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linalieana · 19 days ago

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୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ academic rivalry with rich boy gojo, but you genuinely don’t like him and he doesn’t understand it until it’s too late.

the aftermath of your last conversation with gojo.

the first time you saw him after the fight, you pretended not to.

you came into lecture late, slid into a seat in the second row without glancing around, and kept your eyes trained on your notebook. you didn’t even flinch when he sat a few chairs away. normally, you’d have thrown him some dry remark, something sharp enough to keep the game alive. but this time? nothing.

it was the silence that got him.

gojo satoru thrived on reactions. good ones, bad ones—it didn’t matter. the whole point was the spark, the acknowledgment. but you didn’t give him anything. you just looked… tired. hollow-eyed, the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than a bad night’s sleep.

after class, he tried.

“hey,” he said, jogging up to you as you stuffed papers into your bag. “you looked rough today. everything okay?”

“fine.” your voice was flat, final.

he reached for levity, because levity always worked. “you sure? because i know your ‘fine’ face, and that’s not it.”

“i said i’m fine.”

no eye contact, no pause. just a clipped answer and a brisk exit.

the next attempt came two days later. you were in the library, hunched over your laptop, your face illuminated in the dim glow of the desk lamp. you looked like you’d been there for hours. he approached quietly for once, setting a coffee down by your elbow.

“truce?” he said, with a faint smile.

“i don’t want anything from you.” you didn’t even look at him.

that one landed hard. he lingered for a second too long, waiting for some sign you didn’t mean it, but you never glanced up. so he left.

and by the end of the week, he’d stopped trying to crack jokes, stopped hovering near your seat, stopped saving you spots or sliding his notes your way. but it wasn’t easy. because he kept noticing things.

the way your shoulders curled tighter each day, like you were bracing against something invisible. the way your hands shook when you reached for your pen. the dull shadows beneath your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

he wanted to ask. he wanted to tell you to eat something, to take a break, to stop burning yourself out like this. but every time he opened his mouth, he remembered your voice—i fucking hate you. i have from the start.—and shut it again.

and slowly, that sting of rejection started to fester.

remorse curdled into something heavier. he replayed the way you cut him off, the way you didn’t even give him a chance. he told himself he’d tried, that he’d given you openings, that you’d slammed every door in his face. and the longer it went on, the more it stopped feeling like guilt and started feeling like resentment.

maybe you weren’t worth the effort. maybe all that fire and sharpness he’d admired in you wasn’t wit—it was bitterness. maybe the only reason you ever kept up with him was because you hated being second.

the thought burned, but he clung to it anyway, because it was easier to be angry at you than to admit you’d gotten under his skin.

soon enough, he’d stopped reaching out entirely. he passed you in hallways without a word. he laughed too loudly with other people, let himself get swept up in conversations that didn’t include you.

the thing was, gojo had never really thought about you without the game.

you were the rival, the foil, the spark that made endless hours of classes feel like they mattered. he’d memorized the curve of your smirk when you landed a jab on him, the sharp edge of your voice when you told him to shut up. he’d liked it, maybe more than he’d ever admit—liked the push and pull, liked the proof that someone could keep pace with him.

and then you went and told him the truth.

no, not told—spat it, like venom. you hate him. you always have.

the words wouldn’t stop echoing. he’d replay them at night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if you’d meant every syllable or if it was just the internship talking. but every time he remembered your face—tight, furious, trembling—he knew it hadn’t just been anger. it had been truth.

and it stung, more than he thought it would.

because if it had all been real, then what had he been doing all this time? laughing at shadows? mistaking your exhaustion for banter, your disdain for wit?

he told himself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care, but it was a lie, and he knew it, because every time he caught sight of you—head down, eyes ringed with fatigue—something twisted in his chest. not guilt, exactly. not pity, either. just a heavy ache he couldn’t name.

he wanted to fix it. god help him, he did. he wanted to drag you out of that slump, shove a coffee into your hand, make you laugh even if it was at his expense. he wanted to prove you wrong, to show you that he wasn’t just some spoiled idiot coasting through life.

but you wouldn’t let him close.

so the wanting curdled.

after days of hitting the same wall, the ache in his chest started to sour into something darker. if you hated him so much, why had you played along for so long? why hadn’t you just said it sooner? all those smirks, all those clever little remarks—you’d let him believe. you’d let him.

and that thought—the possibility that you’d been mocking him the whole time—hurt worse than the hatred itself.

so he flipped it. decided maybe you were the fraud. that your sharpness wasn’t brilliance, but bitterness disguised as wit. that your hatred wasn’t righteous—it was envy. that all along, you’d been seething at the fact that no matter how hard you worked, he was still half a step ahead. that’s right, isn’t it?

that narrative stung less, so he let it calcify, slowly.

but underneath all that effort, a quieter truth lingered: he did miss you.

and that was the part he couldn’t forgive. not you—himself.

because if you really hated him, then what did it say about him that he still couldn’t stop thinking about you?

the strangest part was how automatic it all was.

gojo told himself he was done. done trying, done reaching out, done wasting time on someone who made it clear they didn’t want him around, but his body betrayed him.

he still caught himself scanning lecture halls for the top of your head. still noticed when your chair was empty, when your bag was lighter than usual, when your shoes looked scuffed like you’d been walking more than sleeping.

it was stupid. he knew it was stupid.

one morning, you dropped your pen. before you could even bend to get it, his hand was already there, picking it up. he set it on your desk like muscle memory, like a reflex—and then immediately hated himself for it when you barely murmured a thanks and went back to your notes.

another day, he overheard you muttering a question to yourself while working through a problem set. the answer flashed across his tongue before he could stop it, and he had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to keep it down. you didn’t even look at him—you just kept working, and he sat there, jaw tight, pretending he didn’t care.

and then there were the things he couldn’t help but feel.

like the way your exhaustion hit him harder than anyone else’s. classmates burned out all the time, pulled all-nighters, stumbled into lectures with half-lidded eyes. but seeing you like that—slouched over, dark circles bruising the skin beneath your eyes—it made something in him itch. he hated it. hated that he wanted to shake you out of it, hated that the thought of you falling apart scraped against him in a way it shouldn’t.

so he built walls. sharp ones.

when someone joked about your “rivalry” in passing, he laughed too loudly, said, “nah, i think they’ve given up on keeping up with me.” it was cheap, obvious, and it felt wrong in his mouth, but he let it sit there because at least it created distance.

he stopped missing you in rooms. stopped checking if you were watching when he spoke up in class. stopped saving comments for you that he would’ve otherwise tossed like breadcrumbs.

he stopped lingering near your table in the library. stopped sitting anywhere close in lecture. started filling the space you left with other voices, other laughs, other distractions.

and yet—

sometimes, in quiet moments, his guard slipped. he’d find himself staring at the empty seat beside him, or at the coffee cup you used to keep balanced on the edge of your desk, or at the gum wrapper he found crumpled in his pocket weeks after he’d given you the last piece.

reminders.

proof that he hadn’t imagined all of it.

and god, he hated that. hated that even after everything you’d said, some part of him still leaned toward you, like a compass needle stubbornly fixed north no matter how many times he tried to spin it elsewhere.

and you? you thought anger would burn longer.

that after you spat those words at him, after you finally let yourself say everything you’d been holding in since the first day you met him, you’d feel cleansed. maybe even relieved. you expected the hatred to thrum through you like electricity, to keep you sharp and steady.

but anger never lasts as long as you think it will. a week later, all you felt was tired.

you dragged yourself to lectures, took notes you barely remembered writing, stayed up too late staring at assignments until the words blurred. and instead of the sharp heat of hate, there was just… a dull ache. not for him, not exactly—just in yourself.

because the truth was, none of it mattered.

you could work yourself raw—skip meals, miss sleep, pour every ounce of yourself into every paper, every application, every moment—and it still wouldn’t be enough. you’d seen the proof of that in one email.

and then there was him. a rich boy with the easy grin, the effortless charm, the kind of heritage and money and pedigree that smoothed every road before him. of course he got the internship. of course professors loved him. of course doors opened for him like he’d been born holding the key.

it wasn’t even his fault, not really. he just existed, and the world rearranged itself around him.

you’d been fighting gravity your whole life, and he was floating.

so what was the point?

that thought dug in, festering. you’d spent years pushing yourself, thinking effort mattered, thinking that if you clawed your way far enough, you could stand at the same height. but now, sitting at your desk at 3 a.m. with a half-finished draft and cold coffee, it all felt like nothing. and that’s what stung worst of all.

not him, not this “rivalry”, not even the hatred you’d carried like armor. it was the creeping realization that maybe none of it counted. maybe you weren’t climbing, just running in place while people like him got lifted without lifting a finger.

you tried to push it down, bury yourself in your studies. you stayed late in the library, drowned in notes and drafts and references, as if you could smother the feeling with sheer volume. sometimes you caught yourself almost waiting for his shadow to fall across your desk, for that inevitable interruption—the pen set back on your table, the coffee cup slid into reach.

but it never came.

and you told yourself that was good. you told yourself that’s what you wanted, what you’d demanded, but the silence gnawed at you anyway, because at least when he was there, you could measure yourself against him. at least then you had something to fight for, even if it was petty, even if it was stupid.

without him, the fight felt… hollow.

your grades didn’t shine anymore, they just sat there, numbers on a page. your achievements didn’t taste sweet, they just felt small.

and in the quiet moments—when the library hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, when your apartment walls pressed in around you, when the cursor blinked on an empty document—you couldn’t help but wonder if everything you’d done so far had been nothing.

because what good was sharpness, or wit, or hours of work, when money and heritage tilted the scales from the start?

you hated him for being the proof.

and you hated yourself for needing him there, even if only to hate him.

—

you hadn’t wanted to go.

the idea of noise, of people, of squeezing yourself into someone else’s living room under cheap fairy lights and bad music—it felt like the last thing you had the energy for. but your friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. “you need a break,” they said. “just one night.” and you didn’t have the strength to argue so you went.

the house was already buzzing when you got there. music pulsed faintly through the walls, bodies moving in the cramped space between kitchen counters and couches, laughter spilling into every corner. the air smelled like beer and something fried.

you told yourself you’d stay an hour. two, max. smile, nod, nurse a drink, then slip out before anyone noticed.

and then you saw him.

gojo. leaning against the doorway to the living room, plastic cup in hand, hair messy in the way that was somehow intentional. he was surrounded, as always—two people laughing too hard at whatever he’d just said, someone else trying to drag him further into the crowd.

your stomach dropped.

you hadn’t expected him here, hadn’t planned for this, although it should have been expected for the golden boy to be at a party. avoiding him at school had become its own strange art—you’d learned the trick of slipping out just before class ended, of sitting far enough that you never brushed shoulders, of burying yourself in work so thoroughly he couldn’t wedge his way in.

but a house party wasn’t built for avoidance. too small, too loud, too many people pushing, pulling, weaving in and out of every room.

your eyes met his across the hall before you could stop them.

for a second—less than that, a blink—something unreadable flickered in his face. surprise, maybe. or recognition. or just the simple acknowledgment of you.

you broke the look first.

your friends tugged you toward the kitchen, pressed a cup into your hand, started introducing you to people you didn’t care to remember. you nodded, smiled, let the noise wash over you, but you felt it— his presence, heavy even from across the house.

every time you shifted in the crowd, you caught yourself checking where he was. and every time, he was looking too. not openly, not the bold, unbothered gaze he used to throw you across classrooms, but quick, almost cautious glances, like he wasn’t sure what he was searching for.

it unnerved you.

you told yourself to ignore it. to focus on the music, the warmth of your drink, the chatter of your friends, but the house was small, and people moved constantly, and no matter how carefully you angled yourself, somehow he was always in the periphery—laughing in the corner of the living room, drifting toward the kitchen doorway, brushing past in the hallway with just enough space left between your shoulders to feel deliberate.

your chest tightened every time, causing you to curse yourself.

you didn’t talk, of course neither of you tried, but the silence despite the booming music felt louder here, heavier, pressing down in a way it didn’t in the wide lecture halls where it was easy to pretend you weren’t aware of each other.

here, it felt personal.

at one point, you slipped out to the back porch just to breathe. the night air was cold, sharp against your skin, and you leaned against the railing, trying to shake the strange, restless ache coiling in your stomach.

inside, through the window, you saw him. standing near the door, head tilted slightly like he was scanning the crowd. and for a strange, dizzy moment you thought he might be looking for you. your eyes met again, framed by glass and distance and the thrum of music between you. neither of you looked away immediately this time.

you didn’t know what it meant. every glance felt like a collision you couldn’t sidestep.

so you stayed outside longer than you needed to, shivering against the night, waiting until you were sure he’d drifted somewhere else before you went back in.

you knew if you stayed out there any longer, you’d start thinking about him too much. so only when your skin felt painfully cold you went back inside. tried to weave yourself into the crowd, tried to blend into the background, tried to convince yourself it was just another party and nothing else.

it wasn’t working.

the moment you pushed through the crowd into the kitchen, you nearly collided with gojo.

he was leaning against the counter like he owned it, the kitchen light slanting over the sharp lines of his face. his empty red cup dangled loosely from his fingers, swinging slightly with the rhythm of the bass thudding from the other room. his posture screamed ease—shoulders loose, one ankle crossed over the other—but the way his eyes cut straight to you the instant you entered said something else entirely.

“oh,” he said, his voice dripping that too-easy drawl that always managed to scrape across your nerves. “look who finally came back down from their throne.”

you tightened your grip on your drink until the cold plastic bent in your hand with a faint crack. “move.”

he didn’t. he shifted only a fraction, enough to make it clear he’d heard you, but not nearly enough to let you pass. his broad frame filled the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, and suddenly it felt like you were trapped—boxed in by him, the counter, and the invisible weight of his gaze.

“what, no hey gojo, nice to see you outside of class?” he tilted his head, feigning a pout, his glasses slipping lower on the bridge of his nose. “you wound me.”

you leveled him with a glare sharp enough to kill. “i told you to move.”

but there was something different about the smile that curved his mouth: not the usual cocky smirk that grated at you across library tables or lecture halls. this one was thinner, cutting, an edge of something meaner beneath it.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he said at last. it wasn’t accusatory, just spoken flatly, like he’d been cataloguing every absence, every sidestep, every instance of you slipping away. it was true, but you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he was something you needed to avoid for your own peace of mind.

