your neck then, soothing you, “I´m right here, I´ve got you, I´ve got you”, your nails digging into her shoulder blades as you whimpered and got scared of your release, after all that build-up, so she commanded you “come for me baby, just let go, make a mess”, and somehow the last part got to you, your body eager to comply, so she kept you pinned down and didn´t change a thing about the pace and depth she was going at as she felt you come undone beneath her, kissing your face all throughout it, encouraging you “there you go” as you cried out and felt your whole body shudder and shake, sweat dripping down your forehead, spit collecting in your mouth, your legs tensed up, your body unravelling in the most deliciously violent way, no part of you unaffected by the climax, Van staying right where she was, still inside you, out of breath, obsessed, drinking in every sound, every sigh, every touch of your desperate hands, the way you clung to her in your moment of dying of pleasure and coming back to life anew.

you shared a frantic kiss and then her gaze was drawn to where a few tears had escaped you, without you even realizing, so she kissed them away too, tasting the salt, feeling you relax even more from her gentility, so she cupped your face in her hands and used her palms to infuse you with all the soothing touch you needed while recovering from the multiple highs you´d just been through. you shut your eyes and whispered “thank you..” but she didn´t want any gratitude, so she shushed you with another kiss, briefly rubbing your temples with her thumb, trying her best to burn that moment deep into her psyche, to keep it, forever. 

eventually she gave you some space and moved on the bed. “be right back” she promised as she got up and freed herself of the harness to put her clothes back on, before she cracked the window open and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to wipe the sweat off your chest, the juices off your inner thighs, a few deliberate swipes here and there to clean you up a bit, to be of service not just during sex, but afterwards too. for a moment after she just stood there next to the bed and grinned as her gaze traveled all the way over you, the way you laid there, dazed, satisfied, glowing.“damn, what a view...” she marveled while appreciatively running her index finger all the way up your leg, so you smiled and twisted your body a bit to get into a more flattering position, “all yours” you whispered, meaning it, so she got back on the bed with you and pressed a kiss to your stomach “that´s right. all mine” the words spoken against your skin, her voice all raspy and deep, a tingle on your skin where her the breath of the word “mine” left its impact.

it took no time for her to want you close again, so she moved behind you on the bed and sat upright while you draped yourself half over her lap, her arms around your waist, both of you quiet as you melted against her and heard her sigh “my angel”, a quiet laugh from you considering how far from saintly you´d just behaved for her. “you´re a fucking dream, you know that?” she said, her voice clearer and louder then, her grip on you tightening, her chin resting on your shoulder, “you are..” you countered, while lacing your hand through hers and squeezing them.

“god. I needed that so bad…” you confessed, which made her smile to herself “you don´t say”.  there it was again, the teasing, her usual tone coming back, “but clearly I did too.. you drive me fucking crazy”. you nuzzled up closer to her and felt her grip on you tighten a bit as you said “I always want you, of course, but on days like today…” you paused to sigh and shake your head “I´m not joking I could just go on and on, I feel insane” your hand wrapped around her wrist then, your cheek resting against her upper arm, her heart swelling from the sight. she laughed at your way of phrasing that “well, don´t ever hold back for my sake, please, I might tease you about it but don´t think I don´t love it when you get like this. it´s hot.” 

“yeah?” you asked, just to hear a bit more, already aware that she definitely meant it, so she indulged you “of course, I mean I´d have to be beyond ungrateful to complain about my situation here, having a hot girl want me over and over, that´s about as close to heaven as I´m allowed to get in this life I think” she laid it on thick, so you turned your head to look at her with a questioning but undeniably pleased look, Van grinned, standing by her statement, and leaned down to kiss your forehead, her lips lingering long enough to hear something close to a purr from you. 

“you know” you said, playing with a strand of her hair as she leaned back again and caressed you absentmindedly “yeah?” she asked, her tone soft and patient, so you went on,“you might not be the first person I´ve ever been with” a fake gasp of shock from her in response to that,“but!” you insisted, laughing at her dramatics “it still feels like you are because it´s so intense when you´re in love, which is very much a first for me. it´s just so much better like this. I mean clearly it´s addictive to me..” alluding to your never-ending hunger for her that matched hers for you, the kind that made homebodies instead of a couple who spent entire weekends outdoors. 

