#SHE IS SO SMART SHE ENDS UP STUPID AGAIN

[shallowseeker]

#rowena is so smart she ends up stupid again and i love her so fucking much via @clairenovaking

i cant stop thinkign about dean and rowena's stupid fucking disguises in season 11. rowena literally has a spell for immortality and apparently her go-to disguise is a spirit halloween wig. also sam istn wearing a disguise in this scene so i can almost guarantee that he told dean that rowena was wearing a wig and dean was like oh? disguises? costume time??? the worst part is she didtn immediately recognize him. how are they still alive. stupid. youre boht so fucking stupid /affectionate

[milo-is-rambling]

I feel like a huge idiot all the time like it’s great and is awful and there’s a layer of smart in me that I can’t seem to actually get to it just simmers there and occasionally a smart thought bubble floats to my mouth or brain and then soon enough it’s all bullshit again

[suuuupernovaaa]

what if

summary: joel lives and is HAPPY damnit

warnings: just watched ep2 (&3)and im so unbelievably sad and mad so im making a happy ending to cope - smut, 18+, FMC in her 30s, dirty joel, a hot gf who GETS THERE IN TIME

MASTERLIST

Hand on the doorknob, Ellie looks back to you, and you shake your head. Not yet, you want to tell her. Just listen. Just be quiet and assess what’s happening in the room.

You hear a shout inside, and you know it’s him. You know his voice as well as you know your own.

There’s multiple other voices, male and female, impossible to say how many are in there. Joel shouts again, and your body tenses up, your stomach churning.

While she turns the door knob, you press your back against the door, out of sight.

It’s a mess of action once she opens the door. Her gun fires, but it takes only moments before two men are on her, pinning her to the floor, though she does get a good swipe with her knife at one before she goes down.

You peer around the corner, just for a whisper, to take in the scene. Joel, with a bloody knee. A girl before him, hair braided, holding a golf club.

Two men holding Ellie down. At least two other women in the room, and Dina, on the floor. You don’t know from the doorway if she’s breathing or not.

They don’t know you’re there. They’re too stupid to have checked. So, you enter.

You fire a shot, straight through the neck of one of the men holding Ellie down, and the other falls away.

She’s up then, and fast, her gun back in her hand, or maybe it’s someone else’s gun. There’s screaming, so much screaming, but you can’t hear it. You can’t hear anything besides Joel yelling your names. His woman. His daughter.

Ellie’s shot two more, they’re on the floor, both men.

Two women in the room - one bald and one with curly hair - back away, their arms up, their weapons on the floor, Ellie aimed at them.

That leaves the golfer. You turn to her, weapon raised, and she steps closer to Joel.

“Not another fucking step,” you whisper, finger on the trigger. “I will blow your head off.”

She has the nerve to look angry instead of scared, but she’s smart enough to drop the golf club. You kick it away, never taking your eyes off her.

“Who are you? What the fuck are you doing?”

Her lips are pursed, her eyes red with tears and rage. She looks so normal, someone you wouldn’t recognize or remember.

“Joel?” you ask.

“I’m okay. I… killed her dad.”

“Salt Lake?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You fire. One bullet, to her heart. She drops down, and you step over her to Joel.

TWO MONTHS LATER

The ground is thawed out enough for burials to take place now. They’re burying dozens of dead. The wall is secured again, but people stare at it warily now.

They’ve seen it come down. They wonder if it will happen again.

You wake up in the middle of the night, when the moon is still high, with a scream in your throat and a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Baby, baby,” Joel is whispering next to you. You sit up, heart pounding. Joel reaches to his side of the bed for the water he keeps on his night stand, and hands it to you. You take a long drink, blinking the nightmare away.

“I’m here. I’m alive,” he reminds you.

The what if disturbs you sometimes. What if you and Ellie had been 5 minutes later. What if you had not come at all. What if, what if, what if Joel was dead.

He takes the empty water glass from your hands, and you’re on him when he turns back to you, kissing him with all the desperation you feel whenever you think of those what if’s.

What if the best thing you’d ever had was taken from you? What if Ellie’s dad had died before they could reconcile? What if, what if, what if.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m okay,” Joel mutters against your lips, and you’re pushing him down onto his back, climbing on top of him.

“I need to feel you, Joel,” you say desperately. “I need to feel that you’re here.”

His hands run up your back, under your tank top, his calloused hands on your hot skin, and you grind into him, making him moan.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” he says, and you reach down for him. He’s hard, always so hard for you, and you can feel you’re dripping wet, desperate to be filled by him.

It takes no time to remove your clothes, and you run your wet cunt up and down his hard length.

“God, Joel,” you moan, kissing his neck as he squeezes your ass.

“I’m here, baby,” he breathes, and slides into you.

It feels so full, so real, so fucking good. You place your hands on his chest, and look down at him as you begin to move, up and down. He never closes his eyes, always stares at you, always watches you when you ride him like this.

His fingers find your clit, moving over it expertly, and you cry out.

“Take what you need, baby,” he says, his voice dripping with need. “Take whatever you need.”

You just need him, to be sure he’s real and here with you. To feel him pulsing inside you, to bring you coffee in the morning, to be grumpy with you when he’s sore or tired. You just need Joel.

He brings you to an orgasm that makes you see stars, and finds his own release just seconds after, and you collapse on his chest.

He holds you then, tracing patterns on your bare back, both of you breathing so heavily with your eyes closed.

The what ifs always disappear in these moments when you are so connected to Joel. He’s here. He’s real. He’s not leaving you.

You won’t let anyone take him.

[heedeungism]

𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

•°. *࿐ PAIRING ― riki nishimura x fem!reader •°. *࿐ SYNOPSIS ― in which riki is smitten with you and your sharp tongue. •°. *࿐ GENRE ― one-shot, ????-to-lovers, fake dating, angst, fluff, crack, rich kid au, highschool lacrosse au •°. *࿐ WORD COUNT ― 22k •°. *࿐ CONTENT WARNING(S) ― violence(one fight) and threats of it, lots of tension, mc is a horndog what's new, i meant to make this slow like the first part but im a weak woman, weed, mc is her own worst enemy, mc is stupid before she is smart <3, attempted unwanted touching, riki is the jealous type but in a green flag way, don’t ask where the teachers are, riki has bigger hands than mc, kissing(many a time), once i got the angst out of the way it turned into crack js •°. *࿐ EXTRA NOTES ― thank you all for being so kind and giving me such helpful feedback and love! shoutout to my hg @1ntaks for once again holding my hand and basically beta reading this for me, you're the best queen. •°. *࿐ SOUNDTRACK ― busy woman by sabrina carpenter, don’t smile by sabrina carpenter, big girls don’t cry by fergie, better than me by doja cat, diet pepsi by addison rae, what a girl wants by christina aguilera, positions by ariana grande, he could be the one by hannah montana, bmf by sza

part one.

AT THE BEGINNING OF FEBRUARY you realized how easy it was to get over Eunseok at the same moment that it sinks in that you can’t get over Riki.

Maybe it's the fact that he’s still friendly despite the ‘breakup’, or that he still makes sweet comments that feel too genuine to be taken as flirting anymore. He hasn’t changed much of his behavior at all since the end of January, actually.

The news of the short-lived relationship spread around school. Though it was clear that you both were still friends, most of the rumors were dispelled. However, some were still infuriatingly present.

Now, you’re not the type of person who gives a shit about what other people think of you—especially not a bunch of pubescent teenagers with so little going on in their own lives that they find entertainment in yours. But your patience is wearing thin. If you hear another freshman whisper about you not being over your cheating ex, you are going to go insane. (Despite your reputation, you are above throwing hands with 14 year-olds.)

“So you want something like this, right?” Julie taps on her phone screen from across from you, showing the nail inspiration photo you had sent her just last week. When you only nod, she tilts her head with a curious raise of her brows, “We can do something different, hon’.”

Quickly, you shake your head and straighten your posture in the chair across from her, “No, sorry. I just—I’m just thinking about shit. I still want a set like that.” You force a soft laugh, and she nods with a soft ‘okay’.

“So? Anything new?” She asks with a pretty smile as she plugs in her nail drill and turns on the dust collector.

You lay your hands onto the rest between the two of you, humming and then sighing, “I’m still single.”

Julie begins working at removing her work from three weeks ago with the drill, though the pink mask keeping her from inhaling the dust doesn’t hide her face of baffled confusion, “I thought you were dating that lacrosse guy, though.”

The sound of the drill and fan are like white noise to the both of you as you sigh and drop your head forward, “Didn’t work out.”

Julie gasps softly, clearly upset for you, “What’d he do?”

While you love that her first instinct was to ask what he did and not what you did, the latter is more fitting for the situation. “He was too perfect and I got scared?” You admit softly with a guilty shrug.

Julie pauses in her work and deadpans at you, “Ho.”

“I know!” You whine softly as she resumes, using your free hand to grab the chilled can of Dr Pepper she’d grabbed for you before your appointment started, sipping from the pink straw before you continue to whine, “I fucked up.”

“I never got to see a photo last time, either.” Julie recalls as she progresses to removing the hard-gel off your other hand, “You hadn’t picked anyone for your little plan, yet.”

Julie knowing about your genius plan to ruin Eunseok and Nayeon’s day, everyday, with your tall, hot, and sweet ‘boyfriend’ was inevitable. She had dropped the traitorous bitch as a client the moment you and Belle told her about it, equally as disgusted by Nayeon as the both of you. Not to mention, Belle always yapped her pretty head off during her appointments, so as previously stated, it was inevitable.

“You’re gonna hate me,” You say, grabbing your phone with your now dusty and bare fingers to quickly tap to a photo of Riki that Jake had sent you. He’s got his helmet tucked under his arm and seemed to be captured in a heated argument with another boy on the team. The first thing you noticed was his hands, though.

When she pauses to look at your screen, she looks at you again and sighs like a disappointed mother, shaking her head and turning the drill back on. You whine, “Don’t sigh at me, I’m in mourning.”

“I thought you said you weren’t worried about catching feelings.” She reminds you, and you roll your eyes.

“Bitch, look at him.” You sass, picking up your phone to show the still-lit screen before placing it facedown in your lap again, “and he was just so—sweet. And he liked when I was mean to him.”

“As he should.”

“—and his smile made me want to stick my head in an oven Sylvia Plath style.” You say with a soft pout on your lips, “It was so much so suddenly, and I freaked out.”

Julie turns off the drill and grabs the brush to clean off the dust from your hands as she nods slightly to what you’re saying, “And Eunseok was so recent.”

“—And Eunseok was so recent!” You repeat in vehement agreement, groaning up at the ceiling as you slump slightly, “Why do boys ruin everything?”

You spend the next few hours of your nail appointment ranting about everything. Riki, your ex, your ex best friend, your dad (who had texted you a long message after you left him that you promptly responded to with a ‘that doesn’t look like an apology so im not reading that’).

mommy dearest 🩷: can you pick up some groceries for me? just a few things

The text from your mom as you swipe your card on Julie’s reader is paired with a chime you recognize as your bank app. Your new nails tap on your screen as you open the notification, grinning at the sight of a hefty transfer of funds into your account. 

The small list your mother sends doesn’t come close to costing the amount she sent you to pay for it, so you decide to stop at Sephora while you’re out too.

You choose the highest percentage to tip and sign her phone screen with your knuckle before bidding her a happy farewell and exiting the salon. The drive to the strip center is barely ten minutes long, your BMW filled with Christina Aguilera and the trip slightly delayed by your admiration of your new nails at every red light. 

When you get into the Sephora, which you decided to visit first since your mom’s list included produce, you b-line to the skincare section. 

You’re debating between oil cleansers when you’re tapped on the shoulder. 

The woman before you looks around your mother’s age, a bit shorter than you but with a beautiful smile on her face. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you Y/n?”

You blink, caught off guard, but nod.

Her grin widens. “I’m Riki’s mom!”

Your stomach drops. Every instinct screams at you to panic, but instead, you paint a pretty smile on your face, the kind your mother taught you to perfect at charity galas. “Oh my god, hi!”

Before you can react, she pulls you into a hug, warm and tight, smelling faintly of lavender and vanilla. You reciprocate, though your arms are stiff and hesitant.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she gushes, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. Her eyes, as sharp and bright as Riki’s, scan you with something between approval and curiosity. “You’re just as lovely as he said.”

“Thank you,” you manage, your voice light despite the whirlwind in your chest at the sudden and  information that Riki talks about you at home. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I can’t believe I ran into you like this!” she says, her excitement bubbling over. “You’re like a doll, honey. The photos he’s shown me don’t do you justice.”

Your brain short-circuits at the word photos. Plural.

“Oh?” you manage, keeping your smile intact even as your heart feels like it’s trying to escape the confines of your chest.

“Of course! He’s always talking about you,” she continues, as if she didn’t just drop a bomb on you in the middle of Sephora. “He showed me the cutest one of you two at the bowling alley—said it was his favorite night in a long time.”

Your breath catches, but you quickly cover it with a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of him.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She beams like she’s talking about a national treasure instead of her son. “He’s always been so shy when it comes to girls, but with you, it’s different. I can tell you mean a lot to him.”

The words land like a stone in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hint at something or if she’s just being a proud mom, but either way, you suddenly feel very out of your depth.

“That’s nice to hear,” you say lightly, though your throat feels tight. “He’s a great guy.”

She places a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm. “You’re good for him, you know. He’s happier these days, more confident.”

Your mind flashes to Riki’s easy smiles, the way he leans into you during conversations, the soft look in his eyes when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You swallow hard.

“Thank you, Mrs. Nishimura,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel . “That really means a lot.”