“don’t be delusional.”

his grin widened at that, but it was empty—no trace of the familiar glint in his eyes. “and here i thought we were rivals,” he said lightly. “enemies-to-whatever. you know, all that fun, dramatic shit people eat up. but your little speech in the hallway—” his voice curled around the memory, sharp with mockery, “kind of ruined the bit.”

“it wasn’t a bit,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. heat crawled up your chest, bitter and suffocating.

he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice into something close to a sneer. “yeah, i got that memo loud and clear. but you know, if you hated me so much, you could’ve said it months ago.” his shoulders lifted in a careless shrug, his gaze still cutting into you. “saved me the trouble of thinking you actually had… i don’t know, fun with me.”

your jaw locked so tight it ached.

he studied you like he always did when you were both hunched over exam sheets or clawing for top scores. that same calculating tilt of his head, as though you were nothing more than a problem he could eventually solve.

“but nah,” he went on, swirling the last sip of his drink idly before tipping it back. “you just played along, didn’t you? smiled, jabbed back, made it look like you could keep up. i almost bought it, too.”

your chest pulled tight, breath sticking as if there wasn’t enough air in the room.

“but maybe that’s all it was. you didn’t actually hate me. you just hated losing to me.”

the sentence landed like shattered glass in your lungs, every shard catching against your ribs.

for a second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. the steady thrum of music from the living room warped into a muffled roar, like you were underwater. the kitchen’s fluorescent bulb hummed loud above you, buzzing into your skull.

it was just him—his presence filling the narrow space, his words still echoing, his eyes boring into you with an intensity that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

too close. too bright. too much.

and the worst part was how he was looking at you.

not with amusement, not with indifference, but with something sharper, hungrier. like he wanted you to break right there in front of him, like he’d been pushing and pushing just to see where your edges finally cracked.

your heart was hammering against your ribs, the kind of rhythm that left your ears ringing, but your voice came out low, sharper than the rest of you felt. steady, or at least pretending to be.

“you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you said, the words biting through the hum of music leaking from the next room.

gojo smiled—slow, infuriating, that lazy curl of his mouth that always felt like he was two steps ahead in some game you hadn’t agreed to play. “sure i do.”

your hand tightened more around your drink until the plastic bent in your grip and you carelessly threw it on the counter. you shoved at his chest, not hard enough to knock him back but enough to carve out the space you needed to breathe. “get out of my way.”

he didn’t move.

instead, he tilted forward, the counter at his back keeping him braced in place, his frame cutting off the narrow kitchen doorway like he belonged there. the scent of him hit you before his body did—cheap beer, a faint edge of cologne, something warmer beneath it all, something him.

“c’mon,” he murmured, voice low, the kind of taunt that slithered under your skin. his lips were so close now you could see the faint curve of a smirk tugging at them. “if you really hate me that much, why can’t you even look at me without shaking?”

the heat in your chest flared, anger mixing with something you refused to name. “i said move.”

and then he dipped his head, closing that last sliver of air between you, and pressed his mouth to yours.

there was nothing gentle in it. no hesitation, no tenderness. it was abrupt, almost violent in its clumsiness—the rough press of lips against lips, hot breath ghosting across your cheek. his hand twitched upward like he might’ve cupped your jaw if you’d let him, if you’d stood still long enough.

but you didn’t.

the shock lasted only half a heartbeat before white-hot fury snapped through your nerves. your arm moved before thought could catch up—your palm slicing through the thin air between you until it cracked across his cheek.

the sound split the room like glass shattering. sharp, unmistakable.

for a heartbeat, the party outside seemed to dull, as if the music had been swallowed by the silence that dropped between you.

he froze. his head jerked to the side with the force, pale skin already flushing scarlet where your hand had struck. the shape of your fingers bloomed across his face, stark against his cheekbone, a mark that proved you’d drawn a line he’d never seen coming.

you stood rigid, chest heaving, your skin alive with the aftershock of adrenaline. your hand still tingled with the impact of the slap, but it wasn’t nearly enough to burn away the fury climbing your throat.

his eyes found yours again slowly. wide. searching. his pupils blown, mouth parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite gather the words.

and it was there, in the flicker of disbelief, in the rawness bleeding through his usual untouchable composure, that you knew he hadn’t expected it. not from you. not ever.

“don’t you ever do that again,” you spat, your hand still trembling from the force of it. the sting of skin-on-skin burned along your palm, a sharp, satisfying heat that did nothing to calm the fire thrumming through your chest. your breaths came fast, uneven, and you felt like the air around you was thick enough to taste.

the heat in your chest roared, climbing past your throat, searing through every nerve ending until it spilled into every word. “you think this is some kind of game, don’t you? me, you, all your little jokes, your smug comments—like the world and people exist just for you to play with.” your voice shook, fierce and raw, and the edges of it cut sharper than you’d intended.

his mouth opened, a half-formed protest curling on his tongue, but it didn’t come out. the usual arrogance in his expression was gone, replaced by a frozen, taut tension. for the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed… startled. unsettled.

“i told you i hated you,” you went on, the words nearly ripping themselves from your throat. your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, and still your chest felt too tight, as if it had been compressed and was now threatening to shatter. “and you still—god, you actually thought this was about something else. about flirting, or pretending, or whatever the hell goes on in that head of yours.”

around you, the party faded into a dull, muted hum. the laughter, the music, the chatter—none of it penetrated the bubble that had formed around the two of you. it was just you and him, two figures locked in a moment heavy enough to make your lungs ache.

“i hate you, gojo,” you hissed, teeth clenched, voice low and shaking. “i hate that you think money and a family name and a stupid smile are enough to get you anything you want. i hate that you think you can take something from me—take me—without even asking.” your chest heaved as the words tumbled out, bitter and jagged, shards of glass.

his jaw tightened visibly. you could see the strain in the muscles along his neck, the small flare of his nostrils as he inhaled sharply. he didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink.

“and i hate,” your voice broke, raw and ragged, “that everything i’ve worked for will never measure up to you just coasting through life. because it’s easy for you, isn’t it? it’s always easy.” the words felt like they were being torn out of you, each syllable leaving a burning trail across your chest and throat.

your hand dropped to your side, trembling, but the sting of the slap lingered, a fiery echo between you, a mark of the collision that had just happened. it was invisible to anyone else, but you could feel it in the tension that still vibrated between your bodies, in the way the air seemed heavier, charged, ready to snap.

“so don’t you dare,” you finished, voice shaking with fury and fatigue, “don’t you dare ever touch me again.”

then there was silence.

complete, suffocating silence.

gojo’s eyes—usually bright, untouchable, impossibly confident—were dark now, fixed on you in a way that made your stomach twist. it wasn’t just shock you saw there. it wasn’t just hurt. it was something heavier. something like… gravity, pulling and pressing and dragging, filling the space between you with a weight you could feel on your skin.

he blinked once, slowly, like he was trying to process the force of everything you’d just thrown at him. his usual smug curl of a grin was gone. the way he shifted his weight, the tension in his shoulders, the faint tremor of his fingers—he wasn’t used to this. he wasn’t used to you being like this.

and somewhere deep in the pit of your chest, as the adrenaline started to ebb, you realized neither of you knew how to move through the silence that followed.

🏷️ taglist(i just tagged everyone who reblogged/commented sorry if some of you are not interested guys i just thought you’d like to see it😭): @spencerreidsbitch @hahaifolded @uselessm1wa @pandabiene5115 @mvcg-oo @labelt-san @bakugouswaif @kaeyakaikai @baepsays @wwwdotkira @uziwork @pookiei-bookie @ermbehindyou @sophiethelesbian @moonlight-inthe-sea @mooseheadddd @coldhoneyy @mizquito @imnotabot28 @pinkhairedweird00 @no-one-is-here-55 @makimais @dyedscarletletter @indiewritesxoxo @sunnytalks @imnotabot28 @vegasbabyyyy @alverdekote @qichneyz @that-one-xachster @nallythequeen @venussxren @girlsoooconfusing @lvl109

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linalieana · 26 days ago

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🜼 ⋆ toji hates when you cover your face whilst he’s fucking you dumb

tw: spıt, degradation, rough sēx !

“fuckin’ move your hand.”

his voice slices through the thick slap of skin on skin, ragged and breathless, but not any softer for it. his hips grind into you, deep and deliberate, cock dragging along your walls like he’s angry at them. like they’re the reason you’re crying already.

and maybe they are. maybe he is.

you cover your face anyway, forearm thrown over your eyes like it’ll save you. there’s snot on your lip, tears in your hairline, and your voice’s all broken up. you keep trying to tell him something—something about how it’s too much, how he’s too deep, how you can’t stop coming, and he just laughs, a sharp huff against your cheek.

“tch—again?” toji spits, a little amused. a little cruel. “can’t even take a proper fuckin’ dick without fallin’ apart, huh?”

your hand trembles where it shields your face, like it wants to fall. like it knows better. but then he shifts his weight, catches your wrist, and yanks it down to the bed with a slap of sweat-slick skin on cotton.

“wanna see your fuckin’ face when you cry.”

you whimper when toji says that and he simply grins.

“there she is,” he murmurs like he’s mocking tenderness, hips rolling slow now, filthy and sticky, cock buried in you to the hilt. he gives a rough thrust, then another—each one lifting your back off the bed, forcing your chest to arch. “s’pretty when you sob. keep lookin’ at me, baby. don’t go hidin’ now.”

you can’t. he’s so deep it’s nauseating. so thick it feels like your cunt’s gone loose and raw trying to keep him in. his pelvis presses right where it shouldn’t and it makes you jolt, a breathless little hiccup of pain and heat that makes your thighs twitch.

he notices. of course he fucking does.

“you like that? yeah, i know you do,” he pants, voice getting rougher now. his hair’s stuck to his forehead, eyes dark as sin. “cryin’ like a fuckin’ whore but keep squeezin’ me like you’ll die if i pull out.”

he grabs your jaw—his hand huge, fingers curling rough around your throat just enough to make your breath skip. your mouth falls open on instinct, dumb and wet and desperate for more, and he spits right on your tongue. doesn’t ask. doesn’t wait.

“swallow it.” and oh you do.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

he starts moving again, really fucking you now, rough and deep, his balls slapping up against your ass, wet and relentless. the bedframe creaks like it’s gonna break. your head knocks into the pillow with every thrust, dizzy and messy and barely present in your own skin.

“you think i’m gonna let you cum like this? when you keep coverin’ your face like a brat?”

you sob out a “no—no, please—i’m.. toji ngh, i’m sorry,” and he chuckles dark. leans down until your noses brush, until you’re forced to look up into those black eyes while he ruins you.

“yeah,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “you are sorry.”

and then he fucks you harder.

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linalieana · 27 days ago

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— ACCIDENTS HAPPEN P2

cw - Mistaken identity, unintentional noncon, reader thinks Megumi is Toji, toji x reader in the end. Toji is ANGRY. Everyone is 18+, Not proofread :3

You’re still warm and drowsy from your nap, your brain barely awake and running on autopilot. The whole apartment smells like Toji—like sweat, cologne, and something masculine that sticks to your skin. One of his old t-shirts hangs off the sides of your shoulders, drowning your frame, it’s soft and stretched from being worn too many times. Your panties are clinging between your thighs, thin cotton soaked from sleep and heat and dreams you can’t fully remember.

The floor’s cold beneath your feet and gives you goosebumps as you slowly pad toward the living room, your body drawn to the sight of a familiar figure on the couch.

He’s laid out just like always—shirtless and relaxed with one arm behind his head, mouth slightly parted with his eyes closed. You don’t stop to think. You never do. You let out a cute huff as you straddle his face like it’s second nature, knees sinking into the soft couch cushion while your hand drifts back, lazily tugging your damp panties to the side and exposing your sensitive heat.

You spread yourself open, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as your cunt twitches from the sudden chill in the room, already glossy and decorated with the arousal slipping out of your little hole.

Your hips sink down slowly, closing in on his face until your horny pussy settles warm and dripping against his lips. A soft sigh of content slips from your parted lips as you feel him. His mouth is warm. His breath catches slightly and you smile sleepily, your hazy mind not noticing how stiff his whole body goes beneath you.

Megumi knows it’s you. There’s no one else it could be—no one else with a pussy lives here. The second you step into the room, the second he catches a glimpse of the soft curve of your thighs, the way your voice hums so softly through the quiet as you make your way to the couch—he knows. And he should’ve said something. Should’ve stopped you.

But what he didn’t expect was for you to casually tug your panties to the side and settle yourself right on his face without saying a single thing.

But he can’t. His mouth is already full of the intoxicating scent of your sweet pussy, the press of your swollen folds slicked up against his lips.

Your asshole flutters right in front of his nose as you shift forward, your hips beginning to glide over his mouth in slow, stuttering motions—like you’re already impatient he hasn’t started anything yet. Like you’re used to being worshipped in this way without having to ask. And maybe you were—Megumi wouldn’t question it. His dad always made sure you were a happy and content girl, after all.

His hands clench into fists at his sides. He tries not to move. He tries to hold his breath. But then he hears your whining little plea, “C’mon baby… lick me already, please…”

It’s instinct. Need. Hunger. He doesn’t mean to do it—his tongue just pushes out, tentative at first, barely flicking over your slit. You immediately moan and your head tilts back. High and soft and needy, so sweet he aches from it. Your hips rock forward, rubbing your clit over his mouth and that’s all it takes to egg him on. He licks you again. Longer this time. He presses the flat of his tongue right against your folds and drags it slowly upwards until your plushy thighs tense around his head.

His cock throbs beneath his sweats, hard and aching, and shame claws at the edge of his mind but it doesn’t matter. Not when you grind down again, sighing like you always do, chasing more of what you think is his father’s tongue.

You start to move more deliberately. Slow little humps against his mouth, back-and-forth glides of your cunt that smear slick across his lips and nose. Your panties are still tugged to the side, your skin warm and flushed, the curve of your ass so full and soft in his hands that he doesn’t even realize he’s gripping you.

