#starlitnetwork

Reality hit again, “Fuck, Yunho—wait, someone—I think someone,” You were cut off by a particularly powerful suck of your clit, almost as his way of telling you to shut the fuck up. Your head lulled back into the pillow, focusing on him for only a moment. You were trying so hard to suppress the moans he drew out of you with the circles and kisses and licks against your cunt. But, there was no doubt he was skillful. 

He didn’t care if someone walked in though; his roommates or friends or, God forbid, his family. He didn’t care, but you did. And that’s why you bit your lip, using both hands to try and pry him away from you. 

“P-please I’m gonna—I can’t,” You felt a bubbling sensation within your lower stomach, all the pleasure finally adding up. This is what he wanted from you and he was going to get it. 

He pulled you closer to his face, legs fully pressed into the creases of his arms, which caged you against his lips. He grabbed both of your wrists with his hands, locking them down. He made you stop moving, and took away your fail-safe noise control all at once. 

“Yunho…” You practically sobbed under your breath, eyes shifting to the door. What a compromising position you’d have to explain. What an embarrassing memory you’d have to suppress. You didn’t want whoever it was to see you differently, however, your boyfriend was the only one to actually see you like this. “Don-don’t make me,” 

But it was the desperate, lovesick look in his eyes that made you want the opposite when your head shifted back. It was the slight panting, and grinding hips that made you want to come undone for him. And at this rate, it seemed inevitable over your willpower. 

Nobody’s ever wanted you this bad, and frankly the thought of being caught was kind of hot. 

Your back arched against his hold suddenly, mouth threatening to fall open; the moans and whines cascading with it. Your orgasm was strong, stronger than usual, and it spasmed every muscle in your body. Your head was fuzzy, and it felt like the world was about to go dark. 

And when you came to, you barely recognized what happened. Not only did he almost get you to pass out from the intensity, but you squirted against his chin and neck as well. 

Panic set in, and you looked around through the white-dots that scattered your vision, frantically in search of whoever could’ve walked in—oh, what an even more embarrassing sight for them to see. You didn’t even care about your soaked boyfriend who was kissing your thighs, trying to calm you down. 

“Angel,” He said, trying to gather your attention, “Look at me.” 

Those familiar words awoke something primal in you, and you did as you were told. He crawled up your body, leaving kisses against the skin he could get to underneath the hoodie that had ridden up. He finally let your arms free in the process, palms coming to rest against your blushing cheeks. 

“Stop worrying,” He kissed your lips, a mix of yourself on his taste, “The door’s locked.” 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

His lips had an upward turn to them, arms crossed over his chest. You did it again, pressing your lips to the space between his brows to elicit the same reaction—he just looked so damn cute. 

Yixiang has been lying in your lap as you watched a cartoon, adamant to spend his free time with you. And, after a while of scrolling through his phone his eyes had fluttered shut, soft sighs audible through his sleepy state. 

Of course, you froze, purposefully not even moving a neuron so he could dream peacefully. Afterall, He’d been working so hard, you figured that this was best for him, even if your legs fell off from the lack of circulation causing pins and needles. 

You‘d been glancing down occasionally, distracted by the slight pout on his lips. You admired the fullness and length of his lashes, slightly envious that you had to use fake ones to get near that amount of volume. 

And then, you laughed—he just looked so…fake in your lap. 

The vibrations had made him stir, face turning towards your stomach, hiding from the overcast light. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, the other still sat over his mid-section. Yixiang was so close to you, you could almost feel his heart beating. 

“I like feeling your heartbeat,” You remarked, only realizing that it was supposed to be in your head when he answered. 

He pulled himself closer, voice muffled by your shirt, “Are you a psycho?” 

“You’re awake?” You almost gasped out, “I mean—wait.” He laughed, turning his head to the ceiling again but not opening his eyes. “No, I’m not a psycho…” 

“You just say creepy things for fun?” 

“No,” You huffed, “I just like you…a lot.” 

He hummed, “Well, I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow and,” You didn’t know if it was because he was half asleep that he was confessing his deep-rooted love for you but, even shocked, you let him go on. “Forever? That’s not long enough.” 