Her smile softens, and she gives your arm a little squeeze. “Oh, call me Rin, honey. And if you ever want to come over for dinner, just let me know. I’d love to have you.”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” you say with a polite smile, already running on autopilot. “I’ll have to check with Riki, but I’m sure he’d love that too.”

“Oh, good! I’ll talk to him about it tonight,” Rin says brightly, her excitement only adding to the internal chaos brewing in your chest. “You two are so sweet together—I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you were this gorgeous in person.”

You blink, momentarily stunned, and force out a soft laugh. “That’s really kind of you to say.”

“I mean it.” She gives you an approving once-over before leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, he’s usually so tight-lipped about his personal life. I had to drag it out of him that you two were dating in the first place.”

The air leaves your lungs like you’ve been punched. He hadn’t told her.

“He—uh—didn’t mention that we’re…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

“Together?” she finishes for you with a knowing smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t embarrass him too much about it. I just want him to be happy, and it’s so obvious you make him happy.”

You feel your face flush, your carefully constructed composure threatening to crack. But instead of correcting her, you nod, your smile tighter now. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

She reaches out and pats your arm warmly. “It was so nice meeting you, sweetheart. I’ll let you get back to your shopping. Tell Riki I said hi, okay?”

“I will,” you promise, your voice light despite the storm in your head.

As soon as she disappears down another aisle, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Reaching for the oil cleansers again, you try to steady yourself, replaying her words over and over.

He didn’t tell her.

A part of you is…warm with the information. The other part wants to puke your guts out. 

You stare blankly at the oil cleansers in front of you, your grip tightening around the bottle in your hand. The woman’s words replay in your mind like a broken record, each one sharper than the last.

“He’s happier these days, more confident.”

“It’s so obvious you make him happy.”

“He didn’t tell me you were this gorgeous in person.”

Your chest tightens, a mix of guilt and something softer—but no less overwhelming—clawing its way up your throat. The whole point of fake dating was to not make things messy. Yet here you are, feeling like a lead character in a rom-com whose life is falling apart. Right now would be an amazing time for Matthew McConaughey to come out and sweep you off your feet. 

(You realize with borderline humiliating speed that you would much prefer if Riki swept you off your feet. Seriously, there must be something wrong with you.)

The bottle trembles slightly in your hand, and you force yourself to set it back on the shelf with a shaky exhale. You’re not the kind of girl who lets this sort of thing get to her. You’re confident, decisive, in control. Except when it comes to him.

The thought makes you pause, your fingers brushing absently over your nails as the memory of his smile creeps in—the one he reserved just for you, warm and easy and dangerous.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, grabbing the Sulwhasoo cleanser you were debating spending so much on and beginning to mindlessly fill the black Sephora tote as you walk through the aisles. Real therapy has nothing on retail therapy considering you know what your problems are and how to fix them. Paying someone to tell you those things seems counterproductive when you can make yourself feel better by treating yourself.

By all accounts, it’s been a good day for you. Getting out of the school parking lot was exceptionally easy despite the traffic you encounter more often than not. You got your nails done and love how they turned out. You’re currently splurging at Sephora. And now you have reason to believe Riki doesn’t secretly hate you for breaking his heart.

riki 🙈: just got out of practice

riki 🙈: are you coming to the game tomorrow?

You look at your phone as you tap your card on the reader and accept the large black and white striped bag from the girl at the counter.  Thanking her with a smile before beginning to make your way out to your car again. When you settle into the driver’s seat, the heat turns on as you place the bag into the passenger seat.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, nails tapping against your case as your phone automatically hooks up to the bluetooth, ‘After Hours’ by The Weeknd beginning to play. “Oh, shut up.” You sigh as you pause the music and finally muster up the right response.

pretty girl 🪩: depends on how nice you are to me tomorrow

riki 🙈: i’ll bring you a gift rn

pretty girl 🪩: im not home

As soon as the text is marked as Read, your screen is replaced by his caller ID, a photo of him at age ten in a Michael Jackson costume lighting up your screen. You can’t help but chuckle before pressing the green button, reaching to turn the volume up as you ask with a playfully suspicious tone, “Can I help you?”

“Mhm, where are you?” His deep voice and hum makes you bite your fist.

You begin pulling out of the parking lot to make it across the street to the grocery store, “Getting groceries, why?”

“I wanna see you.” 

Lord have mercy—

“You sure you don’t just miss Gus?“ You hesitate to mention the revelations made by his very kind mother in Sephora, but decide to hold off.

“Oh, I do miss Gus, but I miss his mom more.”

Oh, you hate the soft laughter that leaves your mouth the moment you hear it, “I won’t be long at the store, it’s just a few things.”

There’s a shuffle on the other side, then he says, “What store?”

“Riki, it’s literally like four things.” You laugh at his shameless eagerness, “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

He chuckles softly before humming again, “Okay, bye pretty.”

“Bye.” A beat passes and ‘What a Girl Wants’ by Christina Aguilera blares through the speakers so loud you jump, “Jesus Christ.”

By the time you pull into the grocery store parking lot, you’ve replayed his voice in your head at least five times. I wanna see you. It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it—soft, easy, like he wasn’t asking for anything out of the ordinary. Like it was natural for him to want to be around you, and for you to want the same. You’re...friends. 

You curse the thought away as you grab your keys and step into the cold evening air, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. You don’t need to be thinking about Riki Nishimura and his stupid, perfect face and voice the whole time.

The grocery run is quick—milk, eggs, a few vegetables, and a bag of Gus’s favorite treats because you can’t resist—and you’re back in your car in record time. You text Riki that you're on the way home and find yourself smiling when he loves the message. It drops a second later when you realize what you’re doing and curse again, tossing your phone into the cup holder like it’s on fire and covering your face to self-reflect.

When you pull into the driveway of your home, it isn’t hard to spot Riki’s black Jeep parked at the curb. What is hard is hiding the grin that forms on your lips as you park your car and get out to grab the groceries in your trunk. The lacrosse player is already exiting his own vehicle and jogging over to help you.

“You didn’t have to come,” you say as he reaches for the bag of vegetables in your hands, but there’s no bite to your words.

“You said you’d text me when you were home,” he replies, his voice light and teasing as he takes the other bags with ease. “I figured I’d save you the trouble.”

You shake your head, grabbing your Sephora bag and locking your car. “So damn impatient.”

“Only when it comes to you.” His response is so casual, so effortless, it knocks the air from your lungs. You glance at him, but he’s already halfway up the path, waiting for you at the door like he hadn’t just said something that made your knees weak.

When you catch up, you unlock the door with the code and nudge it open with your foot, paising once you’re inside to shut it behind him. You kick off your shoes and pass Riki to get to the kitchen, placing your Sephora bag on one of the island’s chairs and watching him place the few grocery bags on the counter. 

“Gus~” You call out as you begin to unpack the paper bags, and there’s a soft warbled meow in response in the direction of your room. The plump tuxedo cat appears around the corner, rubbing his body against the wall with another soft cry for attention that has Riki cooing and lowering himself to the ground to oblige him.

Once you’ve got groceries put away, you watch the 6’ something lacrosse player pet your cat with gentle scratches under his chin that he leans into with slow blinks, “Are you happy?”

Your softly giggled question has Riki smiling up at you, “So happy.”

With a soft huff of amusement, you grab your Sephora bag and walk in the direction of your room, choosing not to glance behind you to see if he’s following. Just act natural, bitch.

You leave your door open as you enter your room, thanking the lord that the cleaning lady had visited while you were out and your room isn’t as dirty as you left it this morning. Walking into your bathroom to start putting away your new skincare, you ignore the sound of him entering your room. 

“You have a lot of perfume.” You hear him comment, glancing over your shoulder to see him admiring the organized collection on your open vanity.

“Yeah, I...have a problem” You say with a soft laugh of slight embarrassment at your habit of buying yourself anything pretty or relatively cutesy. “I have more in my closet.”

Riki whistles lowly, seemingly a bit impressed, “Which one’s your favorite?”

With a hum of thought, you step out of your bathroom to walk to your closet. You don’t mind the open door as you enter, reaching the island in the center working double as storage and where you keep your perfumes. Riki follows just to the doorway, leaning against it as his eyes move from you to the expanse of your walk-in closet. The floor-to-ceiling shelves in the back displaying heels and boots of different luxury brands, the pretty runner rug beneath your feet, it all screams you.

You’re plucking your favorite bottle from the display when his eyes land on the corner of something flat and white hidden behind a woven hamper. The easy smile on your face drops the moment you see him pull it out from its hiding spot, a boyish grin on his face. “You sneaky fuck.” 

He laughs at your immediate cursing, holding the white board out of your reach as you hasten towards him to take it from him, “Pros and Cons?”

“Oh my god.” You give up on taking it from him, hands moving to try and cover his eyes, “Riki!”

“It’s about me, pretty girl.” he argues playfully, still laughing while trying to dodge your hands, “C’mon, just a peek!”

“Boys aren’t allowed to peek—Riki!” You fight laughter as his arm hooks around your head, his hand covering your face as he begins to read out the words you wish you had erased when you had the chance.

“‘Nickname kinda dumb’, you think my nicknames dumb?” He asks in an offended tone, laughter seeping into his words.

“That wasn’t me, that was Jongseob—“

“Cut his hair—Why is cutting my hair a con?” He asks incredulously, finally letting you push his hand away from your face to look down at you. Your back is still half-pressed to his chest, and the moment you can look up at him your heart skips like it’s playing hopscotch in your chest.

You catch the glance his eyes take down below your nose and find yourself pulling away quickly, grabbing the whiteboard from him to haphazardly use your sleeve to wipe the marker off, ignoring his laughed ‘hey!’ and sighing in relief when you erase enough for the rest of its contents to look like random pink lines across its surface.

When you spin around with a playfully pointed finger to curse him out, your words catch in your throat at the look in his eyes. 

How a look could be both heavy and so soft, you do not know, but it's the best way you can describe Riki’s gaze.

“Wh—“ You stammer with hesitation, face heating up as his soft smile turns into a smirk of amusement, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” He questions in a light tone, almost soft. If you didn’t know better you’d think him genuine in his innocence, but the slight twitch of the corner of his lips and the way his eyes flit to yours gives it away.

“Riki.”

His name leaving your lips draws his gaze away from them, and his smirk turns into one more wry. “I left your gift in my car.” 

Your chest clenches painfully as he turns to exit your closet, your lips parting yet no words leaving them as he walks out. You follow after him, abandoning your perfume on the closest surface, “Riki, wait—“

“It’s okay—” he starts, turning just in time to stop you from crashing into him. His hands find your forearms instinctively, steadying you, but the sudden proximity freezes you both in place.

You blink up at him, startled, your breath hitching at the closeness. His fingers are warm through the fabric of your sweater, his touch gentle, like he’s afraid to hold on too tight.

“I—” You start to say something, anything, but your voice falters when you meet his gaze. There’s something there, something unspoken and unbearably soft that makes your chest ache. 

Your words catch in your throat when he gently steps back, his hands slipping away as though he’s suddenly aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. “It’s fine,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice is soft, but there’s a distance in it that wasn’t there before, and it only makes the knot in your chest tighten. “I’ll go grab it.” 

You take a step forward before you can stop yourself, “Riki, I didn’t mean—”

“Really, don’t worry about it.” His voice is light, too light, as he cuts you off with a small wave of his hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You hesitate, watching as he turns toward the hallway, his movements just a little too deliberate. His usual ease is gone, replaced by something quieter, more careful.

Your heart sinks. Is he upset with you? He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a tension in the way he carries himself that wasn’t there before.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” you blurt out, desperate to bridge the gap forming between you.

He pauses mid-step, his back still to you. For a moment, it seems like he might say something, but instead, he exhales quietly and turns just enough to glance over his shoulder.

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone softer now, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—regret? Frustration? “It’s not you. I just… I need a second. That’s all.”

His mother’s words ring in your head again, “It’s so obvious you make him happy.”

Yet, you feel like the opposite is all you can see. You ask him to be your fake boyfriend to make your ex mad, not even considering his feelings. You tell him you can’t date him despite him treating you with more respect and care than Eunseok ever did. You let him kiss you. You kissed back.

Clearly, you have royally fucked up a few times now.

Confronting him about not telling his mother felt like it would only make things worse between the two of you. Maybe, it’d be better for him to hear it from his mother instead of you.

Your stomach twists, guilt gnawing at you even though his words tell you otherwise. You nod, unsure what else to say, and he offers a faint, almost apologetic smile before disappearing down the hall.

“And then what?” Belle questions with a vehemence that startles you slightly. Eunchae, Hiyyih, and Jongseob are all listening intently from their normal spots in your room, your oldest friend of the four standing with her hands on her hips.

When you had informed the group chat you were staying home the next day, you definitely did not expect the four to show up to your house after piling into an Uber. One look at your tear-streaked face was enough for them to ask the questions that brought you to now.

You stammer slightly, “He—He came back with the gift and made up an excuse to leave.”

“You let him leave?” Belle asks incredulously, and you shrink under her gaze, “Bitch.”

“I don’t know, okay!” You say with your face in your hands, frustrated tears burning your eyes again as you groan, “It’s all so complicated.”

Jongseob raises his hand, waiting for Belle to motion for him to speak before he asks, “Do you like him? Also, is this a bad time to say I have a joint in my bag?”

Eunchae punches his arm, and your hands slide off your face, mind too preoccupied by your current dilemma to even insult the only boy in the friend group for his lack of ability to read the room as usual. Hiyyih leans forward to let the youngest reach over her to get to him, “That was a good question until you ruined it.” 