Your fingers tangle in the couch cushions as your moans grow breathier and needier, your hips rolling with that sleepy rhythm you get when you’re right on the edge. “There you goooo,” you whispered with a hum, voice soft and dazed. “Just like that, daddy…” Megumi flinches at the name, the sound of it dragging him straight back to those sleepless nights—nights spent staring at the ceiling while your moans bled through the thin walls, breathy and sweet as you cried out that name to his father. His eyes squeeze shut, jaw tight, trying to shake the memory and focus on his very first pussy.

He wants to disappear. He wants to die. But he also wants to keep licking you until you cum on his tongue.

He eats you like he’s been waiting his whole life for it. His tongue dips into your leaking entrance, then back up to flick your clit. His mouth is open, wet, messy, and greedy, sucking softly at the parts of you that pulse and twitch the most. You don’t even know what you’re grinding on anymore—you’re too far gone, too needy, too clouded to care. His jaw aches. His face is soaked. His cock is straining so hard it’s painful. And when your thighs start to tremble, when your breath starts to hitch, when you whimper a soft, “I’m gonna cum!”—he forgets everything.

That’s when the door opens.

A shadow falls across the room. Megumi’s eyes go wide and his heart skips a beat.

You don’t even turn your head.

“…The fuck is going on in here?”

Toji’s voice is rough and dangerous. The tone makes it clear that he wasn’t in a good mood to begin with.

Your hips freeze then your whole body stiffens. And slowly—so slowly—you look down to see a pair of glassy purple eyes staring right back at you. Megumi’s mouth is still in your pussy. Still wet and frozen.

Your face drains of color.

You scramble back, panties snapping into place, eyes full of horror as the realization hits you like a truck.

“…You’re not Toji”.

Megumi doesn’t move during the confrontation. He can’t. He still tastes you on his tongue.

His entire body is locked, his face still sticky with your arousal, and his lips are parted like he might say something—anything but nothing comes out. Just shallow, panicked breaths as his throat bobs, frozen beneath the weight of what he’s done.

You’re curled in on yourself now, shaking on your feet. You look so small and terrified. Your hand clutches the hem of Toji’s shirt like it’s armor, like it could possibly hide what just happened, but your thighs are still glistening, twitching slightly from overstimulation. And Toji hasn’t taken a step. He just stands there in the doorway, keys still in his hand, jaw clenched so tightly it ticks.

The silence lasts a beat too long.

And then—

“Out,” Toji mutters—quietly and flat, no room for argument. It’s not a suggestion. It’s aimed straight at his son.

Megumi’s mouth opens, but no sound comes. He’s still breathless, still hard, still—

“I said get the fuck out”.

That time it’s louder, sharper and Final. Megumi finally scrambles off the couch, his head bowing down in embarrassment, avoiding both of your eyes. The second he stands, his sweats do nothing to hide how hard he is, and you flinch when you see the huge tent, one hand flying up to cover your mouth like it’ll undo the last ten minutes.

Toji watches it all with a look that doesn’t waver. Doesn’t blink. Just tracks Megumi’s every move as he silently walks past him like a ghost. Like a criminal. His footsteps vanish down the hall, and then his bedroom door shuts.

You don’t know what to say. Your lips tremble but your voice won’t work. Your heart is hammering. You can still feel Megumi’s mouth on you. You still taste sleep in the back of your throat, and you still don’t fully understand what you’ve done.

Toji stalks towards you like a predator slowly closing in on its prey. The weight of his heavy boots echoes across the floor. Your eyes dart up to him, swimming with fear—maybe even shame but he doesn’t stop.

He pauses right in front of you. His massive towering frame casts a shadow as he stares down. You look wrecked—hair tousled, cheeks flushed, lips damp. There’s a glint of your arousal still glistening at the edge of your thigh and his eyes catch on it, lingering.

“That…” he grits out, voice rough like gravel. “That’s what you look like when you think it’s me?”

His gaze doesn’t waver, it’s locked on your ruined expression like he’s daring you to answer.

You nod—numb, frightened, and barely breathing. But you can’t lie. Not to him. Not when the truth is still slick between your thighs.

He laughs. Just once with absolutely no humor in it.

“I leave for an hour… and you plant your soaked little pussy all over my kid’s mouth like it’s a goddamn habit?” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Then he slowly leans down to your height like an animal stalking prey and his fingers curl around your jaw. Not gentle, but not cruel either. Just firm enough that you can’t look away.

“Tell me the truth, baby,” he muttered terrifyingly calm. “You knew it wasn’t me the second he didn’t touch you back, didn’t you?”. His grip tightens just a little, coaxing the confession from your trembling lips.

You shake your head weakly and desperately—but his grip tightens enough to still you, thumb pressing against your cheek and he squishes it harder so your lips slightly pucker.

“You knew,” he repeats like he’s already decided. “You just didn’t wanna stop. Not with how sweet his mouth was. Right?”

Your breath hitches.

“You gonna cum for anyone who lets you sit on their face now? Or just anyone with my last name?”

Your face crumples like you might cry but you don’t. You just stare at him like you’ve finally woken up from whatever haze had you crawling onto the wrong face.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No baby. You did—you just didn’t care”.

And when he finally lets go of your jaw, you sag in place like all the heat has been drained from your bones but he’s not done.

He kneels in front of you.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his hand moves between your thighs, fingers dragging your panties to the side—again. You gasp, instinctively trying to close your legs, but he stops you with a harsh look.

“Toji—”

“Don’t,” he snaps harshly. “You didn’t want him to stop. You’re not stopping me either”.

Two fingers slide through the slick that Megumi’s tongue left behind. He hums, almost thoughtfully. “Still soaked,” he murmurs. “Cunt’s still throbbing. You’re so fucking messy it’s like you’re begging me to clean up after him”.

His thumb presses right against your clit and you jerk, your breath catching into a sob.

“You better pray I don’t make you finish right here,” he mutters, voice low and threatening but laced with certainty, like that’s exactly what he intends. “Loudly too. Let him hear what it sounds like when the real man does it properly”.

And you don’t know what’s worse: the guilt churning in your stomach…

…or the shameful heat that pulses between your thighs while imagining what’s going to happen.

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linalieana · 27 days ago

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Megumi really tries to focus—he does. But it’s not his fault you’re leaning over like that, tits practically spilling out of your tank top, the soft warmth of your breath brushing against his cheek every time you explain something, close enough to make his pulse trip.

“You’re not listening,” you murmur impatiently, eyes narrowing at the page in front of you. “That’s why you keep messing up your slope formula”.

He mumbles something noncommittal, pencil clenched tightly in his sweaty hand, but he’s looking everywhere except at the math problem in front of him.

Toji’s in the other room, the sound of the shower running in the background, and you’re kneeling on the floor beside Megumi, leaning in close with one arm braced on the table for balance. Your tank top rides low—really low—and every time you shift or move your hand to gesture, the soft curve of your tits jiggles, just enough to make it impossible for him to focus on anything else.

Megumi gulps, jaw locked, eyes almost watering and fixed stubbornly on the paper in front of him. He refuses to tilt his head even an inch to the right—because he knows the second he does, he’s going to catch a glimpse of your soft cleavage… and probably die right there on the spot.

“Megumi,” you say softly, nudging his pencil with yours. “This part right here—you forgot to distribute”.

He nods too quickly. “Right. Yeah. I got it”.

“No, you don’t,” you laugh, your hand settling lightly on his arm as you brace in closer—your boobs almost touching against his forearm now. “Relax. I’ll take it slow”.

Megumi swears under his breath.

“Did you say something?” you ask curiously, blinking innocently.

He shakes his head hard, ears pink. “N-No. Just thinking”.

You’re completely unaware—or pretending to be. He’s not sure which is worse. Especially when you frown, shift onto your knees, and your chest fully presses into his bicep and squishes softly against the hard muscle while you point to the equation again.

“Now this is the x-intercept, see?”

He doesn’t see. He sees tits. And he hears the water turn off down the hall, hears his dad humming low under his breath.

Megumi bolts upright.

“I—I need a break. I’m gonna go smoke”.

You blink with your brows knitted, confused by what he means because he’s always scolding his dad every time he smokes. “You don’t smoke?”

“I do now,” he mutters, practically tripping over the chair as he stumbles toward the door.

And as he disappears, Toji walks into the room, towel slung around his neck as he dries his wet hair, one brow raised in quiet curiosity.

“Kid okay?”

You blink up at him with a cute, innocent look on your face. “I was just helping with homework…?”

Toji glances down at your tank top, at how the neckline dips low from the way you’ve been leaning forward—exposing the smooth, swollen swell of your tits. He clicks his tongue, a slow smirk tugging at the corner his lips

“Yeah. I bet you were”.

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linalieana · 28 days ago

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18+

best friend!satoru who eats you out for the first time as your second birthday gift. you’d joked about needing a second dessert after cake and he’d shrugged, carried you bridal style to the couch, pinned your thighs over his shoulders and said, “you want me to put frosting on it or nah?” you thought he was kidding. you learned he was not.

best friend!satoru who gets painfully hard when you wear his clothes, but doesn’t bother to hide it.

best friend!satoru who lets you borrow anything from his closet, and steals from yours constantly. “mutual property. yours is mine, mine is yours. if you see me decked out in your miniskirt, i don’t want to hear a word,” and he means it—full on struts past you one morning in your crop top, showing off his slutty waist like it’s his god-given right, looking back only to say: “you left it on the floor. you forfeited ownership.”

best friend!satoru who’s your lingerie consultant. even when you’re dating someone else, he always insists on helping you “rate” the pieces you wear for The Other Guy. “7.5. makes your tits look great, but you’re gonna waste that on him?” weeks later, you realize half those sets went missing.

best friend!satoru who feeds you fries off his plate. dips them in sauce and holds them up to your lips. always pretends to miss your mouth so he can press his greasy fingers against your bottom lip and go “oops, messy girl.” and chuckles when you lick or bite his fingers in retaliation.

best friend!satoru who lets you use his card when you’re sad. doesn’t ask what for, just sends you a selfie of him pouting with a “buy smth pretty so you don’t cry” caption. if you don’t spend at least $300, he gets personally offended.

best friend!satoru who showers with you “to save the environment,” but spends more time helping you exfoliate your back and rinse your conditioner out than actually washing himself. you turn around once and catch him palming himself lazily under the stream. “oh,” he says, blinking. “you can keep singing, don’t mind me.”

best friend!satoru who has zero boundaries when it comes to your body. he adjusts your straps, straightens your necklaces, zips you into dresses from behind with such painstaking care that should not be so casual.

best friend!satoru who hasn’t fucked you, but has definitely slept curled around you like a body pillow on many occasions. who dry humps you during cuddles—not even always consciously. sometimes it’s in the middle of a movie, arms wrapped around you, hips rocking languidly against your ass while you eat popcorn. other times he full-on moans in his sleep.

best friend!satoru who is that annoying best friend who accidentally walks in while you’re changing.

best friend!satoru who kisses your forehead chastely. who holds your hand walking through crowds. who likes to pull you into his chest and rest his chin on the top of your head

best friend!satoru who gets hard watching you cry over your ex. not out of cruelty—he hates seeing you hurt, truly—but you’re sobbing into his chest, voice wobbling through half-formed sentences, and it does something to him. part of him wants to cheer you up with takeout and movies. the other part wants to fuck you so good you forget that asshole’s name entirely.

best friend!satoru who keeps saying “it’s not sexual unless you cum” like that’s a rule in the friend handbook.

best friend!satoru who never asks you to be his, because he knows the second you say yes, he’s compromised. you’ll become the one thing he can’t afford to lose. he keeps you close, but not close enough that someone could make you a target. as the strongest, he’s spent his whole life being selfless for the sake of everyone else. but he’s just not sure he’d know how to be selfless with you.

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linalieana · 28 days ago

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18+

roommate!geto who always calls you princess in a tone so dry you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or trying to make your brain leak out your ears. probably both.

roommate!geto who’s insufferably good at playing the long game. you think you’re teasing him—walking around in tiny shorts, eating popsicles like a suggestive brat—but he’s the one leaving your vibrator out of batteries and pretending he has no idea where the charger went. “you sure you don’t wanna ask me for help instead?”

roommate!geto who saunters out of the bathroom shirtless, towel slung low on his hips, fully aware that your eyes are fixed on the deep cut of his v-line. he catches the exact moment you drop your spoon into your cereal; a knowing smirk curling at the edge of his mouth while water trails down his chest in slow rivulets. “you’re welcome,” he says, hair tie held between his teeth as he gathers his hair into a bun. then, cocking his head slightly, “you want a better look, or you good with the preview?”

roommate!geto who is sooo petty. one time he got high and leaned over the couch to whisper in a seductive tone, “you wanna kiss me, huh?” then laughed it off when you threw a pillow at him. two weeks later, when you’re drunk and do try to kiss him, he pulls back slightly, lips a hair’s breadth away. “oh, so now you want to?” (he kisses you anyway)

roommate!geto who watches you strut around the apartment in those flimsy little sleep shorts, then hums, “you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?” without looking up from his phone. and when you say no, scandalised, he smirks and goes, “then fix your face, princess. you’re pouting like you miss my fingers.”

roommate!geto who is weirdly domestic the morning after he fucks you dumb. hair half up, skin adorned with pink crescents your teeth have left. humming while he busies himself with making breakfast. “you want eggs or… wait. can you even sit right now?”

roommate!geto who generously allows you to borrow his hoodie, then asks for it back while you’re wearing nothing under it. “hand it over,” he says faux-affably.

roommate!geto who keeps the place clean but passive-aggressively complains if you don’t. he’ll just wipe the counter pointedly while sighing, “amazing. i love being the wife.”

roommate!geto who hears the shower running and your voice calling faintly down the hall— “suguru? can you grab me a towel?” or “shit—my clothes fell, i think they’re in the hamper-”and he doesn’t answer. the silence stretch so long that you wonder if he even heard. then your phone buzzes on the edge of the sink. i didn’t hear you clearly. what do you need? cock? towel? new clothes? you stare at it, water still slicking down your thighs. he still barges in with whatever you asked for—tossing it onto the counter without looking at you.

roommate!geto who fingerfucks you on his bed, saying “you moan like a liar,” when you try to be quiet. makes you say what you want out loud. “hm, you don’t need to cum. not if you’re going to lie to me about how bad you want it.”