A dorky-smile spread across your face (though he couldn’t see it), practically all your teeth on display. Then, you were kissing his face. 

His eyes shot open for a moment as you pressed your feather-light lips to his skin again and again in different places, then he closed them again. 

Once he’d had enough (well, he actually hadn’t) Yixiang stopped you, a gentle hand holding you mere centimeters from his face by your cheeks. 

“Hey, psycho,” He practically whispered, “My lips are right here.” 

And, he made you find them quickly after, shushing whatever snarky remark was hanging on your tongue. You smiled into the kiss, disregarding his new nickname for you and relishing in the moment. 

He was right, forever wasn’t long enough. 

The sight was familiar, however the circumstances were quite…the opposite.

“Stay still,” You commanded, aligning the holes in the slimy mask with his eyes and mouth. He let out a breathy laugh, hands squeezing the flesh of your hips.

“It’s kind of hard when you’re sitting on me,” He replied, smoothing his hands over your bare legs, sending a shiver down your spine. “Especially, when you’re in nothing but my hoodie.”

He furthered his hands over your thighs, tempting you with the pleasure you’d usually be feeling while atop him.

“Shut up,” You replied, “Just let me finish putting this on and I’ll get off.”

However, he didn’t want you to get off. It was a dangerous game he was playing, one that had you rather distracted.

“I wish I could kiss you,” He remarked, dragging his fingers over your stomach and up your sides casually. “But, you wanted this.” He was referring to the cutely-printed sheet against his skin.

Your breath was shortening with every fleeting touch, ones that he knew made you crave more. The beating in your chest was loud and you wondered if he could hear it, or feel it somewhere else.

“Chenle,” You warned, flattening the bumps and creases in the material; the glide easy with all the excess serum. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asked innocently, your hands falling around his neck. You deadpanned through your own animal-print. “I’m not doing anything.”

Your boyfriend looked quite adorable with the tiger sheet mask on, which you had recently bought and had been keeping in the fridge for self care night (plus Chenle). So, why were you so turned on?

“Fifteen minutes,” And then, from zero to a hundred—like the wind was getting knocked out of you—one particularly hard pull had your eyes rolling back and your sentence being cut short.

Your stomach was in knots instantly, head leveling again from being thrown back. There was a shit-eating grin on his face. He was winning the game he started, that was for certain.

Chenle did it again, pushing your hips against his lap and making you moan out softly. “Le…please,”

You could feel everything: How hard he was getting, how wet you were getting, how suffocating this stupid face mask was starting to feel.

Relaxing, my ass.

His voice had a mock-softness to it, “Please what, baby?”

However, you didn’t give in, “Set a timer.”

He rocked you forward again, and then back, and then repeated it until you were moving at a steady rhythm. His fingers dug into the skin of your ass, guiding the movements easily.

Chenle completely ignored your request, too caught up in the way you started to leave a wet patch against the gray fabric. He could feel it, so he knew you could too.

It was too much, he groaned at the sight. “Fuck,”

You huffed, biting your lip raw. A whimper escaped your throat at the small noises he was also trying to conceal. But, you both were just as bad as the other.

“Chenle,” You whispered, not being able to force anything higher out. The feeling of your clit being stimulated by the fabric of your panties against his sweats was enough for you. And, maybe it was all the tension he built that had you toppling to the edge early—not that he minded.

“Yeah, baby? You close?” He smirked, knowing that the grip you had against him was a telltale sign of yours, “You can come. Go ahead.”

And you really did, his (your forced) movements continuing after your thighs attempted to close around his hips. Obviously, to no avail.

Your hands pressed against his chest, lower stomach, arms, anything to get him to stop dragging you back and forth like a ragdoll.

“Too much,” You mewled at the overstimulation, “S-stop it.”

“No,” He simply said, “There’s still about twelve minutes left.”

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet

taglist : @mystarsohee @seomisaho @jihyokat @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz | fill out form to be added.

“What’s so funny, Hyuck?” 

He hummed a moment, lifting your legs from off his lap and getting up, “Oh, nothing.”

He’d just spent the last half an hour letting you rant about your day, a couple snacks being nothing but ripped up wrappers by now, littering the top of your baby-pink blanket. 