”Do you like him, though?” Eunchae asks once Jongseob’s arm is surely to bruise and his hands are up in surrender.

You look up from your hands, “I don’t know—“

“You’re pissing me off.” Belle sighs, palm moving to her forehead, and while you know she means well. “You like him.”

“I can’t.” You argue, voice shaking as you fight tears. Eunchae moves from her bean bag to sit next to you. “All that shit with Eunseok was barely a month ago—“

“Who gives a shit about Eunseok anymore?” Belle snaps, throwing her hands up in frustration, “Just because you dated that asshole for two years doesn’t mean it’ll take that long for you to move on.”

“It still feels like I’m using him.” You finally let the tears fall, and her frustration seems to dissipate. She sighs softly, kneeling in front of your sitting form at the edge of your bed.

Her hands move to cover yours, “Do you still have feelings for Eunseok?” The face you make answers her question and she adds, “Do you still think of Riki as a way to get back at him?”

“Of course not.“

“Then you aren’t using him.” She finishes. “He went into this knowing your plan, and you said he even told you it wasn’t you that was the problem.”

You shake your head, tears falling as you blink them away, “He looked upset—“

“Then that’s his problem.” She argues again, “It’s his job to communicate how he feels if he likes you.”

“He does communicate. I’m the issue!” You cry pitifully, “I don’t want him to think I’m not over Eunseok because—I’m still so angry.”

“He cheated on you with your best friend, you don’t have to forgive him to be able to move on to a healthy relationship.” She states.

“But it feels—“ You can’t find words for why it feels wrong to want to date Riki, because the thought of it makes your heart race, “I don’t know! I’ve known him for barely a month and I just—“

“You like him and feel like it’s not real because it happened too fast?” She reads you like a damn book, but you’re almost thankful for it.

“Yes!” You cry, “And he deserves better than that.”

“So, you like Riki?” She repeats her question, her tone matching yours.

You find yourself answering before you can even think, “Yes!”

Your stomach drops as Belle stands like her work here is done. 

It isn’t you realizing you like Riki that has your stomach filling with dread and guilt, it's the fact that you like him more than you have ever liked anyone. 

You liked Eunseok, even told him you loved him, but that seed hadn’t grown in your chest no matter how many times it left your mouth in the form of ‘I love you.’

Yet, you imagine yourself with Riki—loving him—and it all sounds so…easy. The mundanity you dreaded having to live with Eunseok sounded like a dream with Riki. Falling in love with him sounded like something you wouldn’t mind experiencing. 

Which, all things considered, is fucking terrifying to you.

Hiyyih, who had been silently watching the interaction, pats the shoulder of the boy beside her, “I think she’s gonna need that joint now, Seob.”

The shaggy-haired producer straightens up, nodding and quickly reaching for his bag to pull the baggy from the front pocket.

Belle moves toward your closet, “Manchae, Hiyyih, help her wipe her face while I find her an outfit for the game tonight.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head in a panicked way that makes Belle grab your face in her hands, uncaring of the fact she’s squishing your cheeks, “Do you want Riki to be your boyfriend, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are going to this game, and you are going to look hot.” She walks you through it like she’s talking to a child, “And when he scores the winning home run, you’re going to run onto that field and jump him, got it?”

Jongseob raises his hand again, though doesn't wait to be called on as he interjects, “Home runs are baseball—“

“That isn't the point, dipshit.” Eunchae sasses before turning her attention back to you, “Can I ask what the gift he got you was?”

You nod as Belle releases your face, sniffling softly as you hold up your hand to showcase the charm bracelet on your wrist. Two charms hang from it, your birthstone and a tiny lacrosse stick. “He said he got it before…everything happened.”

“He bought you a charm bracelet after a week of knowing you?” Jongseob asks in a suspicious tone, and when the three girls besides you shoot him a dirty look, he holds his hands up in surrender, “Sorry—it’s just I think I’ve…connected some dots.”

“You haven’t connected shit.” Eunchae says, before promptly adding, “I just wanted to say that, you can continue.”

Jongseob shoots her an annoyed look, before looking at you and beginning, “Well, I was talking to Soul the other day—y’know the one that goes to music club with me— and he said he and Riki were friends in Freshman year.”

His hesitant pause has you looking at him and saying, “What does that mean to me?”

He continues, “He mentioned him having a huge crush on a girl then—“

“Why would I want to know this, Seob?” You question with exasperation.

“Let me finish!” He insists, and you sigh, motioning for him to land the damn plane, “I did some digging—aka asking his teammates about it—and while most of them didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me, Jake kind of insinuated it was you.”

You blink, “How did he insinuate it was me?”

“Well, I asked him what he thought about your breakup and he got all weepy about it. Said he was rooting for you guys to be endgame.” Typical Jake. “Then, I mentioned you guys not knowing each other for long and it sounded like he almost said that Riki’s been into you for years.”

The four of you blink at the boy’s retelling of events, and Belle is the first to snap out of her surprise, “And why didn’t you tell us this when you found out?”

“You guys never let me talk. Plus, that seemed like the last thing she wanted to hear.” He argues, then motions to you, and none of the girls in the room can really argue back. He doesn’t seem all that bothered about the truth of his own statement, though, as he holds up the bagged joint once more. “Now, are we smoking this or not?”

Parking your car has never left you with such a dreadful feeling in your gut, which Jongseob swore a hit of his shitty joint would ease, yet all it did was jumble your thoughts more. 

The temperature sensor reads a biting 30°F, and as you zip up the thick teddy puffer jacket you shiver with pure nerves. “Fuck.” 

Flipping down the sun visor, you check your reflection in its mirror. The warm light reflects off the gloss on your lips, which you fuss over with the pad of your finger even though it’s as perfect as it was when you applied it. 

Stalling. You’re stalling.

With a deep breath, you snap the visor shut and cut the engine, grabbing your purse and phone before stepping into the biting cold. The frigid air slashes through the layers of your outfit, your jacket doing little to stop the chill. You already regret picking the cuter option over something more practical, but you’d made your bed. Now you had to lie in it.

Ain't that the truth.

The field is already alive with movement and muted chatter. Teams are warming up, their voices cutting through the chilly air as balls thud against lacrosse sticks and cleats crunch on frosted grass. You can’t see Riki yet, but the sight of the players in their jerseys stirs the knot in your chest.

Decelis Demons v. YG Pirates

As you near the bleachers, a familiar voice calling your name stops you in your tracks. 

“Over here!” 

You turn, spotting Riki’s mom waving at you with a warm smile, flanked by two young girls bundled in matching puffer jackets. His sisters. The younger one is tugging impatiently at her scarf, while the older stands with her arms crossed, looking vaguely unimpressed by the entire ordeal.

“Mrs. Nishimura, hi!” you manage once you’ve climbed the bleachers to join her side, hoping your smile doesn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says, her voice as kind as you remember. “Riki didn’t mention anything, but I figured you’d be here for him.”

Your face heats at her words, but you force a nod, gripping the strap of your purse tighter and attempting to ignore the cold nipping at your fingers. “Of course, even if it's colder than a Yeti’s ass out here.” 

You almost regret your colorful language before the older girl snorts softly, “Preach.” 

Mrs. Nishimura chuckles, “It is freezing,” she agrees. “I told Riki he should’ve picked an indoor sport, but you know how stubborn he is.” She jests, and then proceeds to add, “Oh, and these are my daughters, Maki and Runa

You smile at the two of them, Maki’s a bit more subdued but Runa’s bright as she waves. At the mention of Riki, your eyes scan the field for a glimpse of his number. The players are still warming up, running drills and shouting plays back and forth.

And then you see him.

Riki stands near the goalpost, casually balancing his stick across his shoulders as he chats with a teammate. Even in the midst of the pregame chaos, he moves with the same effortless confidence that always draws attention, his tall frame impossible to miss.

The sight of him stirs something unfamiliar and electric in your chest. It’s not the usual comfort you’ve come to associate with him—it’s sharper, more restless, like an itch you can’t quite get to.

You tear your gaze away from him when you hear your name called once again, finding Gaeul quickly climbing the steps of the bleachers to get to you, her free gloved hand catching your arm happily, “I was hoping you’d be here!”

You smile, part of you relieved that she isn’t acting differently despite everything, and your eyes fall on the poster board in her other hand, “Is that for Jay?”

She follows your gaze and nods, unrolling it to reveal ‘Go Jay!’ with a big 19 under it, which you assume is his jersey number. The dark red sweatshirt under her puffer reads the same number as well. “Cute, right?”

“Very cute.” You reply with a soft laugh, smoothing a crease from the corner of the poster board as you add, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“He better,” Gaeul huffs in a mock seriousness, “M’freezing my ass off for him.”

Mrs. Nishimura, who seems to have been listening in from her spot beside you, chimes in with a knowing smile, “He still insists you come to every game?”

You momentary confusion is quickly shaken off as you remind yourself that Gaeul and Jay have been dating since sophomore year, of course Riki’s mom knows her, and the girl in question nods fondly, “He says I’m his good luck charm—“ She gasps, and you blink, “—I forgot to kiss him before I left earlier!”

Your brief panic induced by her gasp subsides as you giggle softly, “Oh, no!”

She playfully smacks your arm and grabs it, “You’re coming with me for that.”

Your laughter doesn’t subside, only grows, as she motions to the Nishimura’s that you’ll ‘be right back’ and begins tugging you along down the bleachers, “Where are we going?”

“To kiss my man.” She answers, but pauses in her step to look at you and clarify, “I’m kissing him, you…can kiss Riki.”

“I will not be doing that, but I respect the effort.”

She groans melodramatically as the both of you continue walking down the bleachers, “Aww, c’mon, you guys were so cute together!”

You thank the lord that it’s too loud for Rin and her daughters to hear the girl from this distance, both for your sake and Riki’s, but laugh softly, “I don’t think kissing him a week after breaking his heart is the right move to get him back.”

Gaeul pauses on the last step to look at you with an unhinged jaw as soon as you realize your mistake, opening your mouth to deny before the accusations leave her pink lips, “You want him back?” 

Her words are shrill with excitement and you have the sudden urge to shrink into nothingness as you hover a cold shivering hand over her mouth and avoid the gazes of those around you both, “Bitch, shut up!”

She flattens her lips in an attempt to compose herself but fails to muffle the excited squeal and bounce of her gait as she tugs you down the side steps of the bleachers to get to the field.

The lacrosse field feels bigger up close, the expanse of frosted grass sprawling out under the big lights on either side of it. Gaeul marches ahead with purpose, her poster now tucked under her arm as she scans for Jay. You lag behind slightly, your thoughts still buzzing from the last few minutes.

“Gaeul, slow down,” you mutter, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as the cold nips at your ears.

She ignores you, her focus locked on a cluster of players by the bench. You spot Jay among them, laughing at something one of his teammates says. Gaeul picks up her pace, her excitement palpable, leaving you to follow at a more hesitant shuffle.

You scan the group of players, not recognizing any of them as Riki. When you do find him, you exhale heavily at the sight of him deep in conversation with Jungkook, the coach clearly getting on his ass for something.

“Hey there,” a voice calls out, smooth and laced with a confidence that plants a murky feeling in your gut. You glance up to see a guy in a YG Pirates jersey standing in front of you, his helmet tucked under his arm and a cocky grin on his face. 32 is bold and dark green on his chest.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he asks, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You take a step back instinctively, your eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”

He raises a brow, his grin widening as if you’ve said something amusing. “Feisty, huh? Just my type.”

Your stomach twists at his boldness, irritation bubbling under your skin. You glance over his shoulder, hoping to spot Gaeul, but she’s already halfway to Jay, oblivious to your predicament. “Ew,” you blanch curtly, trying to sidestep him, but he shifts to block your path again.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he presses, leaning in slightly. “I’m just trying to be friendly. What’s your name?”

Before you can muster a surely bitchy reply—or a curse—a presence appears behind you.

“I don’t think this is your side of the field,” a familiar voice cuts in, light yet edged with authority. You glance up to see Heeseung standing at your side now, his lacrosse stick casually balanced over his shoulder, his expression calm but his gaze sharp. “Can’t you tell by the colors, dude?”

The opposing player stiffens slightly, his grin faltering as he sizes up Heeseung. “Just talkin’, man,” he mutters, his tone defensive now.

Heeseung doesn’t flinch, his smile remaining intact as he tilts his head slightly. “Right. And now you’re done.”

The player hesitates for a moment before shrugging and backing away, muttering something under his breath as he turns and jogs off. Once he’s gone, Heeseung turns to you, his easy smile returning. “You good?”

You refuse to utter ‘that was hot,’ so you settle for a, “Yeah. Thanks for that, though.”

Heeseung shakes his head, “Nah, you had that handled.”

You barely miss a beat with your response, “Yeah, but it was sweet of you.”

He shrugs with his hand up and that same grin, “What can I say?”

You make a face, “Not that.“

He goes to defend himself, but Gaeul appears with smeared lipgloss and a pretty grin to happily say, “Coach is kicking us off the field.”

“Joyful.” You say with a playfully stiff smile that has Heeseung whining. A soft giggle from you has his frown turning into a grin again and he shoots you a salute.

“I’ll tell Riki you wished him good luck, ma’am.”

“Don’t get concussed, say that too.” You call back as Gaeul tugs you back toward the bleachers, poster under her arm creased. She’s beaming, and you giggle at her glowing smile, “I think I know what you and Jay got up to while I was harassed.”

Her smile drops as she gasps with concern, “Harassed? What happened?” 

“It’s not that serious.” You quickly assure her, “Heeseung kinda scared him off, he was a guy on the YG team.”

“Ew.” She makes a face as you both arrive at the bleachers, and you nod.