Van nodded and thought for a second before she added to your thought “yeah I mean I wasn´t exactly inexperienced when we met but this is definitely very new to me as well, to actually need someone and feel like touch can be.. healing” she said the last word quietly, as if she was a bit embarrassed about being so earnest, but you squeezed her hand to encourage her to go on. “forgot what that felt like. this might sound corny but I don´t care, it honestly feels like my body came alive again with you. you changed everything for me. everything, I swear.” she sounded like she might choke up, so you moved out of her arms to face her directly and put your hands at the back of her head, your fingers tangled in her hair, scratching gently. “so did you..” you told her and leaned in to kiss her nose, that part of her face you felt so tenderly for, the way it scrunched up whenever she really smiled, a few soft kisses that instantly made her weak again. 

“did I wear you out?” you asked after you pulled back, straddling her lap by then, the sight of you completely nude on her clothed body a sight that stirred something deep within her as she cocked her head and ran her fingertips up and down your spine. “your concern for the elderly is very touching, really, but I can keep up. for now. besides, I´m the one who should be asking you that, you´re the one who took it”. she squeezed your hip for emphasis, which caused an involuntary motion from you that made you rub up against her thigh in a way that almost got you going again, but you held back, still, she saw it, the flicker of need behind your eyes, unsure how she got lucky enough to have someone so wrapped around her finger. 

“I´m a bit sore, but I kinda like that, so I´m good” you mused and watched her eyelids lower the way they always did when she was suspicious. “you like being sore?” she asked, unsure if you were trying to rile her up or being for real, but you insisted “when it´s your doing, yes” whispering it lasciviously, so she played along “oh really?” her own voice dripping in sensuality then, “yeah, I remember the morning after I first slept here, I was so giddy all the way home when I felt my muscles aching.” 

“damn” Van laughed, “you´re something else, girl” you shrugged and settled back in her arms, laying down again, sprawled out over her. “but I agree, I also like when you leave your impact on me” Van admitted, her masochistic nature not a secret to you, so you took her arm and playfully bit down enough to leave some faint teeth marks, which made her wince but more from pleasure than pain, her smile audible when she said “yeah, something like that” and hoped that the indents would actually stay for at least an hour or so, already hoping you´d bruise her inner thigh the next time you gave her head.

for about ten minutes you continued to lay there, eyes closed, breathing in unison, a deep relaxation settling over you in that moment of precious, quiet intimacy. 

before either of you could fall asleep, Van tapped you on the shoulder and said “so. is there any point in me leaving the bed and telling you to get to work now, or are you just gonna come crawling all over me again in ten minutes?”. you sat upright then and went to go gather your clothes from the floor to get dressed again “I´ll try to restrain myself. I mean, you could also just tie my legs to the chair”. Van watched you from where she was still sitting and laughed “oh, don´t tempt me” 

“okay, so” she said as she also got up from the bed and went over to you, snaking her arms around your waist “how about you finish your work while I cook us something nice, then after dinner we could go get some fresh air and then get back to bed later. how does that sound”, you smiled, nodding “perfect”. 

before she could leave you shared one last thought “you know you´re the first..” you were searching for the right word “lover” you said, which elicited a grin from her, “that I have ever lived with and I can´t imagine it going better than how it is right now. I feel so at peace here, like I´m home, for real”. Van´s expression softened “I know, I´ve shed some tears about it, trust me, I feel very lucky”.

you wrapped your arms around each other and breathed in each other´s scent one last time and then begrudgingly separated, a groan from you as you sat back down at the desk, so she turned around and said “alright, in and hour I wanna see at least 500 words progress, are we clear? don´t ruin your academic career because you´re too busy throwing yourself at me”. 

you whipped your head around and found her leaning against the doorframe, clearly satisfied with herself, a hint of pride in her demeanor that suited her “you calling me a whore?” you joked, watching her smile get even wider as she countered “I´d never”. she blew you a kiss, half-teasing, half-earnest, and left you to it, uttering “good luck” as she closed the door behind herself. 

miraculously you actually managed to put your head down and push through the last few pages of your assignment without taking breaks or distracting yourself or letting thoughts of Van get a hold of you too heavily, so after about an hour and fifteen minutes of sitting there and typing away, you emerged from the bedroom and joined her in the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on a nice pasta dish she´d cooked up. you wanted to be close to her, so instead of taking a seat, you stood there with her, picking up random things on the counter and putting them back down again to occupy your hands, so she said “trying to find a good space to bend over for me?”, not willing to let it go yet, that you´d been needy as hell all day, a smug grin as she kept her eyes on the plates she was preparing while you scoffed  “you wish”, pretending to be offended, a little turned on from the mental image.