Of course, he wasn’t laughing about what you’d just expressed. No, he was laughing at the plan he was about to enact. One he’d been cooking up throughout the entire time you’d been dating. 

He extended his hands out for you to take, “C’mon,” He instructed quietly. You jut your bottom lip out at him, soft eyes meeting his own. He found you so overwhelmingly adorable, “Baby, don’t be like that,” 

You took his hands, challenging, “Hyuck…” But before you had the chance to finish whatever thought had crossed your mind, he was pulling you up, the blanket pooling around your ankles. 

Your eyebrows creased, furthering the pout, “I was warm.” You stated simply. 

He picked it up wordlessly, wrapping it around your shoulders, “Better?” 

You shook your head, causing him to laugh again. 

Then he led you through your place, and just as you thought he was just putting your pouty-ass to bed, he veered you by the shoulders. The bathroom illuminated, your boyfriend immediately catching your eye through the mirror. His hair was slightly messy, casually, but so attractive, complimenting his features; due to this comeback, his bangs were shaggy—arguably one of your favorite looks on him. 

And don’t think you hadn’t noticed that he kept doing that weird, guilty-pleasure thing that made you swoon like a schoolgirl: ruffling his hair with his fingers or shaking it out of his eyes. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe he’d figured you out. 

“You’re just gonna stare?” 

You huffed when he broke your concentration, the feeling of a brush being gently pushed into your hair. He de-tangled it from bottom to top, and you wondered who taught him that. 

“Why do you look so confused?” 

“You got another bitch?” You audaciously accused, “Who taught you how to brush hair like this?” 

His laughter continued, “I have a sister,” He said, now being able to fully run the bristles down your hair without it getting caught. “And, a hair stylist.” 

You hummed a moment, squinting your eyes at him through the glass. However, your mock-accusation was short lived when you caught a glimpse of the way his toned arms flexed, his slightly oversized black-tee only adding to the allure. 

God, when’d you become so down bad? Usually it was the other way around—Donghyuck praising the very ground you walked on. Usually he was the one obsessed, but there was something about his gentle, yet confident mannerisms today. His domestic actions and attentiveness. The way he wasn’t saying you needed to feel better, but was trying his hardest to make it happen. 

Actually, he always did that. Failure to notice or comfortable complacency? 

You turned, the brush comically still in the air like you hadn’t. “What’s up?” He asked, confused, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry,” 

There was never any doubt that he loved you like the sun loves the moon, however, now you were sure. 

“No,” You assured, “You didn’t.” 

“Okay good, I really wasn’t trying to make your day wor—“ 

The words died on his tongue when your lips met his suddenly. That wasn’t like you—always cautiously calculating your every move. 

But, Donghyuck wasn’t like you at all. And, maybe that’s why it worked, because two polar magnets can’t connect. 

You heard the brush clatter to the counter behind you, fingers gripping through the blanket against your waist. He pulled you close, close enough to become one in another universe (maybe you’d like to crawl into his skin, be the very blood in his veins). 

The air wasn’t moving when you broke apart, eyes fluttering open. You’d seen him this close before, but your cheeks still tinted pink every time. “Sorry,” You whispered against him, mouths only centimeters apart still, “I don’t know why I—“

“Shut up,” A smile creased his features, and he pecked your lips again, and then your cheek, and the other one, and the side of your mouth and anything else he could reach from that proximity until you were clawing your hands at his chest, giggling. 

“I love you,” 

No shit. “I know.”

You tried to push him away, a little embarrassed at all the skinship. You didn’t do things that were too much but you did enough because that’s how your boyfriend shows love. But Donghyuck wasn’t like you in that sense; he liked over-the-top displays of affection, or so you liked to think. On the other hand, maybe it was exactly what you actually needed. 

But somewhere down the line, he met you in the middle. He kissed you absentmindedly still, reassuring you a billion times that the heart behind his ribcage was for you and only you. He listened to your worries and irritations, remembering fine details, places and peoples names. He held the door and your hand. Arms a sturdy safety-net. He reminded you he was always there by standing behind you with his head on your shoulder, arms around your waist. He changed, but only because you had as well—opening up to him slowly. 