“That’s what I said.” 

As you both arrive back to your seats, and you gasp and happily accept a hot chocolate Rin had thoughtfully gotten for you with a sweet side hug. God you hope Riki still wants you and you can keep this saint of a woman in your life.

As if on cue, the referee blows a sharp whistle, and the players jog to their respective side of the field. Riki is dismissed by Jungkook and pulls his helmet from under his arm as the other members of the team crowd around the coach, his head turning just enough to scan the bleachers.

Your heart skips as his gaze locks onto yours for a fleeting moment.

He doesn’t smile, not exactly—but his expression softens, his eyes warming like he’s relieved to see you there. The corner of his mouth twitches just enough to feel like a secret, like something meant only for you.

And then he pulls his helmet over his head and focuses on Jungkook’s words, it almost feels like a shock to your system but the lingering warmth in your chest makes it hard to feel the cold anymore.

You watch the team huddle, Jungkook’s game face amusing enough to you that you snicker softly before your attention falls back to Riki. Heeseung, who if your memory serves you right is 01, catches Riki’s shoulder in a brotherly way. 

Your brows furrow as you see Riki’s head tilt slightly at what Heeseung says, glancing in your direction and then the opposing teams, and you assume his eyes search for a jersey that reads 32.

The players move onto the field with another whistle, and you watch with dread as two opposing jerseys approach the center of the field. 10 and 32.

Now, you know very little about lacrosse despite it being your school’s biggest sport and your brother playing it, but you know that Riki is a midfielder. You know this through his excited play-by-plays of practice to you on the phone whenever he was finally out, as well as the basic knowledge of how a lacrosse game starts. Two midfielders wrestling for the ball. 

It couldn’t be called wrestling, however. Riki swipes it barely millisecond after the ref blows his whistle, tossing the ball to 05. 

You gasp softly as his shoulder slams into 32s chest hard enough to send him stumbling back, but his body moves quickly toward the opposing defense and away from the startled enemy. If you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was only doing so to keep him off Jake’s back. “Geez, what did you feed him?”

You ask Rin softly, eyes trained on her son and your brain attempting to wrap itself around the difference in his body language and…aggression on-field, when he had barely risen above a loud speaking volume in your presence. She chuckles, “Would you believe me if I said his diet largely consisted of taiyaki and ramen growing up?”

“No.” You awe at her words, eyes still on him but flitting to meet hers for a brief second, “That’s just unfair.”

“Tell me about it,” The elder of his sisters huffs, “I ate my vegetables and have glasses an inch thick, but he gets to eat sweets all his life and has perfect vision.”

“That’s your fathers genetics, not mine.” Rin clarifies, offering you an explanation like it’s second nature already, “That man can’t see something coming straight at his face until it’s already hit him.”

“My brother has horrible vision, too.” You snicker softly, your eyes rarely leaving Riki but only doing so to look between the three Nishimuras, “Refused to wear contacts, even for lacrosse.” You motion in the general direction of the field, and the older woman seems intrigued.

“Your brother plays?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh at your brother’s expense, “Not since highschool, and he was benched most games because he couldn’t see the ball,” your words have Rin laughing and Maki snorting, “plus he generally sucked. He really only joined because his friend was on the team.”

Jake scores a goal and the crowd around you goes wild with cheers, mainly higher in pitch. You let out a supportive cheer and immediately act like you didn’t when his helmeted head turns your way. You’re almost positive a shit-eating grin has formed behind his helmet.

The game continues, the scoreboard leaning toward Decelis’ victory as the first two quarters come to a close and half-time ensues. 

“No.” You reject Gaeul’s suggestion almost as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Aww, c’mon!” She whines, tugging your arm closest to her, “His face would be so funny!”

“He’s wearing a helmet, you can’t see his face. And it’s small enough for you to hold up by yourself.” You point at the poster-board in his hands, which she had happily held up for a good portion of the game until her arms got tired.

“But my arms are gonna fall off.” She groans melodramatically, “Please?”

“Buy me another cocoa and I’ll think about it.”

As half-time comes to a close, your right arm is screaming for relief while you hold your side of the poster up and nurse a cup of steaming cocoa in the other hand. Gaeul shamelessly screams in support of her boyfriend, who you see hunch over slightly like he’s holding back laughter of amusement.

Your hand feels like it’s about to fall off, and you curse yourself for refusing the mittens Eunchae had offered in favor of showing off your new nails. ‘They’re too pretty to cover up,’ you had whined, yet now you wouldn’t be surprised if your fingers started breaking off like a vampire’s from Twilight.

The scoreboard reads heavily in the home team’s favor, and you pray to every deity that the game finally ends for your arm’s sake (and your crippling anxiety). Though, watching Riki slice through YG’s defense and score points like they're nothing doesn’t look like it’ll be getting old for you anytime soon. 

“You’re drooling.” Gaeul teases as you suck in a sharp breath at the sight of Riki once again shoulder 32 off balance, hard enough for him to fall onto his ass this time. Tensions are high as the time counts down, though part of you’s hoping this never ends. 

“I don’t drool.” You retort in a soft grumble, yet you rub the side of your wrist over the corners of your mouth self-consciously. “I’m a fucking lady.”

“Right…” Gaeul agrees with playful doubt in her tone that’s punctuated by giggles as you playfully shove her shoulder.

The final whistle slices through the winter air as Riki launches the ball into the goal, accompanied by an uproar of cheers and groans from the crowd. Decelis has won, 12-7, the scoreboard glowing with the decisive win. The players pour onto the field, some celebrating, others trudging off in defeat. Your eyes dart instinctively toward Riki, helmet under his arm, hair damp with sweat as he exchanges fist bumps and quick words with his teammates. The way his expression softens to a grin when Jake slings an arm around his shoulders makes your stomach twist.

You clutch your empty cocoa cup, suddenly desperate to find a reason to approach him. Before you can muster up a plan, the chaos swallows him—players crowding, parents flooding in from the sidelines, and Gaeul’s excited tug on your sleeve pulling you back to the moment.

“Let’s go find Jay!” she beams, and you immediately look toward Rin, Maki, and Runa.

The woman smiles warmly and pats your shoulder, “We always wait in the parking lot for him. You two can have a moment.”

Gaeul is dragging you down the bleachers the moment you softly thank the woman. Your heart thrums as you scan the chaos for Riki, but he’s nowhere to be found. Gaeul bounces ahead, her attention locked on her boyfriend. 

Her hand slips from your arm as you’re both swept into the excitement, and her curls disappear in the crowd. 

The field feels like a warzone, buzzing with shouts, laughter, and the rhythmic stomp of cleats against frozen grass. You’re jostled in every direction, bodies pressing and colliding as parents swarm to congratulate their kids, and the players themselves disappear into the fray. Your fingers curl around the half-empty cocoa cup as if it might ground you, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Where is he?

You catch glimpses of Riki’s teammates—Jake’s unmistakable blonde head bobbing as he jokes with Heeseung, Sunghoon hoisted onto someone’s shoulders—but Riki remains elusive, swallowed by the tide of bodies.

“Riki!” His name slips out, barely audible over the noise, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. What are you even doing? Someone brushes past you, hard enough to make you stumble. “Watch it,” you mutter, turning to see a player in a YG jersey, helmet off and grin too familiar.

32.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just gives you a once-over that makes your skin crawl. His shoulder brushes yours again as he angles toward you, his smirk sharper now. “Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he drawls, voice low enough that it’s almost lost in the noise.

You make a face of disdain, like speaking to him both disgusts you and is beneath you, “Is that supposed to be cute?”

“C’mon,” He says, tone dripping with what you assume is his attempt at charm, “Don’t be like that. You’ve been watchin’ me the whole game.”

“I don’t even know you.” You respond with the same look on your face that reads you’d rather be anywhere else than where you are, listening to him.

He steps closer, undeterred by your tone and clear disgust, “That can be remedied,” His voice is low, and you see his hand move from his side to reach for your waist.

Your anger takes over your motor control, and the half-empty, long chilled cocoa in your hand splatters over the front of his jersey, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

The cocoa splashes onto his jersey in a satisfying arc, the dark liquid seeping into the white fabric. His grin falters for a moment, replaced by a stunned look that quickly twists into irritation. “Are you fucking serious?” he snaps, brushing at the stain, but it’s a futile effort.

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” You retort, mirroring his tone, “Who the fuck told you that you could fucking touch me?” 

The players around you have started to notice the commotion, a few stopping to watch as Number 32 bites back, “You’re not even worth half of what that bitch offered me.”

If what boiled within you was anger, then what it morphs into at the player’s statement must be seething fury, “Excuse me?”

“What’s goin’ on here?” A hand clasps over your shoulder but the voice calms any volatile reaction brewing in your gut, Jungkook stepping between you and the YG player.

Jungkook’s presence immediately shifts the energy around you. His broad frame looms between you and Number 32, the way his body blocks out the other player like a wall of stone, calm yet unyielding. The cocky grin fades from the YG player’s face as he holds up his hands in mock surrender, shooting a glare at Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t even glance at the YG player, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer, his gaze softening slightly when he sees the tension in your shoulders and the shift in your jaw. “You okay?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle in the midst of the chaos.

You nod, even though the heat of anger still lingers in your chest. “I’m fine,” you say, but your voice shakes just enough that Jungkook catches it.

His eyes flick briefly to the YG player, who’s clearly not in the mood to test Jungkook’s patience any further. “Walk with me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You want to protest, to stay and search for Riki, but something about the way Jungkook stands there—tall, unshakable—tells you it’s not worth resisting.

He guides you through the crowd and off the field with his hands on your shoulders. When the two of you arrive at the edge of the field where the bleachers drop off and the parking lot comes into view, he releases you. “Do I need to go talk to that kid’s coach? Or parents?”

“No, I think the shit-colored stain on his jersey says enough.” You retort swiftly, the implications of his words stick with you, though. ‘You’re not even worth half of what that bitch offered me.’

It isn’t as if you woke up yesterday, you know he’s talking about Nayeon. Whether it be some kind of intuition or you’re just that fucking familiar with her thought process from years of what you had thought was friendship, you know it. 

“Hey.” Jungkook’s gruff but somewhat gentle call snaps you out of your stewing, and you blink at him, “Don’t do anything I’m gonna hear about, okay?”

Your immature response is interrupted by the loud cheers and chatter morphing into shouts and hollers of a more alarmed tone that has the both of you looking in the direction of the field. Jungkook doesn't seem eager to let you involve yourself in whatever it is that’s going down on the field, you know this because he’s shooing you off toward your car in a dismissive but authoritative tone. 

If you cared at all about anything except beating Nayeon’s face in at the moment you would be protesting and following after him as he jogs toward the commotion, but you don’t. Instead, you walk to your car, toss your Prada bag into the passenger seat as it begins to warm up, and plot.

Watching your friend group’s grins fall while learning that you did not, in fact, kiss Riki after the game but left without even speaking to him in a fit of blind rage was not how you wanted to start your weekend. You blame their soured moods for the fact that all four of them were avidly against your plan to beat Nayeon’s face in the next time you see her, but begrudgingly decided to not jump to conclusions.

The only proof you have that Nayeon was the one to sic that cretin on you may be his words, which aren’t worth much, but you refuse to believe anything else.

Monday arrives with not a singular text or call from Riki, and while Belle has already talked you off of the metaphorical ledge about it, you feel the urge to disappear off the face of the Earth every time you imagine seeing him again after leaving the game he asked you to attend without so much as a word.

Part of you figures the silence on his end is payback, or him deciding to finally let his alleged crush on you go. The other part of you really hopes he was just busy.

Jake is…silent in your second period. Not that you’d mind the silence on any other day, but it’s definitely not normal. Well, he’s silent until he catches sight of the charm bracelet on your wrist as it clinks softly on the desk. His grin is back in seconds and he takes his phone out.

“Want a picture?” You offer sarcastically. When Jake eagerly nods and holds his phone up for the picture, you shoot it a mock smile and manicured middle finger as your charm bracelet catches the light above.

With giddy giggles, Jake takes the photo and practically bounces in his seat in joy as he taps his thumbs on his screen hastily. You’re rolling your eyes and looking down at your worksheet when he asks, “Wanna know who I’m texting?”

“If I wanted to know I’d ask.” You respond swiftly, tapping the eraser-end of your pencil on the desk absentmindedly.

“It’s Riki.” He states with a smugness that pisses you off.

Looking up from the paper, you raise your brows, “Okay?”

“He needed proof,” He adds on with his arms crossed as he leans back in his seat, “Wanna know why?”

“I feel like you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

He’s still smirking as he proves you right, “He thinks you hate him.”

You blink, annoyed nonchalance pushed aside by genuine confusion, “Why would he think that?”

Jake shrugs, though his face seems anything but clueless and you hate that he knows more than you do, “Maybe ‘cause you left the game without saying anything to him.”

“Jungkook made me get off the field.” 

“You could’ve waited with his family in the parking lot.”

“Well, I didn’t.” You snap, growing frustrated with the conversation despite it being your own damn fault, “Why are you telling me this, Jake?”

“‘Cause he’s my friend and he’s been miserable.”

“Then he should talk to me.” You retort with a sigh, guilt filling your gut despite your defensive words, and he tilts his head with a nod of agreement, “If I hated him he’d know. I don’t exactly keep that shit a secret.”

Jake, who had bore witness to your fight with Jaclyn Delvacchio in junior year, hums, “Well, can you do us all a favor and talk to him, please?”

“We have fifth period, I’m not gonna ignore him for an hour when he sits next to me.” You roll your eyes and focus back down at your worksheet.