after you both got some energy back into your system from the pasta and some ice-cold soda, you decided to go out and enjoy the beauty of the golden hour, the sky empty save for a few clouds here and there, the breeze just mild enough to allow you to leave your jackets, but fresh enough to make you link your arms in order to be cozy.

after an hour of wandering around in the park and stocking up on sweets for later on, you went back home and both a had a shower, she first, then you, and right as you freed yourself of your clothes to wash yourself, you saw that you´d bled into your underwear a little, confirming what she´d alluded to earlier, that your sex-drive had been intensified by your impending period. she´d said it off-handedly that morning in bed, that she remembered you bleeding one morning after you´d begged her to keep going and going all night, but you´d brushed it off, certain that you weren´t getting it until at least a week later, but it had in fact come a bit early that month and it made you emotional in a way, to know that she paid such close attention to your body, to your moods, everything. 

Van was waiting for you in her sleeping clothes on the couch when you walked over and said “well you were right earlier, I got it now..”, so she perked up, immediately alert, always concerned about any pain you might be in, “fuck I´m sorry, does it hurt?”. “a bit yeah, but not as bad as usual, you can take credit I think, relaxed my muscles” you smiled as you approached the couch and carefully sat down, your hands on your stomach.

Van grabbed your knee, searching your eyes from up close “still, do you need a pain killer?” and you considered her offer just a second too long before answering, so she cut you off and decided for you “yes you do”. she rushed over to the cabinet to get some pills and a glass of water and brought them back once you´d obediently swallowed them.

“come here” she said once she sat back down and opened her arms, so you laid on top of her, your back against her chest in a way that allowed her to caress your abdomen, ever so gently, trying to alleviate you from any tension that might´ve been causing discomfort. 

“comfortable?” she inquired as she felt you go slack and breathe out “yeah very. you´re so warm” you hummed while resting your hand above hers, “and you´re so beautiful..” she answered quietly, her eyes fixed on the space where your sweatpants had been pushed down a little, your skin visible below her palm. you smiled when you heard the reverence in her tone, moved by it, so you shifted your position a little and gave her a kiss before you rested your head on her shoulder, by the crook of her neck, suddenly emotional over her way of caring for you as if it was second nature to her. 

“oh you´re killing me today baby” she sighed and held you close, unsure how to handle the feeling of having you curl up on her like that, your body so pliant and open under her touch. “I haven’t gotten used to it yet, that I get to be held like this all the time now..” you told her. she agreed, “yeah me neither. and it´s been like a month of you living here but I still have these moments where I wake up at night and see you there next to me, or when I come up the stairs and you´re already there and I didn´t expect it and feel such a rush. the same way I did when I first met you.” 

you smiled and clung to her “god I´m so glad I have you…” your eyes getting heavy, hers too, “my baby” she whispered and let you drift off. before you could fall asleep, you mumbled “love you.. ”, her voice just as fragile “love you too..”. 

both of you were too relaxed and content to move and got to bed already, so instead she pulled blanket from the couch over you and let you stay on top of her, keeping you warm and safe as you both dozed off to the feeling of each other´s chest rising and falling pressed against your own, heart to heart.

as your consciousness became hazy, you found yourself in a state of almost prayer-like, deep gratitude for Van, the way she tended to you, body and soul, the way she could overwhelm you with pleasure, make you lose yourself in passion, but also soothe any ache or discomfort and still your being with the simplest gesture and touch.

a memory from earlier that day was the last thing you thought of, you heard it echoing in your head, what she´d said, and repeated it back to yourself, to affirm it, revel in the fact that no dream you were about to sink into could match the sweetness of your reality: I´m hers. all hers.  

[brain--drop]

Creepypasta First Kiss Headcanons (PT 1)

It's been 84 years oml-// Includes: Jeff The Killer | Eyeless Jack | Ben Drowned

Jeff:

Although he'd never admit it, Jeff was beyond nervous for your first kiss as the two of you were lying down on the roof of a shed you'd spend the night at during your journey of getting back to the mansion.

It seemed to be set up perfectly. The chilly air of the night bringing the two of you closer for warmth, the sky clear to view the stars and the full moon. Ambience of crickets and no other distractions.

All it took was for Jeff to glance at you, seeing the moonlight cast lights and shadows to your face, and for you catch him staring that he leans in and plants a short and quick kiss on your lips.

"That...that was stupid. Stupid and gross. Forget it-"

As he sits up to get off the roof and leave, he stops when he feels your hand grab onto his hoodie sleeve. Your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out as you grow flustered from the moment. Jeff raises an eyebrow and lifts your chin up to look at him, unable to hide a laugh from seeing your face.