His knees buckled the first time you rested your legs over his lap, or head on his shoulder, or hand on his leg. He swears he could’ve died when you sat by him while he played his PC games, reading quietly on your iPad, sharing your hobbies. You made him coffee in the morning, and always asked if he wanted something from the store. You even slept with your head on his chest sometimes, listening to the constant rhythm of him. It was the little things, the things you’d do without overthinking. 

And through it all, he’d finally figured you out. You weren’t complicated, you had just never been taught what love was supposed to feel like. Luckily for you, he was a great teacher. 

“Say it back.” Unfortunately (or not) he trapped you between him and the countertop. 

Donghyuck didn’t need to hear it often from you, he really didn’t, he knew you loved him. He knew he was the only one in your heart, as you were his. But sometimes a man’s gotta be selfish. 

And, in actuality, he loved talking in your love language. 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @kstrucknet @starlit-network @blossomnet @k-films

taglist : @slytherinshua @jenaissite @saxytalks @mystarsohee @seomisaho @chwesun @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz @bbangbies @cyjzzl @minkilicious @am00ures | fill out form to be added. 

Your boyfriend had called you over about fifteen minutes ago, after a dreadful award show neither of you wanted to go to, but you hadn’t seen him for months prior to them accepting the trophy. One glance and all the memories from before he left crossed your mind: the heat, the hands, the clothes scattered everywhere but your bodies. You missed him more than just a little bit, and the late-night phone calls, and secret pictures weren’t enough to tide you over anymore. 

He wore that stupid tuxedo that he knew you liked. The same one you’d practically ripped off the last time you met him in a hotel. And you wore that stupidly short black dress you knew he couldn't resist. 

He eyed you all night like a wild animal ready to pounce. You didn’t have to wait long for the text. Actually, it took about 30 minutes less than you planned. It was too bad you couldn't follow him around anymore, meddling about in various hotels under different names. 

The anticipation rose as you walked the dimly lit hallways, flashes of skin on skin behind your eyelids making you dizzy. Oh, how you’ve longed to smell his cologne and feel his hands all over you. How you’ve craved the attention only he could give you. You wanted it…bad. You weren’t convinced you’d feel alive until he was there, in front of your face, whispering stupidly intoxicating things. 

Then he was. 

“Babe,” Your heart skipped a couple beats when his hand gripped your wrist, pulling you into the dark room with him. “Are you actually a vampire? Why are the lights off?” 

“Fuck,” His hands were caressing your waist in an instant, dragging the fabric along with every pull and push. “Do you know what you do to me? I missed you so bad.”

“Evidently,” You laughed, arms locking behind his head and bringing him closer to your face, “You didn’t even change. Impatient, much?”

A smirk formed on his face, “Why would I when I know what it does to you?” He was cocky…and horny. A deadly combination when it came to Jake. You would know. However, you weren’t exactly dry right now but, you’ve always been able to hide it better than him. Or so you liked to think.

“Oh?” You breathed out, placing a hand on his chest. Your breaths mixed with the lust in the air, the eye contact nothing short of tempting. “Why exactly do you think I kept this on?” He was about to lean in and close the distance when you pushed, the back of his knees colliding with the edge of the bed and making him sit. You wasted no time climbing onto his lap, silently dragging the fabric up to expose more of your legs—arguably one of his top three favorite features on you. 

He huffed, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. Your hand reached between the two of you, coming in contact with his slacks, “‘Cause I know exactly how hard it makes you,” You pushed down, not hard enough to hurt him, but to elicit a groan from him. 

He never broke your sight, staring up at you with those wide eyes that gave nothing to the imagination. You could read him as well as he could you. And you knew your little powertrip was only lasting so long before he had you at his mercy, spread out on the sheets of this hotel room bed. 

You, truthfully, hoped he’d take over soon. 

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. Kept imagining all the things I needed to do to you.” 

Your head cocked, “Needed?” 