By the time the bell rings, you’re halfway between plotting your own demise and debating if you should actually try to talk to Riki. The idea makes your stomach twist. What if Jake was wrong, and Riki doesn’t want to hear from you? What if your silence solidified something in him—pushed him away for good?

But then you remember how he smiled at you that day in the hallway, the soft tug of his lips like he couldn’t stop himself, and how his eyes lit up when you agreed to come to the bowling date. You remember the way his voice faltered ever-so-slightly when he asked you, like he was bracing himself for rejection but couldn’t bear not to try.

The thought makes your stomach hurt and your chest heavy, and you realize something that makes you want to kick yourself: you don’t want to lose that. You don’t want to lose him.

Yet, you so easily brushed him aside in your list of priorities to stew in your anger about someone who shouldn’t even be a thought in your mind at this point. 

You screwed up. Again. 

At this point, you feel like you’re winning the losing game. Not only do you hate losing, but you hate the feeling in your chest and gut that makes you want to go home and rot until Riki forgets you ever existed. Belle’s voice screams in your head to talk to him, to make the effort to speak to him and throw away your pride.

So, instead of staying in your old Latin teacher’s class for fourth period grading papers, you persuade her to let you spend your fourth period ‘at lunch with your friends’. 

Your friends all share the same lunch period; sixth, when you’ve already gone home. So you lied, yes.

But Riki has fourth period lunch.

You slip through the cafeteria doors, the clang of trays and the murmur of conversation fading as you scan the room for him. The place is packed, and your heart beats louder than the chatter around you. It’s ridiculous—Riki isn’t hard to find. But your anxiety builds anyway, sending a slight tremble through your hands.

You spot him by the window, his profile framed by sunlight, his usual quiet demeanor marking him as an island in the chaos of the cafeteria. His friends surround him, but they’re not your focus. Your eyes zero in on him, his long sleeves pulled up to his elbows, his hair messy and covering his forehead like he didn’t feel like styling it this morning, the rings on his hands that glint in the cafeteria light.

But before you can make your way over, the sound of a voice you loathe cuts through the air, sharper than glass.

“A couple hundred bucks and he was practically my dog.” Nayeon muses at the two girls you barely recognize that sit across from her at a table not far from you, “Sucks that he failed, though. Would have spent my money on someone else.”

“So you…had him hit on her?” The girl on the left asks, a bit confused as she exchanges a look with the girl beside her.

Nayeon seems eager to relay the details, “I told him she liked playing hard to get,” She shrugs disinterested, yet you see a sliver of the smirk on her face from your angle, “made him all the more eager to knock her down a peg.”

The two girls seem peeved by what she says, like any sane person would be, but anything either wants to say dies on their tongue as they catch sight of you. “Girl…”

One trails off as you begin your approach, the same lightness in your gut that has your vision clouded with seething fury.

She looks over her shoulder just enough for you to see her smirk drop into wide-eyed fear.

Your hand catches the back of her head, slamming the side of her face into the table with little care for the eyes that immediately find you, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, bitch. What was that?” There’s ‘ooo’s and ‘oh shit’s from the wuickly forming crowd as you pull her up by her hair, launching the flailing girl onto the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She scrambles off the ground, immediately getting in your face as she hisses, “You don’t deserve him.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You curse as your hand meets her face, and she shrieks as her head snaps to side. 

Nayeon recoils for a moment, eyes wide with shock, but the anger on her face quickly replaces any hesitation. "You think I'm scared of you?" She spits, moving toward you with a snarl. She may not have expected this, but now that it's happening, she seems desperate to prove herself.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, you shove her into one of the metal chairs, the clattering sound of it screeching across the floor as she stumbles backward. The two girls hasten to get out of the way, faces a mix of fear and ‘oh shit’. 

Nayeon picks herself up with blind fury guiding her actions, hands flying out as she lunges forward to shove you back. Your hands grasp her hair again, and the crowd surrounding the scene roars.

Her nails claw at your wrist as you yank her forward. She’s small, but her anger makes her stronger than she has any right to be. The fight is a mess of hair pulling and shoving, curses from you and shrieks from her.

You shove her hard into the table again, the force sending a tray of half-eaten food crashing to the floor, and the crowd goes wild, hooting and cheering. The heat in your chest ignites with every movement. The adrenaline rush is undeniable.

Nayeon's attempts to push you back only seem to fuel your anger further. Her breath is ragged, and you can practically taste the bitterness she's been carrying since the moment you stepped into her world. Every movement of hers is desperate, like she's trying to claw her way back to a victory she's long since lost.

"Get the fuck off me!" she yells, her voice barely audible over the chaos. But you don't listen. You slam her against the chair again, hard enough that she falls onto her ass, eyes wide with disbelief. Nayeon's face contorts in pure anger as you approach again, her hands flying up in a futile attempt to strike you. Her nails scratch at your arms, but the pain barely registers.

But then, someone grabs your waist, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. The world tilts as you're pulled off of Nayeon, feet leaving the ground. For the split second that you’re struggling against them, thinking it’s one of her friends or a teacher, you curse at them too.

Then the cologne hits your nose and the voice hits your ears, “Alright, that’s enough, pretty girl.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Riki’s voice cuts through the frenzy, low and soft in your ear, but with a sharp edge of firmness that you’ve never heard from him before. His grip on you doesn’t waver, and despite the anger still coursing through your veins, you freeze for a second, thrown off by the ease he had pulling you off of that traitorous bitch—who’s being held back by Jake and Jungwon.

“Skank!” Nayeon shrieks, clawing at Jake and Jungwon’s arms that keep her from lunging at you again.

Any calm that Riki’s presence brought you is washed away, but he pulls you back by the waist as you move to have a go at Nayeon again. His arms wrapping around you to keep your arms at your sides as you bite back,  “Says you, bitch.”

“Easy, easy,” He eases, your back hitting his chest as your jerky and angry movements force him to pick you up again, “Cool it, baby. You got her good.”

“Get her out of here before the teachers get here,” Heeseung orders in a hushed tone as the other members of the lacrosse team grab at phones and shove the crowd back.

“I’m not—hey!” Your defiant statement is interrupted by the arm around your waist tightening and your feet lifting off the floor once more. “Riki!”

“I know, I know.” Riki’s hold is firm as you struggle weakly against him, his voice deep and low like he’s easing a wild animal, his touch warm. You can’t bring yourself to fight back the way you did with Nayeon as he walks you out of the cafeteria building. His presence, the warmth of his chest against your back, it all has your defense mechanisms easing up and your anger softening to a low simmer.

When he finally sets you back down, the cool chill of the air eased only by the sunlight hitting the two of you, you turn to face him with a charged glare, “I can walk.”

He holds his hands up in good faith, or maybe an attempt to calm you down, “I know, baby.”

“And she deserved that.”

“I know, baby.”

The way he repeats himself so softly, how he’s letting you take out the remnants of your anger on him, it only makes the ache in your chest worsen. You exhale sharply, “Stop that.”

“Okay.” He says, voice soft but no pain or hurt to be detected in his voice, only in his eyes.

Your own sting almost automatically with both frustration and anger at yourself and no one else, “No, not—“ Taking a deep breath, your hands move to your face, “This is all wrong.”

“What is?” You try not to notice how he doesn’t attach ‘pretty girl’ or ‘baby’ to the end of his question. You fail.

“Everything.” You mutter, exhaling another soft, “Fuck.”

“You’re bleeding.” He points out, his hands pulling yours from your face to examine the scratches up your arms. 

“Nails are intact, though.” You mumble softly, trying to make yourself feel better. Riki looks at you in slight disapproval, brows furrowing, and you add, “I’m okay.”

He sighs, shaking his head, “There’s a first-aid kit in the locker room, let me clean you up.”

“Ew, I’m not going into the boys locker room.” You reject his offer with an obstinance that would usually amuse him, yet he shows a sliver of frustration in his body language. “And I told you, I’m fine.”

“Okay, you can either walk or I can carry you.”

“As if.” 

Your challenge is met with him raising his eyebrows and lunging for you a second later. You flinch and swat at his hands, “Okay, fine!” He pulls back again with a ‘that’s what i thought’ look, “I’ll walk.” you add with a defiant ‘hmph’ as you walk past him.

He doesn’t press the issue, following you towards the athletics building and holding the door open for you to enter first, to your utter fury of course. Stupid boys. Stupid emotions.

When you find the boys locker room, you pause as he pushes the door open, “I’m not going in there.”

He sighs with a nod like he expected as such, “I’ll be right back, stay here.”   

You sigh and cross your arms, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the wall across the locker room entrance.

Riki returns with a first aid kit and his hoodie, “Let’s go to the bleachers, no one’s got practice today.” You assume the hoodie is for you, and you’re proved correct when he tosses it into your face and snickers when you curse at him. “C’mon.”

You begrudgingly walk with him out of the athletics building to the school field not a far walk from the entrance. 

You hear the bell ring from where you sit on the bleachers minutes later as your chilled fingers are tended to by the lacrosse player, “You’ll be late, you know.”

“We’ll both be. It’s fifth period now.” He states as he delicately cleans the raw skin streaking up your wrist with an alcohol wipe.

“Ow.” You mumble, and he tsks with a growing smile.

“Don’t be a baby.” He teases, and you mock his words in a higher pitched voice back to him.

“Fuck you.”

He snickers softly, gently rotating your hand in his to clean the visible lines tainting the delicate flesh, “Baby.”

His statement isn’t the beckon or fond coo you wish it’d be, but it causes flutters in your gut all the same. You mock him again and he huffs softly in amusement, refraining from continuing the back and forth to focus on your scratched up wrists and forearms. 

As he moves to your right hand, his touch lingers on the charm bracelet hanging off your wrist as he dabs at the skin. The metal chain catches the sunlight, twinkling faintly against your wrist as Riki pauses. His thumb brushes over one of the charms absentmindedly before he speaks, voice softer than you expected. “You’re wearing it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, trying to sound casual despite the way your pulse stutters. His touch, even as fleeting as it is, sends a warm shiver through you.

“I just…” he trails off, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly, his gaze filled with something tender. “I wasn’t sure if it was your style.”

“Why’s that?” You ask with a slight furrow of your brows, and he snickers softly.

“I’m sure it’s not the luxury you’re accustomed to.” 

“Everything I wear isn’t expensive. I’m not a snob.” You huff in slight offense, though he finds it amusing.

“Never said you were a snob, princess.” He clarifies, discarding the alcohol wipe to grab the ointment from the kit, “Nothing wrong with being spoiled.”

“I’m not—“ you go to argue, but the amusement on his face has the words dying on your tongue as you look away from him, “You’re such an ass.”

“Aww, I’m wounded.” He pouts softly, before it turns into that pretty smile again and he laughs softly, “It looks good on you.”

It takes a half-second for you to remember he’s talking about the bracelet, and your instinctive reply comes in the form of a weak, “Fuck off.”

His head falls forward as he laughs at your weakly aggressive statement. His touch is still gentle as he continues, hands unbelievably warm around yours. How unfair.

“Your hands are freezing.” He states softly, tube of ointment placed aside in favor of engulfing your hands in his. You watch him rub at them, your nails clicking against his rings with every movement until they catch his attention, “These are nice.”

“I know.”

He huffs in amusement, biting his bottom lip before he says, “‘Course you do.”

The tension between the two of you shifts, delicate and tenuous, like a thread stretched too tight. Riki’s touch is warm and steady, and you hate how easy it would be to let yourself relax into it. His thumbs keep brushing over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, and your chest tightens with every pass.

You clear your throat, trying to focus anywhere but his hands, but when you look up, his gaze is already on you. It’s not intense, exactly. Not piercing or overwhelming. Just…soft. Patient, even. The kind of look that has your fight or flight instincts kicking in to protect the 

“What?” you snap, defensive and unsure, your voice sharper than you mean for it to be. You regret it instantly when his brow furrows slightly, though his hands don’t pull away.

“Nothing,” he replies softly, his voice steady. “Just glad you’re okay.”

The simplicity of it almost knocks the wind out of you. You blink, trying to find a reply that won’t give you away, but the words stick in your throat. All you can manage is a mumbled, “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone carrying a gentleness that makes you ache. “But I worry about you anyway.”

You don’t know what to do with that—how to handle the sincerity in his voice or the way his touch lingers like he’s afraid to let go. It feels like too much and not enough all at once.

“You shouldn’t,” you mutter, trying to pull your hands back, but he holds them lightly, just enough to keep you there without forcing you.

“Can’t really help it, pretty girl.” His lips curve into a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Especially when you’re getting into fights.”

Your stomach twists, a cocktail of guilt and frustration bubbling to the surface. You want to tell him it wasn’t just a fight. That it was Nayeon, that she deserved it, that you were defending yourself in more ways than one. But that isn’t the truth, is it? Not really.

“I—” You start, then stop, swallowing down the lump rising in your throat. “I don’t—” Your voice wavers, and you hate it. “Riki, I can’t—I’m not good at this.”

“At what?” his hands grasp yours tighter as he leans forward with his gaze so…so attentive. 

“This.” You motion vaguely between the two of you, trying to not cry in front of him. You’re failing horribly. “Us. You. Me. God, fuck.”

“Talk to me, pretty girl.” He pleas softly, and your chest feels as warm as your hands are in his.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You exhale, head dropping back in an attempt to keep your frustrated tears from falling, “And I keep fucking up everything good in my life, and I just—“

His neck cranes slightly to meet your gaze as you avert it to his hands around yours, waiting for you to continue. Listening.

You take a deep breath, “I like you, I really do,” his thumbs slow to a stop against your knuckles, but you don’t look at him, “and you’re so—perfect and I’m not—“

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m not.” You insist, and one of his hands moves to your cheek as you continue, thumb gently wiping away a stray tear, “I’m…messy and mean-“

“I don’t care about that.” He argues gently, but you’re not done.