"So I wasn't reading the signs wrong. You're just as stupid as me."

He laughs more at your offended reaction, cutting you off mid annoyed ramble as he kisses you again, longer and more sternly. Both of you definitely complain in sync once you get inside the shed to sleep on why you stayed outside kissing in the cold for so long afterwards.

EJ:

Not as romantic as the two of you hoped as it was when Jack was bandaging up your arm, having been slashed during training. Or really just a full on brawl as nearly everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning and choose to vent their frustrations.

Much to Jack's efforts in getting you out of the crossfire of violence, you still ended up getting hurt after getting a cut from Toby's axe swinging. Now, much to your efforts of reassuring him, Jack still had an irritated but worried look on his face judging from his knitted eyebrows.

"I don't like using unnecessary force, but I should've moved you out the way faster. Thank whoever's out there that it wasn't serious but it could've been worse and-"

Next thing he knows, his mouth is being silenced by warmth and he realizes it was your lips against his. When you pull back, the shocked silence between the two of you is enough to fluster you both completely.

More silence follows as he finishes patching you up and you end up leaving the makeshift med bay of the mansion with a quiet thanks.

You spend the rest of the day in fear you took it too far until it was the dead of night when a knock at your door disrupts your thoughts. Opening it, you see Jack make his way inside and cups your face in his hands as he closes the door with his foot.

"Let's try that one more time, my brain is working again."

Ben:

It's as cute and awkward as you can imagine it to be. Ben spends days, weeks even, to work up the courage to make the first move and kiss you. By this point, every creep in the mansion is annoyed at his nervous rants to them as he looks for advice and tells him to get on with it.

It took Jeff to half jokingly tell him "he'd do it if he doesn't" for him to get it together and follow through that night, mood and timing be damned.

Fortunately for his racing heart, you wanted nothing more than to have a simple movie night which involved Chicken Little.

While you were seemingly engrossed in the film, Ben's mind was running a mile a minute as he did every trick in the book. Scooting closer to you, wrapping a blanket around you two, yawning and putting his arm around your shoulder. Even he has to admit it was cringe.

His nerves got the best of him when he was trying to find a decent moment in the movie when it didn't matter if it was watched or not as he turns his head and sees you looking right at him because of his anxious behavior.

"...fuck it, I'm dead anyways."

He wastes no time presses his lips against yours, any tension in your bodies flooding away with the warmth as it becomes more comfortable. That is until you both hear the loud sound from the movie of the pig hitting the vending machine to which you pull away laughing. Grabbing the remote, Ben lowers the volume before leaning in again.

"Eh, we've already seen it. This is better though."

[rillils]

thinking about how bucky always says steve’s name like it comes right from his soul.

thinking about the innocence of that one sweet syllable leaving his lips in kreischberg, when he’s strapped to a table and barely keeping his grasp on reality, and how he smiles when he says it,

“steve”,

tender on his breath, and how he sighs it again while steve gathers him up into his arms, like it’s a balm, like it’s all the solace he needed, like this is all it took to make his pain go away for a blissful moment.

thinking about how cautiously he keeps his distance from steve in his apartment in bucharest; how he tries to protect himself, protect them both, by acting like he doesn’t remember – and still he slips up and says,

“you’re steve,” soft and a little hoarse and all too intimate, like it was only yesterday that he last called steve’s name out loud. and then he tries to fix that by attaching “i read about you in a museum” at the end, but it’s too late, his heart has already spoken before his mouth could stop it, the cat’s out of the bag now and there’s no shoving it back in.

thinking about how he wakes up later, finally in charge of his own body again, sore and exhausted and confused, and steve’s name is the first word on his lips, again, always,

and it’s so raw and vulnerable and it sounds so much like “i’m sorry”, sorry i lied to you, sorry i’ve been away for so long, sorry i’m still a weapon they can use against you, and it sounds a little bit like surrender too, like he’s done denying how he feels, and you can see the relief in his smile when he finally admits that of course, of course he knows steve, he’s in the marrow of bucky’s bones, a hundred years of torture couldn’t sap him out of bucky’s system – and bucky knows that because they’ve tried, they’ve already tried and it didn’t stick.

how many times do you think he curled up in a corner of his cell, back when hydra was first breaking him, and whispered steve’s name over and over in the ice-cold silence, reaching for any feeble memory of steve’s face, his voice, before it slipped between his fingers again?