“Need you, babe.” He reaffirmed, grabbing under your thighs to hoist you up along with him as he got to his feet. “Think about you all the time…how pretty you sound under me. How much you come around me. Everything about—fuck—I just missed you so much, y/n. This fucking tour has kept me away from you for long enough, don’t you think?” 

You practically whimpered in response, taking in every word he’d just said to you. Maybe you weren’t actually so good at hiding it. 

But you were no one else’s, and happy about it, that was for sure. 

“Jake?” Your soft eyes met his and he hummed, letting the tension be cast aside for the moment, “I love you.” 

A smile spread across his whole face, “I love you too, baby.” 

Before you finally pressed your lips together, you spat out a quick, “Record it.” under your breath, which he swears almost made his knees buckle. 

And then it's like the dam had broken, all the still air in the room finally moving as he kissed you back forcefully—a little bit desperately—a mix of teeth and tongue and lack of shame. 

You were back on the bed quickly, this time the roles reversed, you on your back fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, the suit jacket discarded the moment you hit the sheets. His toned body was finally revealed, a relieved breath leaving your nose. You missed seeing him so primally raw.  

It was a little comical how fast he broke away and stumbled to set his phone up, you holding it in his view with a curious glint in your eyes. After you’d dragged it out of his back pocket. He almost tripped over the carpeting, obviously excited, causing you to finally laugh. 

You watched, balanced on your elbows. His back muscles were on full display, and pants unbuttoned as he made sure the angle was perfect. 

Once satisfied, he turned back to you, a shit-eating smirk on his face. He admired how perfect you looked, and how much better it would be once you were finally out of that dress that hugged every part of your body perfectly. “You’re gonna be the death of me, by the way.” 

You huffed, “I'd hope so.” 

He grumbled softly, throwing his head back in disbelief just before he joined you on the bed—on top of you—body to body. “You’re so stunning, I can’t believe I’ve been using anything but you for months.” He was spitting out whatever came to mind, grabbing the edge of the dress to pull it over your head, “Wasn’t the same…isn’t the same…” Until you were left in nothing but a lacy pair of black panties. 

You smiled, ushering him onto you, “Well, now you have something to remember me by,” His body was pressed to yours in an instant, kissing along your exposed top half and up to your jaw. “Don’t forget.”

“Hard to,” Jake groaned into your skin as you lifted your hips to meet his rhythmically. 

In record time he was out of his clothes, dragging the last piece of clothing blocking you from him down your legs. 

He kissed your thighs, almost patiently, like he was trying to make you beg for it. “As much as I’d love to eat this pussy right now, I’ve gotta be inside you.” Evidently, though, the one begging for it wasn’t you. “I’ll just eat you out after I’ve come in you, and in the shower and—I don’t know,” He was mumbling the last bit against your skin. And, though he was trying to be hot, you laughed again—his lips the only scorching thing at the moment. You hoped he’d watch the video back and hear how down-bad he was for you in actuality, you wanted him to know that you had him just as wrapped around your fingers as he did you. 

Then, you were gripping his hair, tugging him up to face you. “Hurry up then, Jake.” 

Your boyfriend did not have to be told twice. He was hiking your legs up to your chest in an instant, holding you folded together by the back of your thighs, your hands coming up to assist, resting under your knees. 

Jake felt his stomach twist with not only anticipation but fondness. He thought you looked beautiful put-together and vanilla scented but, he definitely thought you were the most beautiful all messy and desperate for him; crying out his name, and racking your nails across his shoulder blades. He thought you looked so beyond heaven-sent in whatever form you decided to present him with that day: sick and sleepless, full-face and dressed up, anger-ridden within his hoodie—whatever it was, he adored you to no end. And, that’s why the last tour (time away) has been particularly difficult. 

Your eyes rolled back at the first, long-awaited, stretch of him sliding into you. “Look,” He demanded, “Watch how well you take it, baby.” 

You squeezed your legs tighter, “J-Jake,” 

He spoke over you, “Even after all this time, you’re still made for me, angel. Such a perfect, fuck, everything.” 

He bottomed out quickly, skin to skin, and waited for you to say something…anything. But, honestly, he just needed a moment to calm down before he came within record speed. 