“-and I can’t even handle my own shit in a mature way so why should I be able to give you anything better—“

You don’t get to finish as his lips press against yours, cutting off your spiraling words with a kiss so sudden and deliberate it steals every thought from your head. 

His hand on your cheek tilts your head up toward him, his other remains holding yours. It’s not a hesitant kiss. There’s nothing unsure or tentative about it, not like the first one he gave you. He isn’t suffocating you, or doing anything more than moving his lips against yours like it’s all he’s wanted to do for years but knows to take his time savoring it instead of rushing in with teeth and tongue.

All you know is that you’re leaning into him, your anger, frustration, and self-doubt melting away under the weight of his touch. It’s a good kiss—better than good. It’s consuming, overwhelming, and entirely too much, yet you feel like more wouldn’t be all that bad.

When he pulls back it isn’t far, his forehead resting against yours. You’re breathless, your lips tingling in the aftermath and brain foggier than you’d like to admit. His nose brushes against your as he says, “I don’t care about any of that,” his voice is low and hoarse, “I just want you.”

You exhale shakily, feeling his words hit you lips, “Riki—“ 

“I’ll wait.” He promises softly, a hint of desperation in his words that has something in your gut fluttering, “However long it takes for you to be ready, I’ll wait.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you shake your head weakly, looking down at your lap. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t care about fair, pretty girl.” He responds with a slight smile, hand moving from your cheek to tilt your chin up and make you look at him. His gaze flits between your eyes and lingers below your nose, a pattern that mirrors your own. “I can wait.”

His words are soft, spoken like an oath as his eyes find your lips again and decide to stay there a while.

“Why?” You ask, barely a whisper.

Riki lifts his gaze to look you in the eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he says, “‘Cause I like you more.”

You roll your eyes, “Is it a competition?”

He hums low, as if apprehensive, “Not much of one.” Your jaw drops slightly as if offended and he laughs softly, “I mean, I have you completely outmatched, pretty girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge with a slight laugh, “How so?”

He shifts closer as he hums again in thought, “Well, you’ve liked me for how long? A few weeks?” The question is more of a statement, and he seems unbothered by the short time-span with the smile on his face, “Yeah, I’ve got you beat.”

“You didn’t know me until recently, so it doesn’t count.” You argue with defiance, and he raises his brows.

“Are you invalidating my feelings for you right now?” He asks in a mock-offended tone, hand moving to his chest.

You scoff with playful annoyance, looking away from him briefly before your gaze finds him all over again, like a moth to a flame, “How long?”

His smile turns shier, and he chuckles awkwardly, “Nah, it’s not a competition. You’re right.”

“Nuh-uh, you started it,” You laugh, shoving his sturdy chest weakly, “C’mon, I already know. I just wanna hear it.”

Your smug words paired with the shrug you give have his eyes narrowing, “You know?”

You nod, “Jake ratted you out.” 

Riki’s eyes widen slightly and he groans, head dropping forward in embarrassment, “I’m gonna kill him.”

Riki lifts his head, still chuckling under his breath as he finally relents, “Alright, fine.” His eyes meet yours again, warm and steady, even as a blush creeps across his cheeks and ears. “Since freshman year. Happy now?”

Despite you being the one to force it out of him, you hold back the urge to giggle and turn away from him. “Very.” You answer with a slightly blissful grin on your face.

“You gonna hold that over my head?” He asks playfully, leaning closer like he wants to kiss you again.

You fight every impulse telling you to close the distance yourself, but let your eyes move between his eyes and smirking lips freely, “I might.”

“Yeah?” He jests softly. 

You hum, deciding to be a little mean. “I could also hold over your head that your mom still thinks we’re dating.”

His eyes shut and the hand creeping towards yours again freezes. His head falls forward and you panic for a moment thinking you went too far before you realize his shoulders are shaking and you can hear soft wheezing. “You’re mean.”

His muffled whine makes you snicker gleefully, and you add, “She said I’m good for you.”

You don’t realize the joy behind those words until he raises his head with a teasing but genuine (and flirty) grin on his face as he asks, “You’re happy about that, huh baby?”

You find yourself teasing him back instead of getting hostile at his flirty tone, probably due to the boost he gave your ego, “Mmm, not as happy as you seem to be with me as your girlfriend. According to your mom, anyway.”

Before he can reply, a familiar voice cuts through the moment.

“Nishimura.”

Both of you whip your heads toward the source of the sound. Standing at the bottom of the bleachers with his arms crossed and an exasperated expression is Jungkook. He’s wearing a hoodie and joggers, looking like he just came from the gym with his curls in a bun, but his sharp eyes land squarely on Riki first, then shift to you.

“What the hell are you two doing up there?” Jungkook asks, though there’s no real heat in his tone.

Riki straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just…taking care of something, Coach.”

Jungkook’s brows rise, and he gestures toward the field. “And why aren’t you in class?”

“I—uh—” Riki stammers before Jungkook waves a hand dismissively.

“Save it. I don’t need the whole story. Just get your ass to class before I have you running suicides until next week.” His gaze softens slightly as it flicks to you. “And you? ”

You shrink a little under his stare, mumbling, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Jungkook lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You—” He shakes his head before gesturing toward the parking lot. “Go home, kid. And no more fights, please—or distracting my team.”

“Alright, alright,” you mumble as you stand. You glance at Riki, who’s already grinning like this whole thing is hilarious, and shoot him a glare. “Stop smiling, you ass.”

Riki just snickers, his grin growing wider as he stands. “I’ll walk you to your car, pretty girl.”

Jungkook shakes his head, muttering something about teenagers and their hormones. “She can walk herself, get to class.” 

Any complaint Riki wants to make is silenced by the pointed finger Jungkook sends him, and he sighs. Your cheeks burn as he leans down to press a kiss to one of them with a soft, “See you later, pretty girl.” 

Riki averts his eyes from Jungkook’s judgmental gaze as his star midfielder jogs down the bleacher steps, offering a respectful bow of his head as he passes.

Jungkook then looks over at you, and you’re already arguing, “I have to get my bag from my locker.” 

He deadpans, clearly unimpressed as he says, “Ask one of your friends to get it for you.” 

Unable to argue with his reasoning, you let out a soft huff and begin patting your pockets for your phone. A relieved sigh escapes your gloss-smudged lips when your fingers brush against the device through a layer of fabric. Silently, you thank whichever of your spirit guides prompted you to button your back pocket before entering the cafeteria.

You suddenly remember another reason to stay a bit longer, “My keys are in my bag!”

Jungkook sighs, “If I see you in the halls in 10 minutes you’re getting banned from my field.”

You grin, bouncing down the steps with a happy, “Thanks, Coach Jeon.”

He makes a face of disgust, hand gently pushing the side of your head as you walk by, “Get out of here.”

It’s almost laughable how quickly the situation disappears, like it never happened. No one snitches—not one person. Even the crowd of students who saw everything miraculously forget when teachers start asking questions. It’s the lacrosse team who spins the story, their collective loyalty so seamless you almost believe they rehearsed it. Nayeon threw the first punch, they all swear. You didn’t fight back. You defended yourself.

The only video evidence of the fight are clips of Nayeon lunging for you and blurry photos, another thing you’re sure the lacrosse team took care of, so the school really have nothing to go off of. By the time the dust settles, it’s like the cafeteria incident is just another school rumor, one of those things everyone knows happened yet every retelling of events sounds skewed in some way.

Your mother hadn’t been informed by the school of the issue, thankfully, but you had endured a scathing voicemail from your father about the ‘stunt’ you pulled with Eunseok’s ‘bright and good’ girlfriend while eating Chinese takeout with Belle Tuesday night. She sat there munching on an eggroll and snatching small pieces of your sweet-fire chicken while your father’s angry ramble drew on and on for a few long minutes before he ended it with a, ‘call me back.’ The laughing fit you and Belle had over that one has become a bit of an inside joke now.

Thursday evening finds you in the kitchen of your home following your Aunt’s slutty brownie recipe with Riki on FaceTime propped up against the egg carton. “Butter, butter, butter…” You mumble to yourself as you reach for the ingredient, making a face as some of the softened dairy gets on your thumb. Riki, who had been silently observing you through the screen, snickers softly. You send a pointed look to the camera, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“M’not, you're just cute.”

“Fuck you.” You lose the fight against the smile forming on your face as you unfold the waxy wrapping of the butter and tip it into the mixing bowl, “I’m always cute.”

He only hums low with that same smirk on his face as he rests his chin on his arm, watching you switch on the mixer and grab a brownie pan from the cabinet beside the stove. A beat passes and he asks, “You don’t have to, you know?”

You glance away from pressing your knuckles into the cookie dough to flatten it along the bottom of the greased pan, “I know, but I don’t want your friends to have anything over me.”

Your joke is received with a soft laugh, “I wouldn’t let them hold it over you.”

“While I would like to see that, this is much easier.” You dismiss as you move to the sink to wash your hands and grab the pack of oreos. “Plus, Jungkook loves slutty brownies so maybe he’ll take the stick out of his ass if he gets one.”

Riki snorts softly on the other end, his bangs messily covering his forehead and eyes, “It’s game day, I don’t think the stick will come out.”

You hum in defeat, shrugging slightly as you begin to place the layer of oreos into the pan, “A sweet treat for good graces then.” 

Once you finish the layer of oreos, pour the brownie batter over it, and stick it in the oven, you sigh loudly. Fanning yourself and pulling your hair off your neck as you move toward your phone to grab it. “Jesus Christ, it’s hot.”

“It’s 30° outside.” 

“I’m not outside, I’m inside.” You sass with a ‘duh’ look on your face as you hold the phone angled up at your face as you walk toward the living room. “And how dare you try to contradict me.”

“Sorry, pretty girl. It won’t happen again.” He responds after a light chuckle.

You feign another roll of your eyes as you fail to fight the smile growing on your lips once again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

The next morning, you arrive at school earlier than you’d like—especially with how fucking cold it is. Still, you look cute and feel it too, with a new lip gloss on your lips and a pair of pearls on your ears to match the ones on your eyes.

Exiting your car, you hasten your trek to the field. The bags rustle at your sides as you chant a soft tune of “I’m so fucking cold” under your breath. Your hands are, once again, not protected by gloves as you so vehemently refuse to cover up Julie’s masterpiece. She was very pleased that her hard work stayed intact during the fight, but recommended you treat your hands with care if you want them to last as long as they usually do. 

Jungkook notices your approach, tipped off by the high-pitched shiver that escapes your lips as you finally arrive on the field—a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team either. They seem to all slowly get distracted by your figure’s approach, eyes drawn to either the bags at your sides or cute way you’re walking in the cold.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook snaps in annoyance, his tone almost dismissive.

“Jesus Christ, this violates the Geneva Conventions in some way, I'm sure.” You huff softly, holding up the bags as you arrive at his side, “I made slutty brownies.”

Jungkook’s frown softens as the team parrots your words hopefully, and he then barks, “Single file, maggots.”

You’re almost too cold to enjoy the spectacle the team provides racing to get first in line, yet keeping a respectful distance ahead of you. You snicker softly as you set the bags down, bending with a shiver to grab them to pass out before the one in front of the line protests. 

“You’re cold?” Kai asks with worry from the front of the line, and the one behind him, Taehyun, steps out of line with his arms held out.

“I’ll pass them out, you need to warm up.” He fusses with a slight scolding tone, “There are hot-packs over there.” He cocks his head toward the bleachers as he takes your place in front of the bags.

You’re left standing there in confusion as Taehyun takes over your current job, walking towards the bleachers in search of the stated hotpacks before a warm object is pressed to your cheek and you startle. 

Riki snickers softly as you look at him in disgust before realizing it’s him, and your face softens to an eyeroll with a soft ‘fuck off’ muttered under your breath. You move to grab the hotpack from him, but he cheekily holds it out of your reach with a boyish giggle. 

The look you give him has him flattening his lips to hold back a grin as he silently hands the heat pack to you with a muttered apology. 

“Why aren’t you in line?” You question, and he has that same smirk on his face.

He shrugs, “Wanted to talk to my girl first.” You give him a look and he groans, “Can’t you just let me indulge for a second?”

“Patience is a virtue, Riki.” You muse as you cross your arms to tuck your hands away with a hotpack in each hand. “Plus, you said you’d wait.”

“And I will—I am.” He confirms with a shake of his head and a lighthearted grin, “But you could be a little more forgiving, pretty girl.”

“I don’t believe in forgiveness.” You retort with a shrug and a pretty smile.

“Niki!” Jake calls out from the line a few yards away, he’s a few players behind with a grin on his face as he says, “Don’t worry about getting in line, I’ll get you one!”

“Yeah, keep talkin’ to your girlfriend~.” Sunghoon teases, causing most of the team to snicker or whistle.

Riki’s ears go red, but when you point it out with a giggle, his hand immediately shoots to one of the red appendages and he shakes his head, “It’s the cold.”

“Niki, our shy boy!” Heeseung coos from the line, and the rest are all too eager to join in.

“Wow, Niki, you're so cute!”

“Niki, kiss her!”

“It’s giving Romeo!”

Riki groans softly, hands covering his face from your vision as you laugh, a warmth blooming in your chest that eases the chill in your bones. “I’m gonna kill them.”

He’s about to say something else when Taki takes a bite of the brownie in his hand and grunts something sounding like “oh yeah” with his words garbled by the mouthful he’s chewing. 