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linalieana · 28 days ago

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𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝖥𝖳: 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𑄻𑄾

𑄻𑄾—“Sit pretty, again,”

You feel it before you even settle—his stomach mouth opens again beneath you, wide and wet and starving, tongue snaking up between your legs like it remembers the shape of your cunt. It flicks up, impatient, like it missed you.

You arch your back instinctively, but his lower hands are already on you—one shoving your hips down, the other spreading your ass to give that greedy tongue everything it wants. Your face is flushed against his chest, sticky with his earlier cum, but you moan loud when the tongue starts lapping at you again, deeper, messier, wetter than before.

And he’s still jacking off.

You can feel the sharp tug of his movements above you—his two top hands, each wrapped around a thick dick, stroking furiously as he watches your body twitch over his mouth. His groans echo through his stomach, vibrating your pussy like a toy.

“You’re fuckin’ sick, y’know that?” he pants, grinning down at you, veins in his neck popping from effort. “Bent over my tongue while I beat my dick like a slut.”

You sob into his skin, but your hips won’t stop rocking. You’re grinding back against that monstrous tongue now, messy and reckless, while it slathers you in hot spit, thrusting in and out of you with obscene sounds.

“Ohhh, that’s it—ride it like a good little toy,” he snarls. “You feel that? My stomach’s fuckin’ moaning for you. Dripping. Bet you’d let me fuck you with it if I had a dick there too.”

Your whole body spasms. That should sound horrifying, disgusting—but your mind’s gone fuzzy with overstimulation and the only thing that comes out is a wrecked little whimper.

“Goddamn,” he groans, both his cocks twitching, leaking as he fists them faster. “You’re squeezin’ my tongue like you wanna make it cum. You want me to shoot all over your back again, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering.

He laughs—low and dark. Then he leans over you, one hand still jerking himself, the other gripping your ass as the stomach tongue fucks into you harder.

“You’re not gettin’ off this thing ‘til I see you shake. Squirt on it.”

Your moans turn into screams. Your body trembles. Your slick gushes out in waves down his waiting tongue—

And then Sukuna explodes above you, twin streams of hot cum shooting across your back and thighs, while he growls your name through gritted teeth like he’s branding it into your soul!

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linalieana · 1 month ago

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Twirling Hearts- part 5

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. it’s the finally so i went all out.

word count: 8k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of your laptop. You sat on the couch, finishing the last bit of your online class, while Sieun leaned beside you, lazily flipping through your math assignment.

“You missed this step.” He murmured, pointing to the page. “You distributed wrong here.”

You leaned in, your arm brushing his. “Oh—right. I forgot the negative.”

He nodded, calm and unbothered. He wasn’t teasing or judging, just stating the facts. There was a quiet concentration in him, but something gentler beneath it. Something lighter, as if the weight he usually carried had eased, if only for a moment.

Once the assignment was finished, the rest of the day passed without urgency. You reheated some leftovers and shared them cross-legged on the floor, talking about small, unimportant things. Every so often, your phone buzzed with a message. The boys were checked in to make sure you were doing okay. When Baku sent a ridiculous meme, you showed the messages to Sieun, who rolled his eyes and muttered. “Idiot.” There was no real bite to it. Just something that almost sounded like affection. The kind he didn’t quite know how to express out loud.

By evening, the sunlight had faded into a gentle glow, filling the room with a quiet calm. The TV flickered with some show neither of you cared about, the volume low and easy to ignore. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, nestled into Sieun’s side, his arm resting around you. His fingers moved slowly through your hair, gentle and absentminded, like it was second nature. He was quiet, but not in a distant way. This silence felt warm. Familiar. Safe.

“Hey.” His voice came softer than usual, hesitant. “Do you wanna come with me? To the hospital?”

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his face, his eyes fixed on the ceiling while his fingers continued to drift gently through your hair.

“To see my friend…” He said. “The one I told you about. He’s still not awake. But I sometimes go after school.”

There was something raw in his tone. Not fragile, but exposed. It didn’t feel like a casual question. It felt more like an invitation into a space he kept hidden, a quiet part of him that lived in silence.

You looked at him, eyes soft. “I’d really like to meet him.” You said quietly. “If he’s someone important to you… then he matters to me too.”

Something shifted in Sieun’s expression, quiet but clear. His gaze lingered on you, steady and unspoken. There was a softness there, something hard to name. Maybe it was trust. Or maybe a quiet kind of gratitude.

He didn’t smile, but his hand paused in your hair for a moment. He held your gaze, quiet and steady, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it felt like thanks. Genuine and wordless.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bus hummed beneath you, the city passing by in quiet blurs of motion and light. You sat beside Sieun, close enough that your shoulder brushed his. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down, eyes scanning the screen. A soft sigh left him.

“It’s Gotak.” He said. “Baku challenged Baekjin. Wants to settle things this weekend.”

You turned slightly toward him. “Seriously?”

He nodded, already typing a response. “Yeah. Other student from the school are probably going to join the fight. I told them I’d help figure something out.”

He said it so evenly, so calmly, that it caught you off guard. No panic. No frustration. Just quiet focus. You watched him for a moment, wondering how he could stay so composed with something like that looming, but that was who he was. He was always planning ahead.

When the bus came to a stop, you both stepped off together into the cool air. The hospital stood a few blocks ahead, pale and still under the fading light. Inside, the air was sharp with disinfectant. The receptionist handed over a clipboard without a word, and Sieun filled in both your names. You followed him down a long hallway, past rooms and nurses and the faint, steady beep of machines.

At last, you reached the door.

He stopped in front of it, his hand hovering just near the handle.

“I haven’t been inside for a long time.” He said, not looking at you. “I usually sit out here. On that bench.” He nodded towards it. “I text his phone. Tell him stuff about my day. School. Random things. Pretend he’s reading it.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

His fingers twitched slightly at his side. “But I think… I want to go in today.”

You gave a small nod, just enough for him to notice. You didn’t need to say anything. You were here, and that was enough.

After a moment, Sieun reached for the handle. His shoulders rose with a breath, then lowered as he slowly pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle hiss of the oxygen machine. Sieun’s friend lay completely still beneath the pale hospital sheets, an oxygen mask covering his face. Thin wires and IV lines ran from his arms to a nearby machine.

Sieun lingered at the side of the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on his friend. After a moment, he stepped forward and eased into the chair beside him. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for once, he didn’t try to hold himself so tightly together

“Hey, Suho.” He said, his voice soft. “It’s been a while.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, eyes locked on the boy lying in front of him. You stayed quiet, listening and letting him have the space he needed.

“I brought someone with me today.” He continued quietly. “It’s Y/N. The girl I’ve been texting you about.”

His voice caught slightly, just for a second, but he didn’t stop.

“She’s the one who always looks at me like I’m more than I am. You’d probably roll your eyes and say I’ve gone soft.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked down then, fingers lacing together in his lap.

“I really wish you’d wake up now.” He said, and this time his voice was lower. More raw. “It’s been so long. I keep thinking… maybe tomorrow. But it’s never tomorrow...”

He leaned back slightly, looking at Suho’s face. His eyes were tired, but open in a way that didn’t happen often. Honest. Unshielded.

“I don’t know what else to say.” He admitted. “But I thought you should meet her. Even like this.”

His voice trailed off, and he sat there, quiet, looking at the boy who used to sit beside him in class. The boy who used to make him feel like he wasn’t alone.

You stepped forward without a word and gently placed your hand on Sieun’s shoulder. He didn’t look up, but you felt the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“Hi, Suho. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, voice calm, steady despite the tightness in your chest. “Don’t worry about Sieun. I’ll keep an eye on him while we wait for you to come back.”

For a few seconds, the room was quiet again.

Then you noticed the tears trailing silently down Sieun’s cheeks. He stayed where he was, unmoving, eyes steady on Suho. The tears came slowly, tracing quiet paths down his cheeks. He let them fall. There was no outburst, only the quiet ache of someone who had been holding everything in for far too long.

He looked at Suho like he wanted to speak, like the words were there but just out of reach. His jaw tightened, and his hands curled slightly in his lap. The silence around him was not empty. It was filled with everything he could not bring himself to say. Grief. Frustration. Longing.

And in that quiet, it became clear. The hope inside him was still alive, small and aching. It sat heavy in his chest, steady and painful. The kind of hope that hurts just to carry.

You stayed beside him, your hand resting gently on his shoulder and you knew that just being there was all he needed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You stepped out of the hospital side by side, the automatic doors closing behind you with a hush that felt too final. The sky had darkened while you were inside. Sieun walked close to you, quiet, his hand brushing against yours before he gently took it. He didn’t squeeze. He just held on, like he needed the contact to remind himself he was still here, still allowed to feel something.

You glanced at him. His face was tired, unreadable, but there was something fragile in eyes.

“If you want, you can come to my place.” You said softly. “But if you need time alone, or to go home… I’ll understand.”

He didn’t look at you. He just walked beside you, his eyes fixed ahead. Then he said, softly. “I’ll stay. As long as you’ll have me.”

That hurt, the way he said it. Like he was asking permission just to exist. “You’re always welcome at my place.”

And you meant it. Every word.

But he slowed his steps a little, eyes dropping to the pavement.

“I should stop by my apartment first.” He murmured. “Just to grab some clothes. A few things.”

When you reached his building, you felt something in him shift. His steps slowed just slightly, his grip on your hand tightened before he lets go to unlock the door.

His apartment felt colder than you expected. Not physically, but in the way it seemed to carry no warmth at all. The light from the ceiling was faint, casting more shadows than comfort. His mother was on the couch with her phone in her hand. She didn’t look up until the door closed behind you. She stood up.

“There you are.” She snapped. “You didn’t call. You don’t even think about me, did you?”

Then she saw you.

Her words trailed off as her eyes shifted to your face. She blinked, clearly thrown. For a moment, she just stared, like she couldn’t quite figure out where you’d come from or why you were standing next to her son. You bowed quickly. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Y/N.” You said politely.

She didn’t reply. Her eyes stayed on you for a second too long before shifting back to Sieun.

“This is what you’ve been doing?” She said, her voice rising. “Running around with a girl while I sit here worried? How can you be so selfish? Can’t you think about me for once?”

You froze. But Sieun...

He turned around slowly to face her, his voice steady, too calm. “Since when do you care what I do?”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t care before I moved in.” He said. “Back when I lived with Dad, you didn’t call. You didn’t ask how I was doing. You just liked getting the report cards. I was a good son, right? As long as you had something to brag about at work or to your friends…”

“That’s not true.” She said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t know how hard it’s been for me. I did my best—”

“Right.” He cut in. “You’re the one who had it hard. I get it. Raising a kid who was always sick, always quiet, always a little bit too much trouble.” He said it with no heat. Just exhaustion. A truth repeated too many times in his head. “I didn’t move in with you because I wanted to.” He added. “I had to. The school’s closer. That’s all.”

“Don’t act like I never cared about you—”

“You cared when it made you look good.” He said. “When I was getting awards. When the teachers called home. You smiled and told everyone how proud you were. But when I needed you….When I was having a hard time …You didn’t even notice… Because you were never there.”

She stood there, stunned, like she couldn’t believe he’d say those things out loud. Like she was the one being attacked. “Sieun, don’t say things like—”

“Our relationship worked better when you ignored me.” He continued. “I wish you’d stop pretending we’re something we’re not. We’ve never been close. We don’t have a normal mother-son relationship. We never did. I’m not trying to fight. Please, let’s stop pretending.”

He turned to head to his room, but paused in the doorway. “I’ll text, sometime.” He added, voice quieter now. “I’ll come back every now and then. This is still home, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I just… need space. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

For a second, her face shifted. Something like guilt flickered there, but it passed quickly.

Without waiting for a reply, he walked in his room. You bowed slightly again and followed him. He packed fast. Efficient. Like he knew exactly what he needed and wanted to leave before anything else could be said. Clothes, toothbrush, charger, hoodie. A few books. His hands were steady, but his silence was loud.

“Even when I was little. Even when I was scared or sick. She’d tell people how hard it was for her. And I thought maybe if I worked harder, she’d… see me differently.” He muttered.

You stepped closer, placing your hand gently on his arm. “You don’t have to keep earning love that should’ve been given.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just zipped his bag and stood there for a second, staring at the floor. Then he nodded.

You walked out with him. His mother didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The week dragged on, each day heavier than the last. Everyone at Eunjang felt it, even if no one said anything out loud. It was in the way conversations stopped when certain names were mentioned. In how Baku’s usual teasing quieted down, replaced with short nods and long silences. Even Sieun seemed different. Calmer on the outside, but more distant, like he was already somewhere else.

The Union had gone too far. Taking you had crossed a line, and Baekjin knew that. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to pull Baku into a corner where he’d finally have no choice but to fight back. But if Baekjin thought fear would win, he clearly didn’t know Baku as well as he used to.

The fight was set for Saturday. Earlier in the week, Sieun, Baku, and Gotak had asked you not to join, almost in unison.

“This one’s going to be bad.” Baku said, voice low. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near it.”

You knew they were right.

Not to be cliché, but you were a ballerina. You weren’t the violent type. You didn’t fight with your fists. Your world was built on discipline, control, the ache of movement, not the sting of bruises. They had told Juntae not to fight as well. He had argued at first, of course. Juntae wasn’t one to sit back when the rest of them were moving forward. But this time, they wouldn’t let him. Especially Gotak. He had pulled him aside early in the week, voice low but firm.

“You’ve done enough.” He said. “We need you safe.”

Juntae wasn’t the strongest physically, and he knew it. But mentally, he held them together. He was the one who always brought them back when they lost focus. The one who reminded them what mattered when things went too far. Without him, the group wouldn’t be what it was. He finally agreed on the condition that he could watch from afar with you, just in case things got out of control.

Saturday came by faster than you would have liked. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. The field was nothing but mud and gravel. You stood far from the fight, far enough to stay out of reach, but close enough to see everything. Beside you, Juntae stayed still under his umbrella, the rain tapping steady against the fabric. You gripped your own a little tighter, heart lodged somewhere in your throat.