how many times do you think they dragged him out of his cryo chamber, soaked and trembling, and heard him murmur steve’s name before he was even fully awake?

bucky didn’t even realize he’d said it, or what the word even meant. all he knew was the sudden sting of a slap across his face, and vicious hands pushing him into the chair more brusquely than usual, and not even knowing why.

how many times do you think he rolled over on his lumpy mattress in bucharest, only half-awake, and mumbled steve’s name, hand seeking the warm body that was supposed to be there next to him, chasing the dream-like memory of blond hair tickling his nose in the morning, of cold toes pressed against his shins and a slim arm slung over his waist – just to wake up in the gray light of dawn and find that he was still alone?

how many nights did he spend in wakanda, lying alone in his bed, warmed only by steve’s voice on the phone promising him “soon”, “just a couple more weeks”, telling bucky how much he missed him? how much did his chest ache every time he murmured that final “goodnight, steve,” before they hung up, just so steve’s name would be the last word he said before he fell asleep?

but i like to think that there comes one morning, eventually, when bucky wakes up to an arm wrapped protectively around his waist, and two cold feet tucked between his ankles, and the inviting warmth of a body pressed snugly at his back.

he calls the name softly,

“steve?”

and the man curled around him stirs, snuffles against the meat of bucky’s shoulder, pressing a drowsy “mmmm?” into bucky’s skin.

bucky only realizes he’s smiling when he goes to turn his face into the pillow, happiness flowing fire-bright and golden in his veins.

“shh, sorry, sorry,” he shushes steve quietly, burrowing back into his embrace, as far as steve will let him. “go back to sleep, doll.”

[sh4nksslvt]

Stuck on You

Some prankster superglues Marco’s hand to yours. You both pretend to hate it… but secretly enjoy staying glued together.

Marco x gn! reader | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirting, chaos, sfw

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a prank.

A very bad prank.

One minute you were standing on deck, minding your own business, chatting with Marco about nothing in particular — and the next minute, someone (you had your suspicions) superglued your hand to his.

Literally.

Palm-to-palm.

Fingers intertwined.

"You have got to be kidding me-yoi," Marco muttered, staring down at your very stuck hands with the emotional range of a man who had survived actual wars but could not survive this level of annoyance.

You tugged.

Marco tugged.

Your hands stayed locked together like some sort of romantic death grip.

"…Well," you said, very eloquently.

"Well," Marco echoed, voice utterly dry.

From somewhere behind a barrel, muffled snickering erupted. You both turned in time to see a few crewmates (Ace, you would bet your next paycheck) sprinting away at full speed, laughing their asses off.

Marco sighed heavily. "Should've seen that coming, yoi."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. "You think they superglued us together… on purpose?"

Marco gave you a long look, deadpan as hell. "…No-yoi. It was a coincidence that someone left industrial-strength glue exactly where we were standing."

You snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. "Fair enough, Mr. Smartass."

He smirked, tugging lightly at your conjoined hands again. No dice. You were fused like some godawful romantic statue.

"Guess we’re stuck-yoi."

You both stared at your hands, at each other, at your hands again.

Slowly, you realized the entire deck was staring.

Crewmates leaned against rails, poked their heads out of doors, peered from crow’s nests. Watching. Waiting.

You could almost hear the bets forming.

You hissed under your breath, "Don't make a scene. Act natural."

Marco smiled, the slow lazy kind that made your heart do stupid cartwheels.

"You think we’re good at ‘natural' -yoi?"

You elbowed him (gently, because, you know, superglue). "Walk. Casual. Now."

He obligingly started walking, swinging your joined hands obnoxiously like you were newlyweds on a stroll. You tripped trying to keep up with his stupid long strides, and Marco had the audacity to chuckle under his breath.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you accused, half-laughing, half-glaring.

Marco tilted his head innocently. "Why wouldn’t I enjoy being glued to such charming company-yoi?"

You blinked.

Heat flared up your neck.

Was that… flirting?! From Marco?!

You decided to play it cool. "Obviously, I'm the lucky one. Being stuck with the infamous cool guy of the crew."

He arched an eyebrow. "Cool guy?"

You nodded sagely. "Yeah. All mysterious and strong and… broody. You know. Classic heartthrob material."

Marco actually laughed, full-throated and amused.

"You've been spending too much time with Ace, yoi," he said, but his thumb was rubbing slow circles into your knuckles — absent-minded, soft — and he made no move to pull away.

You pretended not to notice.