One of his hands left your leg, coming to softly lay against your cheek. He swiped his thumb sweetly over it, catching your hazy gaze. He could do a whole 180; reminding you of how tight you felt around him and how much of slut you were for letting him do such filthy things to you, or he’d remind you through cotton-candy words about how much he loved you and how perfect you were in every aspect. 

You wondered what you were going to get. 

“Angel,” He hummed, moving his hand swiftly to the back of your head and tangling into your hair tightly. He jolted it up, a loud squeak leaving your lips at the action. “I told you to look.” 

Your eyes opened weakly, catching his gaze for a second before traveling between your intertwined bodies. You didn’t have to see him fully inside you to know he was. Was he stupid? You definitely could feel it. 

What was he trying to accomplish? 

“Tell me how much you need it, tell me how much you needed—missed me, baby,” And, then he revealed his whole plan, “Say it loud for the camera.” 

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming his hips back into yours. You groaned, fighting his grip to lul your head back into the pillow. 

He set a steady—harsh—pace. “You were just talking so much, what happened?” 

You whined, letting go of the leg he did moments before and grabbing his wrist behind your head. Said leg fell beside his hip, which he didn’t notice, or frankly care about at the moment. 

“Go ahead, baby, tell me.” 

All thoughts died within your head when he let your other leg go, moving his hand to thumb over your clit steadily. 

You honestly didn’t know how he was so composed. But, you guess, Jake never has been one to not be in control when he was the one in control. 

“I-I missed you so much,” Your eyes closed, too overwhelmed to be able to do multiple things at once, “Nothing was the same…those stupid phone calls. The-they made it worse,” 

“Good girl,” 

“Needed you so bad it hurt.” 

He let your head fall back, unraveling your hair from his fingers. “Well, I’m here now.” He whispered against your jaw as he dipped his head. Jake was messy, and his lips over your skin was no exception. “Let me feel it, y/n, please. Show me how bad you missed me.” 

He caught your lips against his when your mouth slightly parted, a breathy whine leaving it and being swallowed up by your boyfriend. His tongue was instantly inside your mouth, a mixture of teeth and saliva and (once again) lack of shame. 

He didn’t care when it was you. He could let every guard down if it meant he got to be insatiable with you. 

“Show the camera, make me remember when I’m gone.” 

But, he’d never actually forget. 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @sweetvenomnet @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet

taglist : @jakeify @mystarsohee @jihyokat @seomisaho @bbangbies @oc3anfloor @atzlordz @minkilicious | fill out form to be added.

His eyebrow rose, “Have you ever told a four year old no before and not made them cry? Especially one who was spawned from you.” 

“Spawned?” You gawked, “She got the drama gene from you, big-ass diva.” 

You reached behind him, dipping your fingers into a little cloudy-colored balm—your makeup removing balm, that is. 

“She did a good job on the nails though, you have to admit.” 

You admired the pink around his cuticles, small drops on the actual bed of his nail, then moved your eyes up to admire the baby blue around his, purple under, and massive amounts of blush; Your daughter must have been blush-blindnesses final boss you’ve found out through this experience. But Intak would say anything was done to perfection if it was done by his daughter, he just loved her that much. 

Your boyfriend—turned husband—used to pluck every star from the sky for you, tell you to reach for the moon, but truthfully seeing him do that and more for your kid made it all the much more special. 

He was the kind of man you needed. And you were glad that was the kind of man he actually was. Not just someone who played the role for a while until it was too late to take back; showing you their true colors. 

“Close your eyes,” You instructed, rubbing your fingers between each hand and warming the remover up. Intak did as you said, relaxing with the touch of your skin. “Next time, I'll do your makeup, pretty boy.” 

A smile broke out, ear to ear, on his face, “Pretty boy?” He repeated, making you huff, close enough that he could feel your breath. “You promise?” 

“Well…” You gently worked the substances into a mixed mess, avoiding pressing too hard because you didn’t truthfully know what it felt like for him—and maybe you were a little aggressive with your normal pressure, you didn’t know. “She can help with the hair, seeing she did such a good job with the Sanrio clips. I think she used every single one of them.” 

Intak chuckled again, “Well, duh!” He said, grabbing your hips, “I taught her to go big or go home.”  