Out on the field, boys from Eunjang gathered slowly, their silhouettes dark against the gray sky. Every single one of them wore their school uniform. The same navy blue blazer and white shirt with the striped tie. It wasn’t about school pride. It was about unity. About letting the Union know they weren’t scared. Not anymore.

Baku stood at the front, eyes fixed across the field. Gotak beside him, stone-faced. Sieun stood a little behind them, calm and unreadable. He didn’t look around. He just stared forward like he already knew exactly what had to be done.

The Union stood across from them. Less of them than expected. Word had gotten around, and many of their members had backed out at the last second. Maybe they realized Baekjin wasn’t invincible after all. Or maybe they just didn’t want to bleed for someone else’s pride.

And then Baku stepped forward. He raised his voice just enough to be heard through the storm.

“Na Beakjin!” He screamed

The Union’s leader didn’t move.

“If you lose.” Baku shouted. “This is the end of the Union!”

Baekjin tilted his head slightly, but didn’t answer to him. You saw his mouth move slightly, like he was talking to his gang members. You couldn’t understand from this far.

After that, a battle shout resounded and all the umbrellas dropped.

You saw the first punch fly. Then another. Then it became impossible to keep track.

You and Juntae stood frozen in place. Mud was splashing everywhere. Baku tore straight for Baekjin like nothing else mattered. Gotak crashed into a group like a wrecking ball, clearing space for his friends. And Sieun…

He fought like the rain didn’t touch him. Calm. Focused. Every hit with purpose. He didn’t shout or snarl like the others. He just moved. Quick and brutal and silent.

Baku and Baekjin stood across from each other now. Around them, the chaos kept going. There was fists and shouts and soaked uniforms slamming into mud… But this moment belonged to them. Old friends. Now enemies. You didn’t need to know all the history to feel the weight of it in the air.

Baku didn’t waste time.

He lunged first, going for Baekjin’s shoulders, quick and brutal. Every hit aimed high. You could tell he was trying to wear him down, knock the strength out of his arms before it built up. His fists were loud, messy, full of heat. The kind of fighting that looked like it came from the heart or maybe even the guts.

Baekjin’s moves were tighter, smarter. Everything was deadly precise. When he managed to land a hit, it made Baku stagger.

Still, Baku didn’t stop. Not until Baekjin caught him clean across the jaw.

You saw it happen. Baku’s knees giving out, his body dropping into the mud like it weighed twice as much. Your breath caught in your throat and you grabbed Juntae’s sleeve. Juntae didn’t say a word. He just lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, eyes glassy with disbelief

The rain halted abruptly, as though the sky itself had paused in anticipation.

Your umbrella hung limp at your side, water still dripping from the edges. You didn’t notice it anymore. Your eyes were fixed on the middle of the field, heart beating too fast to count.

Baekjin stepped over him, breath heavy.

“Who’s next?” He shouted, chest rising and falling. “Come on! I’ll take all of you!”

The rest of the field had gone still. Not a single punch thrown. They were all watching now.

Gotak took one step forward, fists already clenched.

But Sieun stopped him.

A single hand on the shoulder. Nothing more.

Gotak looked back, unsure for only a second. Then he let him pass.

Sieun stepped into the open without a word. No words. No expression. Just calm.

You gripped the fabric of your Juntae’s blazer.

He ducked the first swing with barely a flinch, wrapping around Baekjin’s leg like he’d studied every move in advance. Where Baku had gone for the upper body, Sieun went low. You saw the glint of metal in his fist — brass knuckles. He didn’t hesitate. He drove it into Baekjin’s leg, again and again, forcing him to buckle.

Baekjin staggered, but didn’t fall.

The two of them circled each other. This wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t about power anymore. It was about two minds trying to out-think each other while their bodies gave out underneath them. Sieun hit Baekjin again, but he swung back fast, catching Sieun in the shoulder, then the ribs. Hard. You flinched.

You had stepped forward without realizing it.

“Sieun—!”

Juntae grabbed your wrist. “Don’t. Let him handle it.”

Your chest ached with how hard your heart was pounding. Your legs felt heavy, like the ground was pulling at your feet. All you could do was watch, barely blinking, eyes locked on Sieun as he took another blow and staggered back. You wanted to run to him when Baekjin landed another strike that sent him to the ground. Mud streaked across his face as he coughed, trying to breathe through the pain.

Baekjin walked up to him, blood at the corner of his mouth. “What is this?” He asked, voice hoarse. “Is this still part of your little plan, Sieun?”

Sieun turned his head slightly, dirt on his cheek. His voice was soft. “Still within the margin of error.”

And just as Baek-jin turned to look at him again —

Baku got back up.

You almost shouted.

He moved like a shadow out of the fog, face bloodied, jaw bruised, eyes burning. And then…one clean swing.

A punch to the side of Baekjin’s head.

It landed so hard you heard the crack echo across the field, like a branch snapping clean in two.

Baekjin hit the ground.

Then Baku stood over him, breathing hard. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but you heard it.

“I’m sorry.” He said, eyes sad. “But you should be sorry to me too.”

It was over.

The Union had fallen.

Cheers erupted from the Eunjang students behind you, the sound wild and raw.

Baku turned and looked at Sieun, still lying in the dirt. Without a word, he crouched and helped him up.

You and Juntae ran toward them. You couldn’t stay still anymore.

The rain had started again, light this time. Just a steady, cold drizzle, like the storm was finally winding down.

When you reached them, Sieun was on his feet, but just barely. His lip was split, blood at the corner of his mouth, and scratches ran along his cheek and jaw. Dirt clung to his uniform, and bruises were already blooming across his cheek. He still had the brass knuckles gripped tightly in one hand.

He was staring at Baekjin, who was still lying in the mud. Awake, but not moving. His face was streaked with tears, silent and steady, like he didn’t even realize he was crying.

There was no triumph on Sieun’s face. No pride.

Only pity.

And something else.

Like he’d seen this play out before, and already knew how it ended.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Back at your apartment, the quiet felt heavier than usual. The fight was over, but it hadn’t really left either of you.

Sieun had just come out of the shower, a towel still hanging loose around his shoulders. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the bruises stood out darker now, stark against his skin. You didn’t say anything. Just patted your bed and waited for him to sit.

He did, slowly, shoulders stiff. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit, hands working in silence.

His knuckles were torn open, raw from the brass. You cleaned them gently, not looking up as he watched you. The scratches on his cheeks were superficial, but angry-looking. You pressed a cotton pad to each one and taped them without a word.

When you dabbed alcohol onto the cut on his lip, he flinched. AYou didn’t comment. Just moved slower after that. Careful. Steady.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft rustle of the bandages and the faint drip of water from his hair hitting the floor.

“I know it wasn’t easy.” You said quietly. “But I’m proud of you.”

His eyes flicked up, surprised.

“Not because you won.” You added. “But because you stood up for everyone. You didn’t have to, but you did anyway.”

Sieun looked down again, jaw tight.

You hesitated, then went on. “Baekjin… I don’t think he’s the monster everyone says he is. He looked… lost, honestly.”

His fingers twitched slightly at that, but he didn’t interrupt.

“But that doesn’t excuse what he did.” You said, voice steady. “People go through awful things — I get that. But it doesn’t give them the right to hurt everyone around them because of it.”

Sieun looked at you, quiet. There was no surprise in his eyes…just a tired sort of understanding, like he’d already been thinking the same thing.

“I’m just glad you were the one who stepped up.” You continued. “Because you didn’t fight out of pride. You fought because you cared.”

You didn’t press him for a response. You just kept tending to him in silence, dabbing gently at the cut on his lip, brushing antiseptic over the scrapes along his knuckles.

You handed him a couple of painkillers and a glass of water, and he took them without a word. Then you grabbed the ice pack you’d left on the nightstand and pressed it lightly to the bruise forming beneath his eye.

A few seconds passed like that, his eyes on yours, the cold pack resting between your fingers, and your hand on his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then, softly, like it was the only thing left to say, he murmured. “I love you.”

You just looked at him for a moment, then smiled.

“I know.” You said. “I love you too.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke up to the sound of quiet breathing and the soft weight of an arm around your waist. The room was still, dim with early light. For a while, you just stayed there, letting yourself feel it.

Sieun was asleep next to you, lying close. His body was warm against yours, solid. Familiar. His face still carried the traces of the fight. There were bruises along his cheekbone, a swollen lip, fading red scratches near his jaw, but none of it took away from how pretty he looked.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. His grip tightened, just a little, like his body was used to holding onto yours. Carefully, you reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from his face and smiled to yourself.

You’d shared a bed before, more than once, but this time felt different. Being next to him wasn’t just comforting…it made something inside you feel steady. Like you’d been holding your breath without realizing, and now you could finally let it out.

You looked at him again, at the mess of his dark hair falling across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest. And just for a moment, you let yourself think it…

Waking up next to Sieun might be your favorite thing in the world.

Sieun stirred beside you, a quiet shift of the blanket and a faint scrunch of his brow as he blinked awake. His voice was still rough with sleep when he let out a low, muffled sound.

You laughed, barely, and leaned in to press a light kiss to his cheek, careful not to touch the bruised parts. “Morning.” You whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, just looked at you with half-lidded eyes, like he was still trying to figure out where he was. His body was slow to move, stiff from the fight, but he didn’t flinch when you shifted away.

“I’ll get your meds.” You said quietly, slipping out from under the covers.

In the kitchen, you filled a glass of water and grabbed the painkillers. When you returned, he had sat up slightly, resting against the headboard with one arm draped across his stomach.

“Do you want more ice for your bruises?” You asked.

He took the medication without complaining this time, his fingers brushing yours. Then he shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” His voice was rougher than usual, but steady. You sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the glass of water.

He took the glass, brushing your hand in the process, and swallowed the pills without a word. You watched his throat move, his busted lip stretching slightly as he drank. He winced, but didn’t say anything. He gave the glass back with a small nod of thanks, still drowsy, his body heavy with leftover exhaustion.

Without thinking, your fingers drifted up into his hair, lightly combing through the soft strands. He didn’t speak. He just let out a slow, contented sigh and closed his eyes, his body relaxing more with each pass of your hand. It was subtle, but you could feel it…the way he leaned into your touch like he needed it.

When you paused for just a moment, his eyes cracked open and he let out a quiet, disappointed groan.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That good, huh?”

He smirked faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. “Don’t stop.”

Your hand stayed in his hair, gentle and slow, until you felt the tension completely leave his body.

“You’re staring.” He said softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” You murmured, not bothering to deny it. “You’re pretty. Even like this.”

He gave a tired, crooked smile. “That’s not true.”

You leaned in just a little, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “It is.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just watched you, the softness in his eyes growing deeper by the second. And when you leaned closer, carefully and slowly, he didn’t pull back.

Your lips pressed the lightest kiss to the uninjured side of his mouth, just a brush of warmth. He let out a small breath, almost like a sigh, and his hand found your hip under the blanket.

Sieun’s fingers curled slightly and he pulled you just a little closer. His eyes were still half-lidded, and the way he looked at you now, steady and drawn in, sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

Then he leaned in again, this time aiming for more than just a soft brush. You felt the shift in him, the way he tilted his head slightly, searching for a deeper kiss.

You stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Sieun.” You said gently, a quiet laugh in your voice. “You’re still healing. Your lip—”

“I’m fine. I swear.” He murmured, voice low, almost a whisper against your skin.

You looked at him for a moment, searching his face for even a flicker of pain. But there was only that same calm certainty he always showed when he meant what he said.

Still careful, you leaned in again, slowly and cautiously, meeting him halfway. And this time, he kissed you fully. A little clumsy, a little careful, but real.

The kiss deepened slowly, breath catching between the pauses. His hand slid up your back, deliberate and warm, before settling at your jaw. When he kissed you again, it wasn’t cautious anymore. It was hungry in a way that made your pulse skip.

You barely noticed the shift in position until you felt the mattress dip and his weight press more firmly against you. Sieun laid you gently onto your back, his hand bracing beside your head. His lips hovered above yours, his breath uneven.

“I want you.” He said, voice low and a little hoarse.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled over you, not heavy, but warm, like something long-awaited and real. You searched his face. His eyes didn’t waver. Even with the cut on his lip, the fading bruises, the exhaustion still clinging to him, he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see.

You nodded slowly. “I want you.” You said, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. Then you added. “I want you too.”

His shoulders eased, his eyes darkened, and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath this entire time. Sieun’s gaze dropped to your mouth, and he kissed you again. Your fingers found his hair. He sighed into the kiss, letting it pull him closer until there was hardly any space between you.

His hand slid under the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your skin. You gasped softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth. The tenderness from earlier melted into something needier, more urgent.

You kissed along his jaw, avoiding the worst of his injuries. He let out a low breath, almost a groan, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” You whispered.

“You won’t.” He breathed. “I’ll tell you. Just—don’t stop.”

You could hear the slight catch in his breathing every time your fingers moved through his hair. His sighs were low and soft, almost like they slipped out without permission, like the sensation was too much to hold in.

His hand traced along your ribs with reverence, fingertips trembling slightly when he glazed your naked breast. You arched into him as his lips traveled to the corner of your jaw, then lower, grazing your neck with barely-there kisses that made your skin feel too tight, too hot.

His fingers brushed the edge of your shirt again, slower this time, deliberate. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms in silent permission. Sieun helped you out of it carefully, as if the fabric itself were something delicate. Next came your underwear.

You felt his gaze, but it wasn’t heavy. It was tender. His breath caught, but he didn’t rush. His hands stayed warm and steady, resting lightly on your waist.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, voice barely audible.

In response, your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, letting you lift it over his head and toss it aside. His skin was warm under your touch, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now. Faint bruises still lingered along his ribs.

Sieun sat back slightly, his gaze holding yours. He didn’t speak, but the question was clear in his eyes. Is this still okay?

You met his look and nodded once, slow and certain. That was all he needed.

Without a word, Sieun shifted just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants. He slid them down and off in one smooth motion, dropping them carelessly to the floor.

He leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time. His mouth moved gently against yours, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed softly past your lips. Your hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He tensed for a moment, caught between surprise and the rush of sensation, but then exhaled, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into your touch. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking his length as he moaned into your mouth. You pumped him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, making him shuttered.

In return, he lowered his hand from your waist, down to your crotch, the motion a little clumsy. You heard him cursed when his fingers came in contact with your heat. He found what made you breathe deeper, what made your fingers tighten, and his hesitation began to fade. Each reaction from you seemed to guide him, steadying his hands and calming his nerves. His finger pressed onto your clit, placing careful pressure before working it in a circle. His movements grew more sure, but never careless. Every shift of his hand, every kiss against your neck... He wasn’t rushing.

He slipped a finger inside and you gasped in his mouth, tightening your grip on him. He started pumping slowly, curling his fingers inside you, your wetness helping him with his movements. A whine flew from your lips as he hit the spongy spot inside you, making your entire body twitch.

“S-Sieun.” You cried when he added another finger and curled it.

Sieun pulled back from the kiss, his lips barely parted, his breath uneven. But he didn’t move far. He hovered just above you, eyes locked on your face.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it traced over every part of you. Your flushed cheeks, the parting of your lips, the soft rise and fall of your chest… He was looking at you with awe. Like he couldn’t believe he was the reason you looked like this.

He tilted his head just a little, the corners of his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile. “You feel good?” He asked, voice low and just a little teasing.

Your lips curved into the barest smile, and you gave a small nod. “Yeah.” you whispered. “I do.”

Sieun’s eyes softened. He exhaled slowly, as though that one word had undone whatever tension he still carried. His hand rose to your face, fingertips brushing your cheek, then tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let me take care of you.” He said as he removed my hand from his boxers, away from his hardened cock.

You started to protest, but when he started pumping his fingers faster, curling them inside at just the right angle, a strangled sound left your throat. Your eyes closed and your body arched in response. You tried to close your legs in reflex, but Sieun held you open for him. Your knees were pressed against his thighs, the strength of them effectively holding them open, restricting any movement.

His fingers fuck in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace with his thumb. You were soaked at this point, wetness dripping down the side of your thighs.

A slow, pulsing heat built low in your stomach, spreading through you like a wave. Your body felt flushed, every nerve lit with anticipation. From above, Sieun let out a low hum and the sound alone sent a shiver skimming down your spine.

Your fingers curled tight into the sheets, knuckles pale with tension, eyes still closed. “You’re so good to me.” You gasped, your voice airy and trembling. “Thank you… thank you,” You repeated, the words slipping out in broken whispers as the heat built inside you, rushing towards your climax.

A groan slipped from Sieun’s mouth as he quickened his pace, breath catching. The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds between you…. wet, breathless, raw — blending with your moans.

Your gaze flicked up to Sieun, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. His brow was faintly furrowed, jaw tight, as if he was carefully holding himself together. He was watching you, reading you. Every breath, every sound you made mattered. Like he didn’t want to miss a single part of you unraveling beneath him. His hand didn’t waver. He moved with quiet confidence now, like instinct had taken over.

His eyes stayed on yours, wide and unblinking, lit with a kind of quiet intensity. That look, those beautiful eyes of his, your favorite thing about him, held so much in them now. Not just focus, not just care, but something deeper. It felt like he was trying to hold you together with just his gaze, even as you were starting to fall apart beneath him.

Chorus of moans left your mouth, and you felt yourself slipping, your body tensing under the growing wave. Sieun’s gaze, locked with yours, full of warmth and something unspoken, held you there as you finally climax.

Your body shook uncontrollably, thighs tensing underneath his as intense pleasure crashed through you. Sieun’s fingers continued to fuck you throughly, only slowing when your hands went up and scratches his shoulder, your whole body twitching in overstimulation.

His name tumbled from your lips just as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His tongue pushed past your lips with a hunger that made your breath catch, the kiss messy and deep, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough.

The room felt too small for how much heat passed between you. His mouth moved from yours to your neck, your shoulder, then back again, each kiss more urgent than the last.

Sieun backed away to fully removed his underwear. His cock sprang free, pre-cum running down to his base. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the wetness evenly.

“I don’t have a condom.” He said suddenly, eyes wide in realization.

“Don’t need one,” You whispered, breath hitching as your legs pulled him in closer. “I’m on the pill.”

You saw relief flashes in his eyes for a second. Slowly, still giving you time to pull away if you changed your mind, he spread your legs further and let himself rest against your pussy. With one hand, he tapped the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You shuttered at the contact. He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushed inside, easing you into gently.

Your hands found his hair, fingers tightening as the ache of the stretch settled in. It was sharp at first, pulling a soft gasp from your throat. But slowly, steadily, the pain began to dull, warmth overtaking the sting. You were grateful he’d taken his time, that his fingers had eased you open before this. He pressed in deeper, slow and steady, until you felt completely full. There was no space left between you.

Sieun stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath uneven against your cheek. His arms trembled slightly where they held him up, muscles tense, like he was holding himself back with everything he had. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his brows pulled together. He was fighting the urge to move, afraid of pushing too far, of hurting you.

His eyes met yours, soft and searching.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice low and careful, but so full of feeling it made your chest ache.

You nodded, your fingers brushing against his cheek, grounding him. “I’m okay.” You whispered back. “Please, move.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lower lip. When he moved again, it was careful and tender. His lips found your cheek, then your jaw, then just beneath your ear, leaving soft, lingering kisses in his wake. Each one felt like a quiet promise. You felt his breath stutter, heard the soft sounds slipping from his throat. It was helpless, like he couldn’t hold them back.

You turned your face into his neck, your lips brushing his skin as you breathed out. “You feel so good.”

Sieun let out a broken moan, one hand slipping to your waist to hold you more firmly, more securely, but still with that same gentleness. The love in his touch was undeniable. It wrapped around you just as tightly as his fingers did.

The rhythm between you began to shift. It was still tender, but deeper now, more insistent. Sieun’s breath hitched as he adjusted his grip on your waist, drawing you a little closer beneath him. His movements grew more fluid, not driven by urgency, but by a need to feel you fully. To be closer. To give you everything he could.

You felt it in the way his hips moved, more certain now. In the low, quiet sounds falling from his mouth, soft and aching, almost reverent. His forehead rested against yours for a breath, his eyes fluttering shut as if the feeling overwhelmed him too. He set a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you felt euphoric

Your body moved with his naturally, like you were made for this closeness. He kissed you again, messier this time, his lips parting yours with more heat and more need. His left hand cupped one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple. Your head was spinning, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you cried out when he reached deeper, hitting a delicious spot inside of you that made you incredibly wetter.

He whispered your name once, barely audible, like it had slipped out without meaning to. Like it was a prayer he didn’t know he was saying.

When your eyes opened to meet his again, the pace didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more intense. Sieun found both of your hands and pinned them beside your head, his fingers laced with yours. Your bodies moved in sync, fast and slow all at once, dizzying yet steady, grounded in the way he held you like he couldn’t bear to let go. The upward curve of his cock continued to hit that spot inside of you and you felt the tension in your stomach growing incredibly tensed, like it was about to snap.

You hold Sieun’s hand harder. “I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, lips trembling. He cursed when you squeezed tightly around him. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, and your gasps turned to full on cries as he pounded into you more eagerly.

You moaned into the shell of his ear as the pressure blew, your whole body tensing before letting go. Sieun fucked you through it, helping you ride the wave of your toe-curling orgasm. He buried his face in your neck as his hips lost their rhythm, messily and urgently pumping into you now. His hips came to an abrupt stop as he released into you, multiple desperate whimpers leaving his mouth. You could feel the twitching of his cock as warmth filled deep inside your belly.

You untangled your hands, sliding one into his hair and the other across his back, pulling him closer as your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. Both of you were breathless, your skin damp with sweat. His face remained buried in your neck, and your legs hung loosely around his waist. You pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head. “I love you.” You whispered, quiet and shaky.

The words hung between you, delicate but powerful. For a second, Sieun didn’t move, like they were sinking into him, wrapping around whatever was left of his breathless high. Then he slowly lifted his head from your neck. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were dazed with afterglow. They looked softer than you’d ever seen them. Full of something open and unguarded. Tender.

He leaned in and kissed you. Slow this time. Not desperate or hungry like before, but sweet. “I love you too.” He said, voice low and rough around the edges, but deep with emotion.

Neither of you moved for a long time after that.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

A few months after….

You walked hand in hand with Sieun, your steps slow and tired after the long day at school. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light over everything. The weather was perfect, the kind that made you forget all your worries for a little while. Baku, Gotak, and Juntae walked beside you, their laughter echoing through the street as they teased one another. Everything felt easy and happy.

Then Sieun’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and picked up, answering with a quiet. “Hello?” At first, his expression barely changed, but then something shifted. A flicker of confusion passed through his eyes, then widened into disbelief.

When the call ended, he turned to all of you, his voice unsteady but clear. “He’s awake.”

That was all he said before grabbing your hand and running. The others followed without hesitation.

You arrived at the hospital breathless, your feet skidding to a stop outside in the courtyard. There, sitting in a wheelchair beneath the spring sun, was Suho. He wore a gray sweatshirt over his hospital clothes, pale but alive, his head tilted slightly in the breeze.

You slowly slipped your hand from Sieun’s and gave him the softest nudge forward.

He didn’t rush. He moved like the world had slowed down, like he wasn’t sure if what he saw was real. Suho suddenly turned his head and saw him.

“How’s it going?” He said, as casually as if no time had passed at all.

Sieun froze for a moment, overwhelmed. Suho’s gaze drifted past him to the group gathered behind, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who are they?”

Sieun turned slightly to glance back at all of you, then looked at you a moment longer.

“My friends.” He said. Then, quieter, more certain. “And my girlfriend.”

Suho’s lips curled into a tired smile, eyes crinkling with quiet joy. He had always wanted one thing for Sieun—to not be alone, to find his own kind of happiness. And now, standing there with all of you behind him, Sieun had found it.

“That’s good to see.” Suho said softly.

Sieun didn’t answer with words.

He just smiled.

THE END

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linalieana · 1 month ago

Note

I'm imagining about Go Kyungjun being Jealous cuz Hyunho likes (reader) and always follow her around but Kyungjun and (reader) are secretly dating

Keep your distance

Pairing: Go Kyungjun x Reader (ft. Hyunho) Genre: Drama, Romance, Secret Dating, Jealousy Length: Full-length one-shot

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It started as a secret for safety. Kyungjun had insisted... it was better that no one knew. And honestly, part of you agreed. Being Go Kyungjun’s girlfriend in public came with a target on your back. So you let him keep it in the shadows. But neither of you expected Hyunho to be a problem.

You hadn’t even thought Hyunho liked you like that. But then came the snacks, the way he started showing up early just to walk with you to class, the excuses to sit beside you during lunch. And Kyungjun? He noticed.

He always noticed.

It started subtly. Kyungjun would go quiet when Hyunho was around. His eyes would follow him with a coldness that made your skin prickle. But lately, it was getting worse.

Today, during break, Hyunho had snagged the seat beside you before you could react. He leaned close, whispering some stupid joke in your ear that made you laugh. Kyungjun watched from the other table, jaw clenched, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the tabletop.

You shot him a look across the cafeteria — one that said be cool — but he didn’t return it.

When the bell rang, Hyunho offered to carry your books.

"I’m not helpless, you know," you teased.

He grinned. "Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna help."

You rolled your eyes but let him take one of your textbooks. That was a mistake.

Because Kyungjun was waiting for you by the side stairwell.

The moment you stepped into the dim space between classes, he pulled you in roughly by the wrist.

"Ow — Kyungjun, what the hell?"

He slammed the stairwell door shut behind you. "Don’t let him touch you."

Your heart pounded. "It was a book. He was just being nice."

Kyungjun stepped in close. Too close. "You think he doesn’t want more than that? You think he’s not looking at you like he wants to steal you from me?"

You blinked. "Maybe if you didn’t keep me a secret, he wouldn’t even try."

His jaw twitched. You knew that struck a nerve. For a second, he looked away. Then he leaned in again, voice low. "If I could take you everywhere and let everyone see you’re mine, I would. You know that. But that guy? He’s crossing a line."

You stared at him. Angry, breathless, a little turned on by the way he said mine.

"So what do you wanna do? Punch him in front of the whole school? Start a fight and blow our cover?"

Kyungjun didn't answer. Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you. Rough, desperate, all teeth and frustration.

You melted into him. Just like you always did.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned. "If he touches you again, I’m ending it. I don’t care who sees."

The next day, you tried to put some distance between you and Hyunho. But he was persistent. During gym class, he ran beside you during warm-ups. During lunch, he slid into the seat beside you again. You glanced over at Kyungjun.

He didn’t sit with you today.

Your phone buzzed under the table.

Kyungjun: Meet me. Locker hall. Now.

You slipped away five minutes later, making an excuse about the bathroom. Kyungjun was already there, pacing like a caged animal.

"You ignoring me now too?"

You shut the door behind you. "What do you want me to do, Kyungjun? He’s not getting the hint."

He stalked over, grabbing your chin. "Then let me give it to him."

"You said we had to keep this secret. That was your rule."

His hand dropped to your waist, yanking you flush against him. "Maybe I changed my mind."

Your breath hitched. "You serious?"

He kissed you again. This time slower. Deeper. His hand slid under your shirt, fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "I’m done hiding. If Hyunho wants to see who you belong to, I’ll show him."

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

It wasn’t long before someone opened the locker room door and gasped.

"Shit," you whispered.

Kyungjun just smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then casually reached over and laced your fingers together.

"Good," he said. "Let everyone know."

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linalieana · 1 month ago

Note

hi babe, did u maybe write for aouad? plz??!

may i request dom!suhyeok smut x sub!reader where reader gets jealous abt him and namra and take out for revenge when the red thread scene reader choose woojin to be partner with instead of suhyeok…..then suhyeok out of jealousy and rage fuck reader dumb 🫰🏻

thank youu xixixixi <3

Title: Mine, Not His

Pairing: Dom!Lee Su-hyeok x Sub!Fem!Reader AU: Canon Divergence - During the "Red Thread Game" Word Count: ~8,200 Tone: Darkly passionate, possessive, filthy Warnings: 18+ ONLY, jealousy kink, rough sex, brat taming, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, marking, possessive behavior, dumbification, creampie, mild manipulation, swearing, canon setting altered for spice

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You never meant to actually play the game. It was a joke at first — a distraction in the hellish reality of zombie-infested Hyosan. But the second they said it: red thread of fate, you saw the way Nam-ra’s eyes flicked toward Su-hyeok.