The ship doctor declared the situation "temporarily incurable" unless you wanted to rip off some skin.

You did not want that.

So you and Marco were officially handcuffed together for the next few hours, possibly longer.

The announcement spread through the ship like wildfire. Everywhere you went, people tried to hide their snickering — and failed spectacularly.

At lunch, you had to sit next to Marco. (Technically, on Marco, because the bench was too narrow and you kept bumping into him.)

Passing plates was a disaster.

You dropped a spoon into Marco’s lap at one point, and he just gave you a look so dry it could set fires.

You grinned sweetly. "Oops."

"You’re doing this on purpose."

"Maybe," you sang, swinging your legs.

Marco grunted — but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

After lunch, things got worse.

You tried to help Marco with paperwork.

Emphasis on tried.

"Hold still, yoi," he muttered, trying to shuffle through documents with one hand while your hand clumsily trailed after his.

"This is your fault," you whispered dramatically.

"You touched me first."

"You glued yourself to me!"

"You leaned into the glue puddle-yoi."

"You—!" you sputtered.

The tension snapped — you both cracked up, laughing so hard the pen rolled off the desk.

Sometime around sunset, you found yourself sitting on the figurehead of the ship, watching the ocean shimmer gold. Marco sat next to you, your hands still hopelessly, ridiculously intertwined.

The atmosphere shifted — soft, quieter.

A breeze tugged at your hair.

Marco turned his head lazily, regarding you out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," he said casually, "if you wanted to hold my hand… you could’ve just asked-yoi"

You almost fell off the ship.

"I did not plan this!" you yelped, cheeks burning hotter than a volcano.

Marco chuckled — that low, warm sound you could feel in your ribs.

"I know," he said, a little softer. "But still."

You glanced down at your hands — how perfectly they fit together, the way his thumb lazily traced circles over your skin without even thinking.

"…It’s not so bad," you admitted, voice small.

Marco smiled.

Not the lazy, cocky smirk he gave everyone else — a real, soft smile that made your heart flutter traitorously.

"Nah-yoi," he agreed, squeezing your hand. "Not bad at all."

When the glue finally wore off (courtesy of some miracle solvent the ship doctor whipped up late at night), you both sat there for a second.

Free.

Hands separated.

No excuse anymore.

Marco looked at you.

You looked at Marco.

Long pause.

"…We’re allowed to hold hands without glue, you know," you blurted, immediately wanting to jump overboard from sheer embarrassment.

Marco laughed — really laughed — and before you could hide your face, he caught your hand again, lacing your fingers together easy as breathing.

"No more excuses-yoi," he said, lips brushing your temple in a featherlight kiss.

You clung tighter.

Maybe being stuck together wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[nitewrighter]

Snow White and the Fae Co-Op

Part Three: I Got Better

Part One

Part Two

Hey thanks for getting the next round, man. 'Preciate you.

I've tried writing this part down, you know. Every couple decades or so I get the urge, say "I'm gonna do it right," get a journal or typewriter or laptop or whatever they're using, try it out for a couple pages... then I drop off. Then I get guilty for dropping off because... I mean Snow taught me to read, right? So if there's anything I should be doing to repay that then...

But I mean--Trolls, look, we're an oral-tradition based culture anyway, okay? The closest thing we had to a writing system is this... kind of Ogham-ish tally language that doesn't distinguish the alphabetical from numerical very strongly that was mostly used for outlining lineages and territories. And we can read rocks, obviously. We can look at a rock and we can tell you where that rock has been or how it used to be a much bigger rock or how it's actually a lot of little rocks mashed together but that's not really a language.

I'm getting sidetracked. Where was I? Snow and the Prince.

Okay. Bloody nose. Probably broken nose. Snow's leading the Prince through the castle, and this is the part where, if Snow were telling this, she would throw in something flowery about the way he gripped her hand or the way the light from the windows passed over his face, or the way her own brain was a scramble of 'You can't trust this guy, this is the queen's cup-bearer, he's done fuck all to try and connect with you before this, why would he try now? This has to be a ploy from the Queen." But then that thought gets interrupted by overwhelming pity for the guy, but then that pity gets interrupted by feeling bad for pitying him, because he's a whole-ass person with dignity or whatever. It all sounds very exhausting, this pure-of-heart thing. She brings him down to this spooky-ass alchemy lab and he's like, "Are we... allowed here??"

And she goes, "Sure, the Queen taught me all kinds of stuff down here when I was younger."