You watch the scene unfold with amusement, leaning back on your heels as the team collectively loses their minds over a baked good. Taki, still mid-chew, looks like he’s having a near-spiritual experience, while Jungkook shouts something about chewing with his mouth closed.

Riki uses the distraction to lower his hands from his face, a grin breaking through his earlier embarrassment as he watches you watching them. His voice cuts through the chaos, low and teasing: “You seem happy.”

Your gaze moves to him, “Is that an issue?”

“Not at all.” He responds smoothly, “You look good when you’re happy.”

“I always look good.” You retort out of habit. 

He seems to have expected it, nodding along in agreement before he asks, “So, if I asked you to wear my jersey instead of whatever cute shirt you were gonna wear tonight, would you?”

“Look good? Yes.” You answer with a light, teasing tone, “Agree? Mmm, maybe.”

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Sweet names will get you nowhere.”

“So, you like it when I call you that?” He asks, stepping closer with a cheeky grin.

You remain defiant, arms crossed as you instinctively lean away from him with a laugh, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t deny it either.” He retorts swiftly, his head tilting and his eyes moving over your face with a smugness that pisses you off.

“No, I didn’t.” You agree, and his eyes narrow slightly at the almost flirty smile on your lips as you turn away from him to make your way back to Taehyun. 

You fight the giddy feeling in your chest as you feel his gaze on you, deciding against sparing a glance back as you hear the crunch of his steps following after you.

As always, you’re right. Riki’s spare jersey looks adorable on you.

“He’s gonna die.” Gaeul practically squeals at the sight of you. It’s a bit warmer than the morning had been when you arrive at the opposing school’s stadium, the long sleeved fleece-lined undershirt protecting you from the chilled breeze. “Bitch, your ass looks fantastic.”

A grin brightens your face and laugh leaves your glossy lips as she fawns over your look, “Right?” You turn slightly to give her a better view of your behind purely out of excitement, because yeah, your ass looks good in these jeans. 

“It’s smiling at me,” She gasps, smacking your butt lightly with a laugh before hooking her arm with yours and beginning to tug you along. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight with everything that happened last game.” 

“Why?” You ask a bit cluelessly, before remembering the event clearer and shaking your head, “Oh, that weird guy? No, I’m fine.”

She hums with a slight frown as the two of you get to the concessions, “I’m so sorry for leaving you in all the chaos, I didn’t realize you weren’t behind me until I got to Jay.”

Sensing the remorse behind her words, you find yourself quickly saying, “Don’t feel bad, I’m okay.”

“Ugh, I need your number! That’s been eating me alive all week!” She huffs softly as the line moves up, “I tried to find you at school but you kept evading me.”

“You couldn’t ask Belle? Don’t you two share a class?” You question with a slight tilt of your head and her jaw slacks.

“Why did I not think of that?” She mutters to herself as you both reach the front of the line and she orders herself a soft pretzel before looking over at you, “My treat, an apology.”

You aren’t one to reject free food when offered, so you look at the concession worker and say, “A Dr Pepper and another soft pretzel, please.” 

Gaeul pays and a worker in the back pulls out two warm pretzels as another grabs the familiar maroon bottle from a cooler. She starts speaking again the moment the food and drinks are in your hands.

“Food isn’t allowed on the field, but I already gave Jay a kiss before he went on the bus.” 

Her smile is suggestive, and you make a face that has her whining, “C’mon, I’ll hold your food while you go—“ She shimmies her shoulders and purses her lips into a kissy face that has you letting out a shrill ‘ew, stop!’

“That’s deplorable.” Your words contradict the laughter seeping into your speech, “I am not going down there.”

“Boring.” She groans, but her face brightens suddenly and she waves ahead. When you follow her gaze and find Mrs Nishimura approaching, you internally freak out until she smiles at you and you remember how lovely of a woman she is. 

A lovely woman who seems to zero in on the jersey you wear the moment she’s within arms reach, “Oh, don’t you look darling!”

She pulls you into a warm hug and you accept it keenly, “Thank you! Are Maki and Runa with you?”

Your question comes as she pulls away, keeping you at arms-length as she shakes her head, “No, they stayed home with their father, neither wanted to make the trip.”

The trip being about an hour long car ride to the other side of town, which is fair. Feels shorter when you’re driving, though. You got through SZA’s new album on the way, too.

The three of you make it to the bleachers, finding a spot to watch the game as the ref whistles and the teams start to huddle. The board reads:

STARSHIP ALIENS v. DECELIS DEMONS

You sporadically tear pieces off of your soft pretzel as your eyes follow Riki the entire game, catching his eye at multiple points and having to act like you don’t see he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face under that face-guard.

The Demon’s win 12-8 long past sunset, a chill nipping your nose and the empty paper your pretzel came in crumbled into a ball in your hand. Rin sends you the same look as the last game before retreating toward the parking lot.

The moment you step foot on the field after releasing Gaeul’s arm, Jake appears in your view with a big grin, “Didja see the weaving I did? I looked cool, right?”

You debate breaking it to the boy that you may have entirely forgotten he was even on the team, too focused on his teammate to even notice him.

“I don’t think she was watching you.” Heeseung appears with his helmet off and his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead. He moves to throw an arm around your shoulder and you quickly dodge with an ‘eugh’.

“You’re sweaty and you stink.” You grumble with a grimace on your face, and Heeseung seems ready to complain before he grins again at something behind you and a second later arms engulf you from behind. 

“You’re cute from the back too, pretty girl.” Riki muses into your ear, lifting you up held against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. 

“Riki, you sweaty bastard, let me go!” You whine, struggling against him as he lets your feet touch the ground again.

He giggles boyishly as he obeys, and as you turn to give him a piece of your mind you find the curses dying on your tongue at the grin on his face.

His smile is wide and unapologetically smug, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your chest feel like your heart is trying to claw its way out. His helmet dangles loosely in his hand now, his hair a damp mess but somehow still looking good.

“You can’t just pick people up like that,” you say, trying to sound annoyed but betraying yourself when your lips twitch upward. “It’s rude.”

He leans forward slightly, closing the gap between you as if he can’t keep himself away. “Oh? You didn’t like it?”

You roll your eyes, stepping back to put some space between you, but Riki matches your movement with an exaggerated pout, clearly enjoying himself. Before you can fire back with something probably aggressive or mean, another voice cuts in.

“Alright, Romeo, stop flirting and help us pack up,” Jungwon calls, dragging the duffel bags of gear toward the bus. He tosses a water bottle at Riki, who catches it without really looking.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” Riki says softly, his grin softening into something warmer that sends an entirely different kind of shiver through you. He leans down and kisses your cheek before jogging off to join his teammates. 

Holy fuck.

Your heart is racing in your chest like an old woman whose heart is about to give out, and your long sleeve undershirt is suddenly too damn hot. 

You barely manage to pull yourself together before Gaeul pops up next to you, a knowing smirk spread across her face as she loops her arm around yours. “He kissed you~,” she sing-songs, her tone just low enough not to draw attention, but her amusement is blatant.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, pressing a hand to your cheek like it’ll somehow stop the warmth there from spreading like the grin in your face. You hope the shadows cast by the stadium lights are enough to hide your flustered state.

Gaeul doesn’t let up as the two of you wander toward the edge of the field, her giggles like little daggers stabbing at your already tattered dignity. “He picked you up. And got touchy.”

“I’m aware,” You huff, “I experienced it.”

“I mean, I don’t think you get how big a deal this is,” she practically rambles, “Riki’s never been this…confident!”

“Oh?” You question with your brows furrowed slightly.

She nods with an eager hum, “Riki’s shy! At least he was when I first met him.” Everything up to this point hadn’t pointed you in that direction regarding Riki’s personality, too familiar with the smug smiles and nonchalance, “I mean, he’s like a different person now that you’re around.”

“That’s…good, right?” You question hesitantly, “I mean, he wasn’t weird or anything, right?”

Your voice must have failed to convey the jesting tone you intended because Gaeul quickly begins to backtrack as you approach the bus. Jungkook is at the driver's seat of the bus while some of the team boards it with their duffles hanging from their shoulders and others are loading the luggage compartment with gear, free of their shoulder pads and helmets. 

Even without the padding, Riki’s back is broad, jersey hanging off muscle. You can barely see Jake past him, who's on the other side of the compartment helping organize it. 

You forget about any questions on your tongue when the shorter male cheekily points out your approach from behind and he looks over his shoulder for you with the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

Beautiful bastard.

He wastes no time in loading the equipment bag in his hands into the compartment before stepping away from the bus, jogging toward you with that grin. Gaeul begins to pull away with a grin, but leans in to speak quietly enough for him to not hear, “I’ll give you guys a second.”

She shoots a wink at you as she and Riki pass each other, a soft snicker leaving you as she calls out happily for Jay, who’s just stepped off the bus.

Riki slows as he reaches you, his smile turning slightly sheepish now that it’s just the two of you. He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck, his other hand gripping the hem of his jersey. “You’re not mad about earlier, right?”

You ignore the fact his movements cause the jersey to ride up, revealing a sliver of his abdomen that makes you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“I haven’t decided yet.” You respond with a nonchalant shrug and a thoughtful tilt of your head. 

He chuckles softly, his hand dropping from his nape as he steps closer with the same magnetism as before, like he doesn’t want to be too far, “C’mon, I was happy you’re here.”

“And you just had to pick me up?”

His laugh is warm and full, the sound washing over you and melting away any annoyance you could have pretended to feel. “Yes.” he says with a nod, his eyes crinkling at the corners again as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

This time, you roll your eyes and half-fight the smile naturally growing on your face, “Fine, but that’s your first strike.”

His brows raise in curiosity, his grin turning to a smirk as he asks, “First strike? How many do I get?”

“Three. Duh.” You sass, and he seems to find that just as amusing as your very serious strike system, though you find it kinda hot that he didn’t question the logic behind it. (The answer: if Sheldon Cooper can have a strike system, so can you.)

“And what happens after three?” He asks, leaning closer with intrigue and that stupid smile.

“Let’s hope you never find out.” You retort, having an idea of what to say but not sure if ‘flogging’ is too far. (You know Belle would laugh, though.)

“Nishimura!” Jungkook barks from the open doors of the bus. The last of the team is filing onto the bus, probably eager to get home. “Stop lollygagging and get on the damn bus.”

You snort softly at the word choice, but find that you aren’t safe from the Coach’s annoyance, “You too, go home. Don’t make me tell them about Shadow.” 

The gasp that leaves your lips is one of pure betrayal. The audacity. The nerve. “You—”

He raises his brows in a ‘do it, i dare you’ way and your lips fall shut.

Riki is unable to move past the Shadow thing. “Shadow? Like the Hedgehog?”

“No, like my cat.” You snap sarcastically, “Get on that damn bus.”

Your gaze moves to the vehicle in question, and you find the eyes of the Decelis lacrosse team trained on you and Riki. Through an open window, you hear a voice you think is Kai’s saying, “I thought her cat’s name was Gus.”

“Baby, you have to tell me now.” He laughs breathlessly, like he’s not sure whether to let it out or keep it in for your sake.

“It will never leave my mouth, and I swore him—“ Your words shift from defiant to angry as your finger shoots out to point at the tattooed man impatiently waiting at the bus’ door, “—to secrecy!”

Your words are full of betrayal as you vehemently continue with your manicured finger still pointed, “You took the Unbreakable Vow!

“You were eight.” The Coach retorts. “You used a Crayola marker. It was pink.”

You want to argue, but hold yourself back for everyone’s sake as you look back at a heavily amused Riki and say, “Get on the bus.”

“I’m not letting this go.” He warns with pure joy on his face and a laugh in his voice as he begins to slowly walk back.

You simply shake your head and cross your arms defiantly, “I’m not gonna tell you.”

He only tilts his head with ‘really?’ look, too smug for his own good, the bastard. 

Jay and Gaeul appear, her lipgloss smudged on his lips and messy on her own. Jungkook notices them with a disgusted frown and chilling glare. Jay mutters a ‘sorry Coach’ after kissing Gaeul goodbye, and she happily begins to approach your side.

Riki takes the brief moment of time to circle back and ask you quickly, “Are you free tomorrow? Or tonight?” 

You blink, mindful of Gaeul’s approach but finding his impulsivity endearing, nodding instead of saying something you’ll cringe at later.

His grin stretches wide, lighting up his face like you’ve just made his entire night. “Cool. I’ll text you,” he says casually, though there’s a spark of excitement in his voice that betrays him. Before you can respond, he jogs back toward the bus, shooting you one last look over his shoulder as he climbs the steps.

Gaeul sidles up to you, her arm sliding through yours with practiced ease, the grin on her face telling you she heard the exchange, “Ready to go?”

You’re thankful she doesn’t tease you again, nodding as the both of you begin to walk toward the visitor parking. 

With your back turned, you don’t see one of the slightly ajar windows sliding open more, or the boy that pops his head out of it until he calls out, “Hey!”

You stop mid-step, glancing back over your shoulder to find Riki leaning halfway out the window, his hair messy and damp but looking entirely too perfect for someone who just played an entire game.

You raise a brow in silent question.

“You look good in my jersey!” he calls out, his tone playful but tinged with something softer—something that makes your heart skip.

Your cheeks heat instantly, and you can’t fight the smile breaking across your face. Gaeul snorts next to you, gripping your arm like she’s about to combust.

“I know!” you shout back, doing your best to sound casual, though the warmth in your voice betrays you.

His grin widens, impossibly charming, and he shoots you a two-fingered salute before disappearing back into the bus as the vehicle begins to roll away. Gaeul finally releases her pent-up laughter, practically bouncing on her toes.