And something inside you burned.

So you did what any normal, mildly feral, emotionally unstable girl with a crush would do — you chose Woo-jin.

He blinked in surprise when you stepped forward and tied your string to his. Everyone was giggling and whispering, but you didn’t care.

Su-hyeok stood stiffly across the room, jaw clenched, hands buried in his pockets like he was keeping himself from ripping someone apart. His eyes met yours for just a second, unreadable.

Good.

Let him stew.

That night, you snuck off to the library to sulk — because, well, maybe this wasn’t such a victory after all. Woo-jin had been nice. Too nice. Not Su-hyeok.

You were halfway through regretting your life choices when the door slammed open.

“Get up.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. Su-hyeok.

You stood slowly, eyes wide. "W-What are you—"

He stalked toward you like a predator. "You picked him."

You backed up until your knees hit the table. "It was just a game—"

“Don’t lie.” His hand slammed down beside your head. “You think I don’t see you? The way you look at me? You wanted to make me jealous.”

“I—”

“Congratulations.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours. Not soft. Not sweet. Possessive.

His hands dragged you closer, gripping your hips like he was trying to brand you. You whimpered, grabbing at his shirt, and he pulled away just enough to growl:

“Mine. You hear me?”

“Yes—“

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

He smirked, satisfied. Then he shoved you down on the table.

Clothes flew. Panting breaths. The room filled with heat.

He knelt between your legs like a man starved.

“You wanna tease me?” His fingers dragged up your thighs. “Then I’m not stopping until you cry.”

And he didn’t.

His tongue made you scream. His fingers curled cruelly. By the time he stood and undid his belt, your legs were trembling.

“Color?” he asked, eyes softer for a heartbeat.

“Green,” you gasped. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He slid inside, slow, deep, unforgiving.

You moaned like something broken.

“Yeah,” he whispered darkly. “That’s right. Cry for me. Not for Woo-jin. Not for anyone else.”

He fucked you like he was erasing every other man from existence. Like the red thread never touched anyone but you and him.

Over and over, he pushed you past the edge. Until you were shaking, whimpering, babbling his name.

“Who do you belong to?” he hissed.

“You! You, Su-hyeok—“

“That’s right. Mine.”

After, he didn’t let you move. Just pulled you into his chest, buried his face in your hair.

“I hate when you look at anyone else.”

“I wasn’t going to—I just… I wanted you to see me.”

He cupped your cheek. “I see you. Always.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed. “Then prove it again.”

He chuckled low. “Brat.”

But he was already getting hard again.

And you were already soaking.

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linalieana · 2 months ago

Text

u know it's gon' be the slutiest, messiest, sloppiest, hard core sex when the post had sum hentaí banner n the pinkiest color

12K notes · View notes

linalieana · 2 months ago

Text

getting caught

alt: caught in an intimate moment with enhypen

ot7 x female reader warnings: suggestive (mdni)

masterlist

heeseung:

heeseung is one of the members that won't get embarrassed when the two of you got caught. he is a grown man, and if he wants to have some fun with his girl, he will. you, on the other hand, are mortified.

the guys and their girls (including you) had rented out a beach house for vacation. and of course for a beach vacation, you had to buy some new swimsuits that you kept a surprise from heeseung. you felt his eyes on you the whole time you guys were playing in the water.

after playing, the guys went to play volleyball while the rest of the girls went to grab something to eat. you weren't hungry, so you were resting on one of the lounge chairs. right when you got fully comfortable and thought you were alone, you felt something pull at your swimsuit tie. you startle, smacking away heeseung's hand while he laughed.

"not cool." you grumbled before you laid back down. you could feel heeseung's eyes on you when you closed your eyes.

"you're right baby." he sat down next to you. "but neither is my smoking hot girlfriend for not giving me any attention."

"what are you waiting for?"

heeseung leaned forward at your question, finally kissing you. your hands reached up, raking through his damp hair while his roamed your exposed skin. he pulled away from your lips, moving down to your neck. his hand had just grazed the edge of your swimsuit when someone cleared their voice.

"you two lasted a lot longer than i thought." you jump at the voice, pulling away from heeseung to see jay standing there with the volleyball. you face turned as red as your swimsuit, but heeseung just smirked at his friend.

"can't blame a guy, can you?" jay rolled his eyes at heeseung.

"at least go to your room, you horndog." heeseung let out a huff before standing up. you thought he was going to go back to the guys. but to your shock, he bent down, scooping you in his arms. your let out a yell as you were thrown over his shoulder. his hand slapped your ass as he carried you back to the house.

"we'll be down later." heeseung called out as he opened the back door. "maybe."

rest under cut

jongseong:

jay, similar to heeseung, will not be embarrassed at all. he will be annoyed at whoever decided to disturb his time with you while you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

jay was in one of the empty studios, trying to figure out a guitar rift when you showed up. he had been waiting to see you all day, so of course he all but threw his guitar before pulling you onto his lap. you straddled his lap as he kissed you like he had been waiting to all day.

"you could say hello first." you smirk as you pull away.

"hi, my pretty girl." he responded to you before kissing you again.

you were more than happy to oblige, kissing him back. his hands rest on your thighs, rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin as your kisses got more heated. he shifted you in his lap, unintentionally grinding you down onto his lap and causing a soft moan to slip past your lips.

the two of you failed to hear the door open. you only knew someone was there when you heard them gasp. you pull away from jay to see jungwon standing there, shocked at what he just walked into. you let out a shocked gasp, hiding your face in jay's shoulder while he glared at jungwon.

"leave."

you heard a small sorry before the door shut. jay wrapped his arms around you as you apologized. "i'm sorry jay. i thought i locked the door."

he would tell you it's okay, more concerned about you than him. you would recover after a few minutes before pulling away and looking at him. you could tell he wanted to continue, but was going to push it just in case you didn't. luckily for him you did, leaning in and kissing him.

"can we continue?" you ask when you pull away. he smiles, nodding his head before kissing your cheek.

"of course, pretty. let's just make sure the door's locked this time."

jaeyun:

jake will be one of the members that would get not necessarily embarrassed for him but for you. he would feel bad for not being careful enough that someone other than him saw you in a compromised position.

the two of you were watching a movie in jake's room. the movie was quickly forgotten, jake in between your open legs as his lips moved heatedly against yours. your legs were wrapped around his waist. your shirt was lifted up, exposing your stomach.

"my gorgeous girl." he mumbled against your lips before he started kissing your neck. his hands were about to push your shirt up more when jake's door opened.

"oh shit. sorry guys." you hear sunghoon's voice, but the door was shut by the time you two looked. jake pulled away from you before running out of the room and yelling at sunghoon for his lack of knocking. once he came back, he had a pout on his face.

"baby, i'm so sorry." he apologized profusely. "i thought i locked the door. i always make sure i do."

"it's okay jake."

you watch him as he triple checked the handle to make sure the door was locked before continuing his apology. "i don't know what happened. i promise it won't happen again."

"hey jake?"

"yes?" he turned to look at you. you were still laying in the same position as before. you motioned to him with your hand.

"shut up and come kiss me."

sunghoon:

sunghoon is another member who not going to be embarrassed about getting caught. he will be similar to jake and get upset if someone saw you in a compromised position that only he was allowed to see.

it was late. the two of you had just finished dinner with the rest of the guys and were laying in bed. all it took was one comment from you for you to end up on top of him, lips pressed to his. his hands were resting on your hips- tracing circles on the exposed skin.

you had just sat up, sunghoon removing your shirt and leaving you in your bra, before kissing down sunghoon's neck. you grinded down on him causing a groan to slip past his lips when all of a sudden you were on your side. you didn't see jake open the door to sunghoon's bedroom, but he did. he pulled the blanket over you before blocking you completely from jake's view.

"do you know how to fucking knock?"

you peak around to see a red faced jake standing there. "sorry man. we were going to get ice cream and wanted to see if you two wanted any."

"clearly not."

"right." jake nodded before leaving. "sorry, yn."

"don't talk to her."

sunghoon quickly got up, pushing jake out of the room before slamming (and locking) the door. you sat up, blanket falling away from you as you watch your clearly upset boyfriend.

"i'm sorry, baby." he apologized as he made his way back to bed. "i thought i locked the door."

"its okay, hoon." you smile before reaching up and unhooking your bra before throwing it at him. "you can just make it up to me the rest of the night."

seonwoo:

this poor baby is going to be so embarrassed. he's never going to be able to face his members again. the two of you really didn't mean to. you were hanging out at the dorms, and sunoo said that all of his other members were out, leaving just you two.

it started out pg. the two of you were baking because sunoo said he wanted to try out this new cookie recipe. the cookies just went into the oven, and you were cleaning up the mess. the only issue is that sunoo looked way too good while washing dishes.

"it should be illegal for someone to look this good while washing dishes." sunoo laughed at your 'complaint.' he leaned over, kissing the pout off of your lips.

"it should be illegal for you to wear that dress, but you don't see me complaining." once sunoo had dried his hands, he pulled you into a hug- letting his hands drift to your ass and squeezing.

that was how you ended up pressed up against the counter. sunoo's lips had just left yours and were trailing heated kisses down your neck. your hands drifted in his hair, pulling slightly when he sucked a mark on your neck.

"really guys? the kitchen?" the two of you jumped when you heard riki's voice. you see him looking at the two of you with an amused look. "can't even get some water in peace around here."

you smile while apologizing, not really reacting to him catching you. sunoo, on the other hand, kept his head in your neck, refusing to look at riki while mumbling how he was never going to live this down. "i blame you for this."

"me?" you laughed, pulling away from him to get the cookies when the timer went off.

"yes you! why do you always have to look so good?" he exclaimed.

"if i look so good, can we continue what we started?" you look over at sunoo after you set the cookies down. the both of you knew that he never said no to you. he grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him.

"of course we can. just in the privacy of my room."

jungwon:

jungwon is going to be very similar to sunoo in the fact that he is going to be very embarrassed. you don't even get a chance to be embarrassed due to how embarrassed jungwon is. though he does recover faster than sunoo.

his group dance practice had ended, and he was alone in the practice room working on a solo dance. you were sitting against the mirror, holding the phone steady while recording him. your boyfriend always looked good while dancing, and today was no exception.

the song had just ended, and you stood up before handing jungwon the phone. he smiled at you before kissing you softly. "thanks for filming."

"of course." you smile, standing on your toes to kiss him again. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. your arms snaked around his neck as the kiss got more heated.

he pushes you backward against the mirror before his your lips leave his. he tilts his head as you kiss down his neck. his hands squeeze your waist when you kisses a sensitive area.

"oh!" the two of you jump when you heard sunoo. his face was just as red as jungwon's as he walked over to his bag. "sorry guys. i forgot my bag."

after he grabbed the bag, he quickly ran out of the room. you stifle a laugh as your clearly embarrassed boyfriend pulled you into his arms. "are you finished? or did you want to run through the dance one more time?"

"actually, there is one more thing i want to do." he mumbled as he pulled away. you fully expected him to go back to his phone to restart the song to dance to again. instead, he turned on some random playlist before locking the door. as soon as he turn to you with a smirk, you knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"and what do you want to do?"

he motioned his head for you to come to him. "you'll have to come here and find out."

riki:

riki will try so hard to be nonchalant. he will pretend like he's not the embarrassed boy you know he is. it will last until the member leaves before he's burying his face in your neck while wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

the two of you were in the living room. the rest of the guys were scattered off doing who knows what. you were sitting in between riki's legs while the two of you played a game on the tv. you had just let out a groan when riki won at the last second. he laughed in victory as his arms tightened around you.

"another win for me."

"shut up." you grumble pushing him away from you. he tightened his arms around you. "dude, lighten your grip. i can't breathe."

"i will if you give me a kiss."

you tilt your head up, puckering your lips for him. he smiled before leaning down and kissing you. his hands drops the controller before he cups your cheeks. you smile as you pull away.

"i love you."

he smiles, pulling you into another kiss. "i love you too baby."

"what do we have here?" the two of you pull apart to see heeseung smiling at you two. "on our couch? we sit here, you know."

"how many times have we caught you and your girl on this said couch?" riki questioned with a raised eyebrow while he tried to keep his composure, but the tips of his hears turned red from embarrassment.

"touché." he held up his hands before he left the room. "use protection."

you couldn't help but laugh at the comment. riki let out a groan before hiding his face in your neck. you brush off his embarrassment, picking up the controller once again. "i want a rematch."

"no."

"no? you scared i'll win?" you question with a smirk. he lifts up his head, resting it on your shoulder. all it took was one look from him to understand what he wanted. "you want to keep going, don't you?"

"maybe." he mumbled. you let out a sigh as you pull away from him.

"come on."

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linalieana · 2 months ago

Text

Are you mine?

Warnings- Angst, Steve and Bucky are idiots.

Being in love with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes felt like living in a dream.

A dream so perfect, so utterly untouchable, that even the ghosts of the past couldn’t tarnish it. The three of you had fought wars together, bled together, and survived against impossible odds. You trusted them with your life and, more importantly, with your heart.

Steve, ever the protector, held your hand through the nightmares, his voice a quiet promise in the dark. Bucky, all sharp wit and unspoken devotion, pressed kisses into your hair when he thought you weren’t paying attention. They made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could shake the foundation of what you had.

You belonged to them, and they belonged to you.

The compound had always been your sanctuary, a place where the weight of being an assassin and an Avenger didn’t feel so heavy.

Missions were brutal, but coming home to them made it worth it. Your mornings were tangled limbs and soft murmurs, their warmth pulling you from restless sleep. Your nights were laughter and whispered confessions, hands intertwined beneath the sheets.

Everything was fine, until she arrived.

A trainee named Cassidy.

Sent to the compound for a few days of “intense training” with the Avengers. Young, eager at least, that’s what Fury had said. But from the moment she walked through the doors, it was clear training was the last thing on her mind.