“I see…” 

Then he opened his eyes. He looked funny with the mixed colors—now a murky shade of gray—across his tanned skin, you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. But his gaze was only intense, hearts shooting, prompting you to ignore the minor details. 

Even though you’d been together for a while, you could still get embarrassed from such wordless confessions, as he was everything to you. 

You must’ve never won the lottery in a past life. Or maybe you saved a whole bunch of puppies from a burning building. 

Well, whatever you'd done, you thank yourself for every day. 

“Can we wash this off now?” Your eyebrows furrowed as he sliced the moment in half. He continued, “It kinda burns.”

You started laughing, ushering him to turn around and face the sink. Through jagged breaths you reminded him, “You started staring first.” and pushed his head down while turning the water on. 

“Yeah,” A gurgling sound left his lips with the words, water splashing the porcelain as he didn’t straighten up enough, “But I can’t help it, pretty girl.” 

Maybe it was because you had to grow up too early. Maybe it was because you never had that support engraved into you. Maybe having to act like an adult while you still played with dolls took its toll on you. Maybe you weren’t able to ask such a simple question because it was never met with anything but criticism—why weren’t you able to accomplish such a simple task? Why couldn't you solve this equation? Why didn’t you know how to put gas in a car, or change the oil? Why couldn’t you preheat the oven? Eventually, you asked yourself the same questions.

Why did you have to be dependent on people who were supposed to help you?

So, you never bothered them anymore—the fear of rejection strong. 

You reached your hand high above your head, silently cursing yourself for putting things on the top shelf anyways. You huffed, feeling the deep desire within you to get off the countertop and find something else to hold what you wanted. However, there was a screaming voice inside your head, mocking your lack of attempt. You could reach a little higher, your fingertips were brushing it anyways. What was a little fall if you got what you wanted? 

Would you feel accomplished? Would it satisfy you to feel pain as you rubbed at your bruised knees? Would it make you smile? 

“Here,” You felt a warmth, a presence you’d grown familiar with, his body pressed to your back momentarily. Your heart beat unsteadily—from adrenaline, or proximity? “Let me help you.” 

“No,” You looked over your shoulder, “I got it.” 

Your faces were close, so close you could feel his breath against your lips. You never knew someone could look like that up close. 

“I know you do,” He ignored your pleading eyes, knowing somewhere within them was just a mirage of what you wanted people to see. What you wanted to see. “But, I want to help.” 

And that’s how it started; your undoing. The crumbling of the walls you built so goddamn high, even you couldn’t get over them. But, he picked at them pebble by pebble until he roamed your mind freely. 

It was the small things: holding your jacket out for you to put on, brushing your hair after a shower, grabbing you a glass of water or a snack without wanting something in return, letting you vent instead of biting your tongue. He’d put your legs over his lap, and turn on your favorite show. He’d remind you every second of every day that you were beautiful if he could. He’d do anything for you to see yourself the way he saw you; wingless angel.

He never made you feel like a burden, normalizing the things that should’ve just been. 

His soft voice would replay in your mind, a lingering touch on your heart—pulling the strings until they unraveled. 

Maybe there was such a thing as everlasting love. Maybe there was such a thing as unconditional. Maybe you’d never felt trust before—maybe you’ve never actually loved before. Because to be loved is to not feel uncomfortable. To be loved is to not walk on eggshells. To be in love is to not make selfish sacrifices. To be loved is to listen. To be in love is to be on the same page. To be in love is to not feel like you’re at war with yourself. To be in love is to hear angels singing every time you look at each other. 

“Anton,” His hands found your waist, helping you turn around and face him, legs now on each side of his hips. You knew you were fucked up, messy and little off-putting because of it but, you’d trust him because you wanted to, “I love you.” 

The plastic cup clattered to the floor, along with the rest of your reserve. You were scared of heights, scared of romantic words, scared of receiving help, but ready to leap with his hand within yours. He’d hold your heart like it was the most delicate and rare artifact on Earth. He’d hold you like you’d float away—far out in space somewhere. He’d love you like his first and his last. 

Because now you know, to be loved is to be healed, not cut open.