And this is when the Prince makes an 'Oh shit' face and she catches herself saying, "Oh, nothing bad! Like, we did great with the basics, but then we moved on to poisons, but then everything I made kept... burning or percolating into medicines, and she screamed at me over and over again every time my poisons turned into... the opposite of poison... and eventually she just gave up. Anyway, I've got a leopard's bane compound around here for the swelling....Should probably also find something for the pain--how's the pain?"

"It's... there?" Prince Damp Kingdom says awkwardly, "You know, you haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Why you're on edge?"

"Oh. Well, Queen wants to kill me."

"Wh--"

Snow plucks a vial from a crowded shelf, uncorks and sniffs it. "Oh, this'll work," she holds the vial toward him, "Put this under your tongue?"

"W-what is it?"

"It's... kind of complicated. It's rotten sugar and ground up seashells and this one herb that's been steeped in vinegar for a week and a bunch of other little things."

The prince makes a face again but Snow---and this is another part of Snow that to this day scares the shit out of me--Snow just flutters her eyelashes and goes, "If you don't want it, though..."

And knee-jerk the prince takes the vial from her and goes, "No, thank you--I mean, yes. I'll..." he glances at the vial and then back at her, "Thank you."

And yeah, you could argue that the prince is the kind of guy who would let his Bushwick girlfriend cut his hair and then pretend it looks great when it looks like shit for like three weeks after. But Snow is not a girlfriend from Bushwick. Snow is a Fae Weapon Forged in a Human Womb. Snow is the heart of the Evil Queen wrapped in new flesh and made pure. Snow is holiness and magic. Snow is a Miracle and a Curse. Again, Princess-Messiah.

So like, if you're hearing this from my perspective, you're probably wondering why she's spending so much time with a dude who doesn't have a lot going for him beyond being pretty and harp-playing. But y'know, I've already told you that Fae have complex and have esoteric notions of attraction, and that Snow knew things and saw things that both fae and human couldn't. She's just also... crazy convincing over the stupidest, smallest stuff, which is how the Prince found himself putting something that he didn't even know what the hell it was under his tongue and immediately making a face at this horrible honey-bitter-chemical taste before squinting for a few seconds and feeling his shoulders relax along with a slight tingling buzz relieving the ache of swelling in his face.

"Why do you think the queen's going to kill you?" it's possible Snow's medicine loosened his tongue as well as his shoulders.

"I didn't say she's going to kill me, I said she wants to kill me. If she could kill me, she would have done it already."

"So you can't... die?"

"I can die. Why wouldn't I be able to die?"

"I don't know. This is a lot right now. We don't talk much."

"Why is that?" Snow tilts her head.

The Prince gulps, already higher for this than he wants to be. "It... hurts to look at you, sometimes," he mutters, not meeting her eyes. Her thick black lashes squint and those red lips of hers hitch off to one side and he tries to clarify himself, "Not that you're not pretty--I didn't mean that in a 'You're not pretty' way, because you are... t-terrifyingly pretty, but when I look at you, all I can think of is... how... I've never done anything."

"I think you're selling yourself a bit short," Snow says kindly.

"But that's the other terrifying thing. I'm--I'm also scared of what kind of person I'd become just by being close to you. The world changes for you, I mean even right now, I'm saying so much more than I would ever normally, sanely say and--and what did you give me? What did I just put in my mouth just now?"

"Rotten sugar, ground up seashells, leopard's bane soaked in vinegar for a week--" Snow is counting on her fingers.

"But what does it do?!"

"It's for your nose--which I am still very sorry for, by the way."

"And I'm trying to find out something about you--I want to help you, but you just-just-- shimmer out of it! Why does the Queen want to kill you? This is the third time I've asked you that!"

"That's not the third time you've asked me that. First you asked why I'm on edge, then you asked why I think the Queen's going to kill me, which basically implied that you don't believe--"

"Princess," he bites the word between his teeth with frustration and she blinks, wondering if she's finally managed to find whatever iron is in him, before those thick black lashes lower.

"I think... because of what you just said. Because the world changes for me," she pauses for a few moments and her shoulders sink, "It scares me too. The changing. You stayed away because you thought I'd change you?"

"You can't tell that you're changing me now?"

"We don't talk much," Snow smiles sadly.

There's an awkward pause, then, and they both look away from each other. Fucking teenagers, yeesh. But then Snow seems to remember herself and says, "You really shouldn't be standing this long--with both the drug and the blood loss you could get dizzy so--"

They both flinch at the sound of a voice bouncing off the stone from the turret staircase. From the castle undercroft. They both recognize the powerful, elegant timbre. The Evil Queen.