You caught the way her eyes lingered on Steve's broad shoulders, the way she smiled just a little too sweetly when Bucky grunted in response to something she said. You noticed the way she conveniently positioned herself between them whenever she could, the way her touch lingered just a second too long.

It was nothing. Just admiration, maybe even hero worship. You told yourself that, again and again. Steve and Bucky were yours. They loved you.

And yet… doubt had a way of creeping in, even where trust once lived.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something unfamiliar in your own home.

Unease.

You weren’t the jealous type, you had no reason to be, not when Steve and Bucky had given you every reassurance, every reason to trust them. And you did trust them. You trusted them blindly.

But can you trust the world?

Trust didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you saw Cassidy wedged between them on the couch, laughing at something Bucky said. It didn’t stop the sting when Steve placed a comforting hand on her back, so absentmindedly, so effortlessly, like it was second nature.

Like it was something he used to do for you.

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket. That was your spot. That had always been your spot. Between them. Their arms around you. Their warmth surrounding you.

Now?

Now Cassidy sat there, twirling a lock of her hair, giggling, her body angled towards them like she belonged. And Steve and Bucky?

They didn’t even notice you standing there.

“You’re imagining things, Y/n.” Natasha leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee as she watched you pick at your food. She didn’t say it dismissively, but there was caution in her voice. Careful, Y/n. Don’t spiral.

“I’m not...” Your voice was hollow. You pushed your plate away and exhaled shakily. “She’s always there, Nat. Always with them. Always touching them...” You swallowed hard, shame burning in your throat. “I feel like… like I don’t exist anymore.”

Natasha sighed, setting her cup down. “Come on. You know Steve and Bucky. They’d never…”

“I know they wouldn’t.” Your fingers curled into fists. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Natasha studied you, eyes softer now. “Talk to them, then.”

You nodded. You would. Of course, you would.

But deep down, you were terrified they wouldn’t see it, because they never seemed to see you anymore, ever since Cassidy came.

At first, it was small things.

A conversation cut short because Cassidy had a question. A training session where she suddenly needed Bucky to correct her stance, his hands on her wrists, her waist. A mission debrief where she sat beside Steve, too close, her voice too soft.

Then the canceled plans started.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but we promised we’d show Cassidy the training simulations today.”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I swear.”

“We’ll take you out tomorrow, okay?”

Tomorrow never came.

And suddenly, your nights felt emptier. You’d wake up reaching for them, only to find cold sheets where they should have been. You weren’t sure what hurt more.

The loneliness or the fact that they didn’t even realize you were lonely.

They were still yours, weren’t they?

Then why did it feel like you were losing them?

It had been days, days since you had a proper conversation with either of them. Days since they held you like they used to. The only time you got them was at night, in bed.

And yet, there she was again, always there, standing too close to Steve as he poured coffee in the kitchen. Bucky leaned against the counter, smirking at something she said, arms crossed over his chest.

“God, Steve, I still don’t know how you carry that shield around all day.” Cassidy reached out, brushing her fingers over his bicep. “Guess it helps that you’re, like, all muscle.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“What about you, Bucky?” She turned to him, eyes bright. “I mean, that metal arm has to be heavy, right? Can I?”

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s lighter than it looks.” Bucky smirked, flexing his vibranium fingers.

Sweetheart.

Your stomach dropped, that was your name. He called you that. Not her.

Your blood ran cold as Cassidy laughed, playfully nudging Bucky’s arm. Steve smiled, amused. Not once did they notice you standing there. Not once did they feel the air shift, the way your entire world was starting to crumble.

That night, you laid in bed alone. Again.

Because, Steve and Bucky had been in the common room with Cassidy, and you couldn’t take it anymore. So you had left.

You curled into yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sob from escaping.

They were just being nice. Right?

They didn’t see what you saw. Didn’t feel what you felt. Didn’t see how much it was killing you. Right?

And you were too afraid to ask the question burning inside you, “What if they don’t miss me like I miss them?”

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting all alone in the common room.

The compound was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You sat curled up on the couch in the dark, staring at nothing, arms wrapped around yourself as if that could hold you together. The weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, pressing down, suffocating.

You had spent the entire day alone. Again.

They hadn’t noticed. Again.

The cushion beside you dipped, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Natasha.

“You’re doing that thing again…” she murmured.

You blinked. “What thing?”

“Shutting down.”

You inhaled sharply, dropping your gaze to your lap.

Natasha sighed, shifting to face you. “Sweets, talk to me.”

Natasha always called you that name, and her reason was you were the only sweet person in her life.

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” She reached out, squeezing your knee. “I see you, you know. The way you’re fading. The way you barely eat. The way you don’t sleep until you’re too exhausted to fight it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your pants.

“They love you, Sweets.” Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm. “This… whatever this is, it’s temporary. They’ll see what’s happening.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, they won’t…” Your throat burned as you whispered, “They don’t see me anymore, Nat.”

Silence.

Natasha shifted closer, resting her forearm on the back of the couch. “We survived worse, you and me. Remember?”

You knew where she was leading the conversation, but you didn’t care.

“I wish I could remember.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Natasha frowned. “Remember what?”

You exhaled shakily, gaze unfocused. “How they trained us. How they made us feel nothing.”

Natasha tensed. “Don’t do that,” she warned. “Don’t go there.”

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. “Why not? It would be easier.” Your voice cracked. “I wouldn’t have to feel like this. Wouldn’t have to wake up reaching for them only to remember I don’t exist to them anymore.”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your knee. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your smile was hollow. “They canceled our date today, Nat. Again. I was supposed to spend the evening with them. Instead, I spent it watching Cassidy laugh at Bucky’s jokes and touch Steve’s arm and…” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper. “And they let her.”

Natasha’s expression darkened, but she said nothing.

You turned your gaze back to the floor. “I just… I don’t want to feel this anymore.”

She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “You’re not in the Red Room anymore, Sweets. You have them. You have me.”

You nodded. But the ache in your chest remained, because deep down, you weren’t sure if you still had them at all.

The bed felt massive. You lay curled up on one side, facing away from the door, the covers pulled tightly around you. The scent of Steve and Bucky still lingered on the sheets, but it brought no comfort.

Then the mattress dipped.

First on one side, then the other. Warm bodies slid in beside you, their familiar presence surrounding you.

“Doll?” Steve’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Bucky shifted behind you, his arm resting loosely around your waist. “We’re sorry about earlier, sweetheart.”

Your throat burned.

“We’ll make it up to you,” Steve added quickly. “We’ve got a whole day planned for you tomorrow. Just the three of us. No interruptions, promise.”

Tomorrow.

You closed your eyes.

They had said that last time.

And the time before that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing yourself to stay silent.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, talk to us, Doll. We know you’re mad.”

Mad.

Was that what they thought this was? Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because what was the point? Tomorrow would come, and it would be the same.

Cassidy would be there.

Steve and Bucky wouldn’t notice.

And you? You would be alone again. A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept your eyes closed. If you stayed quiet, maybe they wouldn’t hear how badly you were breaking.

Morning passed in a blur.

You moved through training sessions on autopilot, barely speaking, barely feeling. Natasha watched you carefully, her sharp gaze catching every falter, every moment you hesitated before leaving the gym. You knew she wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure if you had it in you to listen.

So you just kept going.

Kept pretending.

Kept waiting for Steve and Bucky to remember.

And then they did. Or so you thought.

“Doll, come on! Movie night’s all set up!”

Bucky’s voice rang through the hall as you made your way toward the common room, a flicker of hope stirring in your chest.

They remembered. They finally remembered.

For the first time in days, your heart didn’t feel so heavy. You ran your fingers through your hair, exhaling softly as you reached the doorway, ready to sink into the warmth of your boys.

And then you saw her.

Cassidy.

Sitting between them.

Again.

Your body locked up, breath catching in your throat. She was curled up comfortably, her legs tucked beneath her as she laughed at something Bucky whispered in her ear. Steve sat relaxed beside her, arm draped over the back of the couch, so damn close, so damn easy, like she belonged there.

Like she belonged with them.

You forced yourself to speak, though your voice barely carried. “What is she doing here?”

Steve turned, smiling at you. That easy, oblivious smile that used to make your heart race.

Now?

It made you feel sick.

“She didn’t know it was just meant to be us,” he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we didn’t wanna be rude, so…”

You didn’t hear the rest, your ears were ringing.

They didn’t want to be rude to her. You stared at them. At her. And then you swallowed down every emotion clawing its way up your throat. “Enjoy the movie.”

That was all you said before turning on your heel and walking away.

They didn’t call after you.

Didn’t chase you.

Didn’t even notice the way your hands were trembling as you pushed open the door.

The tears came before you even reached the elevator, but you didn’t stop walking, didn’t wipe them away, didn’t care if anyone saw.

Not that they would. No one ever did.

You should have gone to your room. You should have buried yourself under the covers and let the ache consume you in silence.

But the walls were closing in too fast.

So instead, you climbed, up the emergency stairwell, up to the roof, where the air was sharp and cold, where the wind bit at your damp cheeks, where no one could see you break.

Your hands gripped the ledge as you sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

They had remembered and it still hadn’t mattered.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, bitter and broken. You should have known, you should have known it would end up like this.

You closed your eyes, head tilting back as the city lights blurred beneath the weight of your tears.

You had never felt more alone.

By the time you came down from the roof, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest remained, suffocating and unrelenting.

You stepped into the hallway, head down, steps quick, just wanting to reach your room, just wanting to breathe without feeling like you were drowning.

But the moment you turned the corner, you froze.

Steve.

Bucky.

And her.

They were standing there, talking, laughing.

Cassidy’s hand was on Bucky’s arm, her body tilted toward him in that way she always did, like she was drawn to him. Steve stood beside them, relaxed, like the world wasn’t crumbling around you.

Like they hadn’t just broken your heart a little more.

Their laughter died down when they saw you.

You knew they noticed your red, swollen eyes. Knew they saw the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fists clenched at your sides.

But they didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

Didn’t ask where the hell you had gone.

No, Steve just frowned slightly, like he was trying to piece something together. Like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

You didn’t give him the chance, you walked past them without a word, without a glance.

Without acknowledging them at all.

And still, still they didn’t stop you.

The compound doors slammed shut behind you as you ran, your feet pounded against the pavement, muscles burning, lungs heaving, but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down, didn’t care where you were going, as long as it was away.

Away from the suffocating silence, away from them, away from her.

You pushed yourself harder, faster, as if you could outrun the pain clawing at your chest, the unbearable ache of being unseen by the two people who were supposed to know you best.

They had always seen you, hadn’t they? Then why did it feel like you were fading? Why did it feel like you were already gone?

You were so lost in your own head, so consumed by the roaring in your ears, that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until a firm hand grabbed your arm, yanking you to a stop.

“Enough.”

Natasha.

You blinked at her, breathing hard, vision blurring. But she didn’t let go. Didn’t loosen her grip. She just stared at you, her green eyes filled with something sharp, something dangerous.

Something like determination.

“I let this go on for too long,” she muttered. “That’s on me.”

You swallowed hard, chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths. “Nat…”

“No.” Her voice was steel. “You’re not doing this. You’re not running until your body gives out just because they’re too damn blind to see what’s happening.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do...”

She sighed, her hand loosening slightly but not letting go. “Then let me do something.”

Your breath hitched, but you believed in her.

Natasha had always been your anchor, your constant. You had survived hell together. She knew you better than anyone, sometimes even better than Steve and Bucky.

So when she said those words, when she looked at you like that, like she was done watching you suffer, something inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, “Okay.”

You hadn’t spoken much since that night, since the roof. Since Natasha found you and promised to do something.

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but you hadn’t expected him.

You sat on the rooftop again, legs pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees. The city stretched out before you, endless and glowing, but all you saw was the emptiness.

The way you had been fading, the way they had let you, the way it still hurt.

You exhaled shakily, trying to push it all down, trying to keep yourself from breaking again.

“Bub.”

Your breath caught, your heart stopped, that voice.

Rough. Low. Familiar.

A voice that belonged to only one person.

You turned slowly, the cold air biting at your tear-streaked face and there he was.

Logan.

Your brother.

Standing there, broad and tense, his sharp eyes scanning you with a fury you hadn’t seen in a long time, his jaw clenched.

SNIKT.

The sound of his claws unsheathing was sharp, deadly, cutting through the silence like a blade to the heart.

His eyes darkened, fists trembling, rage radiating from his very being.

“Who?”

It was just one word, just one syllable, but it carried the weight of a storm. You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze.

Logan stepped closer, his boots heavy against the rooftop, his presence overwhelming.

“Who did this to you, Bub?” His voice was lower now, dangerous. “Tell me. I’ll gut ‘em.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Logan...”

“Look at me.”

You did and the moment his eyes met yours, whatever restraint he had left snapped.

“Those sons of bitches!” he snarled, pacing now, breathing ragged. His claws flexed, his shoulders heaved, pure, unfiltered rage pouring from him. “You’re telling me those two idiots, our idiots did this? Made you feel like this?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t have to, because your silence was enough.

Logan let out a rough, guttural growl, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles went white despite the metal already tearing through his skin.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, you won’t.” Natasha’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering.

You turned just in time to see her step onto the rooftop, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Why the hell not?” Logan snapped. “They hurt her.”

“I know,” Natasha said evenly. “That’s why she’s leaving.”

Your breath hitched, “What?”

Natasha walked toward you, gaze softening as she reached out and brushed her knuckles against your cheek. “Pack a bag, Sweets. You’re going with Logan.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re actually letting me take her?”

“She needs to get away from here,” Natasha murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “From them.”

You stared at her, then at Logan, your throat tightening so painfully you thought it might close entirely.

“Tasha…”

“No arguments,” she said softly but firmly. “You’re not okay. And I won’t stand here and watch you disappear.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

You felt Logan’s heavy hand settle on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you.

“C’mon, Bub,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to leave.

But because leaving meant giving up. Leaving meant accepting that they had chosen her, that they had chosen everyone but you.

But maybe... maybe they had already made that choice a long time ago.

You inhaled sharply and nodded.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

Part 2

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