"We should go," Prince Damp Kingdom says on reflex, all of the truth drawn up out of him shriveling up and dying like velella washed up on a beach, before saying, "Princess--Snow!"

But Snow's already pacing forward, shoulders stiff, gripping her skirts with white knuckles and the prince hopes she's going upstairs, but nope! Downstairs. And he curses in a very unprincely way under his breath before hustling after her, head now swimming from whatever the hell she dosed him with and his own movement.

He follows her down the turret stairs and into the castle undercroft, which is lit by some extremely unsettling purple-teal flames in the approximate spots where torch sconces should be, and they can hear the Evil Queen speaking, her voice echoing through the undercroft, though they can't make out the exact words. The prince gets a shudder at the back of his neck because there was this same draw, this same hook as when he was following the sound of Snow's voice when she sang at the well. Something something air and darkness, that was all the prince could make out, before Snow abruptly turns (maybe she could hear more sharply than him), and both find themselves looking into what may have been some kind of... mini-chapel for when the castle was under siege and human christians had to do human christian shit on account of the siege and everyone was probably going to die or something. Except there was definitely no Christian god for what was going on in that space now, I'll tell you that much. Instead, you have the queen standing in front of a circular plane of glass, as wide as both her arms spread out to her sides--and they can tell that because her arms are fully spread out, and she's saying,

"Mirror mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

And like, this is the horror movie part where any sensible person would be saying, "I should get the fuck out of here, that's what I should do" but again, we are dealing with FUCKING TEENAGERS so of course Snow and the Prince are both hiding behind a column watching the Evil Queen commune with some cosmic horror shit.

And like, the thing is, at first the Queen is just talking to her own reflection.

But then her reflection suddenly digs its fingers to its hairline and peels its whole front off, peels the goddamn image off the queen off like one of those Korean beauty masks, but in that same motion, it's like a layer of the glass itself is being peeled off as well, and before the evil queen stands a roughly her-shaped figure of green flames.

"Our dearest betrayer, our loveliest entertainment," the figure in green flames coos, "Must you call us on such tedious matters?"

And the Evil Queen just says again, more insistently this time,

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

"You ask and ask and ask, beloved," the Mirror answers back, "What have you done to change things this time, hmm? Some new potion? Another felled king?"

The evil queen's breath hitches, but she steels herself before saying once more,

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

The green flame figure huffs. "Ugh, so BORING--though know we're only answering because your reaction is the most entertaining part of these little chats." The green flame figure seizes and abruptly gets swallowed up by shadowed dampness, revealing itself as Mosscloak.

"You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But Snow-White is a thousand times fairer than you."

But suddenly two green flame eyes burn in the shadows of Mosscloak's hood.

"You act as if she is a weapon against you by her own will,

That she is not the product of your actions.

That she is not your heart. "

The Queen doesn't seem to react, but Snow suddenly winces next to the Prince, her head bowing, her features scrunching as if holding back a sob.

"Snow?" his name leaves him barely audible as a puff of breath.

"You need to go," Snow is suppressing the whimper in her own voice, like there's a tidal wave of grief inside her surging up, fingernails scraping against the stone of the column.

"Not without you--" the Prince starts.

"Now," she flicks those dark eyes to him and before he can even comprehend his own free will in the situation, he's zipping up the stairs, and she can feel his will screaming against her. He's supposed to be scooping her up in his arms and taking her with him, or sprinting toward the Queen screaming with a dagger, or something, but no, Snow is sending him away because he's safest if he doesn't have the Queen's attention.

"Show her to me," the Queen says, her voice thick.

The mirror abruptly morphs to show a scarlet net studded with pearls against jet-black hair. This mass of hair is facing a mirror, which is showing a scarlet net studded with pearls against jet black hair, looking at a mirror at the far end of the rom. The mirror in the mirror in the mirror is displaying a mess of black hair studded with pearls facing a mirror--

Snow realizes she's looking at the back of her own head in the Magic Mirror, and because she is looking at the mirror, the mirror is looking at itself. Her head swings around to see... nothing. There's nothing there and yet it can see her. Her jaw opens and quivers with unspoken, terrified words before she finally manages to force her brain signals down to her legs again. She hauls up her skirts in bunches and sprints up the turret stairs after the prince.

...Oh look at that. I finished this pint. Now, I could go home, or... I could tell the next part of the story if someone got me another pint of 'Literally Just Wet Hops' IPA. Decisions, decisions.