“You know?” she echoes, mimicking your response and clutching her stomach. “Girl, you’re gonna kill him one day with that play.”

You start walking toward the parking lot again, tugging her along to keep her from lingering. “I wasn’t playing anything,” you say, though the warmth in your cheeks tells a different story. “I do look good in his jersey. That’s just reality.”

“Sure, sure,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into yours. “But you could’ve just said thank you. Or blushed. Like a normal person.”

“Showing that he affects me is embarrassing.” You grumble softly, “I’ll die before I boost a man’s ego like that.”

(Though, you did cry in front of him about how much you like him, so maybe that argument isn’t valid anymore.)

She cackles at that, nearly stumbling over her own feet as you reach your car. “But, seriously, I’ve never seen him like that. He’s so…” Her voice trails off as she unlocks her own car a few spaces down, but the twinkle in her eye says enough.

“So what?” you press, opening your car door but pausing before you get in.

Gaeul grins knowingly, pointing at you with her keys. “So gone for you.”

You spend the next minute acting like the thought of him being ‘gone’ for you, as Gaeul put it, doesn’t make you want to squeal into a pillow and kick your feet, and when the two of you part ways that feeling remains.

The hour drive home feels longer with Riki on your mind, but maybe it’s the fact you aren’t sure if seeing him again tonight is the best idea. 

Something you’ve realized about yourself since meeting Riki is that you suck at impulse control. You preach self-control yet the moment he’s around you—or even mentioned—you find yourself wanting to act on every impulse the chemicals in your brain fire.

When you get home, pulling into the garage as your parents were once again out of town, you read a text Riki had sent not ten minutes prior.

A beat passes before he responds and you huff in disbelief.

The response comes in the form of a phone call. His contact photo lights up your screen, and you huff softly in amusement before pressing the answer button and bringing it to your ear as you get out of your car, “Yes?”

“Both?” His voice comes through, playful yet tinged with something warmer. You can hear the muffled chatter of his teammates in the background, he must not be home yet. “You’re really not making this easy for me, you know.”

“You asked,” you counter with a soft laugh, locking your car and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I just gave you the answer.”

“Yeah? Which door should I be knocking on? Front or back?”

“You’re not seriously coming tonight, stupid,” you say, though the idea isn’t unappealing. You reach the door, cursing softly at how loud the garage is as it closes. Your hand wraps around the door handle.

“Why not?”

“Riki,” you start with a laugh, entering your home and flipping on the light.

“What? You said both,” he teases. You can hear the grin in his voice, and you roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Besides, Coach is gonna drop us off at the field to grab our cars anyway. It’s not like I’m going out of my way or anything.”

You hesitate, caught between the thrill of seeing him tonight and the logic of how tired he must be after the game. “Are you sure you don't wanna go to bed?”

“Not really,” he says softly, a bit more serious now, warm. “I’d rather see you.”

Your stomach flips, the sincerity in his voice knocking the wind out of you. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he shoots back, but there’s a gentleness there that makes you smile despite yourself.

“You better shower before you get here,” You say after a beat, and you swear you hear a whispered ‘yes’ before adding, “Don’t need your stench stinking up my house.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles on the other end, a sound that comes through your phone beautifully. “Just don’t fall asleep before I get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, just text me when you’re on the way.” You walk toward the kitchen, dropping your purse on the counter and unzipping it to grab the eyedrops as you say, “Also, do you have a curfew?”

“Why? You tryna keep me for longer, pretty girl?” His teasing words are unfortunately true, but you refuse to admit it.

“Well, it’s already almost 10:00.” You dodge his question as you unscrew the tiny bottle in your hands, “I didn’t know if your mom would want you home sooner rather than later.”

“Nah, she’s fine with it.” He assures you, and then a beat passes and he asks, “What about yours?”

“They’re out of town, so it doesn't really matter.” You shrug, “So to answer your question, the front door is fine.”

You hear shuffling on the other end, a car door opening and closing, “So, you don’t mind if I stay a while?”

You can hear the smile in his words, and with a bite of your nail you say, “I’ll kick you out when I get sick of you.”

He laughs softly on the other end, “I’ll stay till you kick me out, then.”

You exchange a few more words before he hangs up to drive, and you have a window of time to panic(and clean up). 

After a five minute debate with yourself about taking off or keeping on your makeup, you decide the former is the better option with how late it is and your track record of falling asleep without doing so. 

(You also make a promise to yourself that if you fall asleep in front of Riki, death is the only option.)

So, when you get the text that he's arrived and you open the door with a bare face, you half-expect him to comment on it. You had FaceTimed him late enough for the boy to bear witness to your nighttime routine on multiple occasions, but he’d never shown any reaction to it.

The only reaction you get is the same boyish smile as always, the warmth behind his eyes making your heart lurch in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets softly, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he steps inside. He smells like some mélange of citrus and musk, his body wash and cologne you assume, and it makes your head feel funny.

“Hey.” You respond with a light huff of amusement as you step aside for him to enter, closing the door behind him, “I see you showered.”

His damp hair covers his forehead, the same messy style he has everytime he takes off his helmet and sweat saturates each lock, yet a bit frizzy like he towel-dried it before he left.

He chuckles, head shaking lightly in amusement as he lets you lead him toward the kitchen, “I listen.”

His words are playfully defensive, the boyish smile on his face and the way he cranes his neck slightly makes you laugh, “You better.” He hums, dropping himself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island, eyes flickering over the space as you move to grab yourself a drink. “You want anything?” 

“Whatever you have.” He shrugs, so you grab two Dr Pepper cans from the fridge and move back to the island.

Riki watches you pull two straws from the drawer in amusement, his elbows on the counter as you pop open the cans with practiced ease and an unhurried leisure. You catch his eyes with a raise of your brow that has him smirking slightly and saying, “Just watchin’.”

“I’d prefer you didn't stare.”

“Can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes at him, but put the straw in and hold the can out toward him anyway. When he takes it with that almost besotted  look in his eyes and his fingers brush yours, you find yourself turning away from him the moment it’s out of your hand, “Are you hungry?” 

Riki shakes his head, tapping his fingers against the can before taking a sip. “Nah, we stopped for food after the game.”

You nod, opening the pantry to browse and distract yourself, but it does nothing to drown out the weight of his gaze. This was a horrible idea. When you glance at him, he’s still watching you, straw between his lips, eyes holding something unreadable.

“Stop it.”

Riki obediently averts his gaze, turning in his stool until he’s no longer facing you—though he playfully overachieves, turning his back to you completely. You can’t help but poorly conceal a laugh at his actions, which prompts him to look back over his shoulder for your smile.

You act like you don’t catch the way his gaze follows you, ignoring the way it forms a knot in your gut. “C’mon, let’s sit in the living room.”

He follows without hesitation, the soft thud of his socks against the floor trailing after you. You settle into the couch, tucking your legs beneath you, and he drops down beside you like he belongs there.

He does it so easily—makes himself at home in your space, in your presence. It should annoy you. Maybe it does, but not for the reasons you wish it did.

Riki sets his drink on the coffee table, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. He doesn’t touch you, but he could. If you shifted even slightly, if he reached just a little further.

You pretend not to notice.

You scroll through the options absentmindedly, hyperaware of Riki’s presence beside you—the way his fingers drum idly against the couch cushion, the way his head tilts slightly in your direction when you stop on a show.

“This good?” You ask, your voice quieter than intended.

“Yeah,” he says softly. You get the feeling he doesn’t really care what’s on.

You settle into the silence, the soft hum of the TV filling the space between you. For a moment, it’s almost comfortable, normal. But the stillness makes your mind race, and it’s impossible not to notice how close he is. You shift slightly, your side brushing against his as you settle deeper into the cushions, and the air feels thicker somehow, heavier.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes fixed on the screen, but there’s a subtle tension in his posture that wasn’t there before. His shoulders are a little tighter, his jaw a little more set, like he’s holding something back.

Like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, Gus appears around the corner with a sweet trill and takes the attention of both of you away from the movie(and each other).

Riki perks up immediately, his gaze shifting from the screen to the small ball of fur trotting toward the couch. “Oh, hey, buddy,” he greets softly, leaning forward slightly as Gus hops onto the cushions with practiced ease.

You watch with amusement as he settles in Riki’s lap, loafing contentedly and blinking slowly at you from his spot. Unable to bear it, you shift slightly closer to the boy beside you to reach your cat more comfortably, muttering a soft and fond, “Traitor.”

The midfielder laughs softly, ringed fingers gently scratching the tomcat on his head near your own, “He loves me.”

“He’s a lovey cat.” You retort, and though your words are true, you’ve never seen him lay in anyone’s lap this fast, much less a boy. He was never too fond of Eunseok, and doesn’t really care much for Jongseob, yet seeks out affection from Riki every time he comes over. “He likes warm laps.”

“Maybe he just has good taste.”

“Or maybe he’s a cat.” You retort, shifting again in your seat to make sure you’re not too close. He comments this time.

“Am I making you nervous?” He asks teasingly, voice low. 

“Excuse me?” You ask with a judgemental confusion on your face.

He seems undeterred, only motivated by the tone you give him, “You keep fidgeting, baby.”

“What did I say about calling me that?” You lightly smack his side, and he winces playfully.

“My bad,” he concedes, hands lifting from Gus momentarily in mock-surrender, “it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t lie.”

He chuckles, “It’ll happen again.”

A noise begins to play from the other room, and Gus immediately launches himself from Riki’s lap to run off. You laugh softly at Riki’s slight pout, the boy dramatically reaching after the feline longingly, “That was his automatic feeder.”

“Damn.” He sighs, his hands falling back to his sides on the sofa. The tip of his thumb brushes your knee accidentally, and the tension in the air shifts once more.

Both of you seem to zero in on the simple contact, accidental and barely-there yet electric in a way you’d never experienced such minute touches. The tip of his thumb turns into the pad of it, a gentle tracing of circular patterns on your knee. Then, his knuckles join, as if testing the waters.

When you glance at him he's already looking at you, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something intense that makes your stomach flip and your chest explode with warmth. Like an itch, one you know how to quell but the side of your brain dealing with critical thinking tells you it’s probably a bad idea.

His palm flattening against your knee is enough for you to disregard the advice of your logical brain and act on the only impulse your brain can fire at the moment. 

Riki’s other hand moves to your cheek when you’re close enough, long fingers tangling into the hair behind your ear as his thumb brushes your cheekbone. His head tilts to the side, nose brushing yours as he shakes it lightly. He doesn’t use the hand on your cheek to push you away or tease you further, any playfulness gone and replaced by a warmth and desire that makes your chest fill with butterflies. 

Your breaths mix, the sound of the TV drowned out by the sheer madness of him. He looks like the last thing he wants to do is pull away, like it’s a struggle to not close the short distance between your lips and his—to not cross any lines. Then, his forehead presses to yours gently and he says, “We don’t have to. I can wait.” 

His words are soft, nearly whispered, yet his deep voice makes them heavier on your gut than you’d ever admit. You find yourself speaking in a mirrored tone, “I don’t want you to wait anymore.” 

His eyes widen just slightly, and his lips part, just barely, his gaze dropping to your mouth. His thumb continues its delicate path across your cheekbone, his fingers flexing in your hair as if anchoring himself to this moment. You can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the proximity making your heart race.

“I want you to know,” he begins, his voice a low rumble, “I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said about waiting…I won’t rush you.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, his words a tender weight against your chest. But it doesn’t change what you’re feeling now or how close he is. How easy it would be to just close the gap and kiss him, to let all the tension and uncertainty dissolve with the space between your lips.

“I know.” You say with a slight smile.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your lips find his in a soft and brief kiss. 

Riki’s intentions seem to differ from your own as you move to pull away, the hand on your cheek sliding into your hair as his lips chase yours to pull you back in. There’s no hesitation behind it like before, his lips moving against yours with a building urgency that you can’t help but reciprocate.

You gasp softly against his mouth when the hand on your knee glides up your thigh, fingers pressing into skin and pulling you closer almost desperately. He tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss, a low sound from his chest setting your blood aflame as you maneuver into his lap.

His hands move as your knees settle on either side of his hips, warm palms splaying over the curve of your waist and fingers digging into flesh to feel you as close as possible. It’s too much, yet somehow not enough.

Your fingers thread into his slightly damp hair, another deep sound escaping his intoxicating lips that has your stomach flipping. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips brushing yours again and again, each kiss deeper than the last. You can feel the way his heart beats beneath your palm, just as fast as yours, and it makes something tighten in your chest.

Riki tilts his head slightly, his nose brushing against your cheek as he exhales softly, his grip on your waist shifting as his hands trail up your spine. He pulls you impossibly closer, a restrained urgency in the way he holds you. He's patient—always—but there's something in the way his fingers press into your skin, in the way his lips part just enough for his breath to mix with yours, that tells you he's feeling this just as intensely as you are.

Pulling away feels like the worst idea in the world, but your lungs ache and something in the back of your mind tells you this is all too soon, too fast. The sound that the disconnect of your lips with Riki’s makes sends a thrill up your spine that the look in his eyes only exacerbates.

His forehead is warm against your own as your breaths mix and his hands slide back down to your waist. His lips ghost yours as you pant softly against him, his head tilting and his nose brushing over your cheek as his lips find the skin there, then your jaw, and your pulse point. You can feel the chastity of his kisses, the type that’s so gentle you’re not sure if you actually felt his lips on you or you just want them there enough to trick your mind into believing it.

“God, pretty girl.” He sighs, burying his nose into your neck to stop himself from kissing you more.

“Riki,” you murmur, unsure of what you want to say, only knowing that you don’t want him to move away just yet.

He hums against your skin, his breath warm, sending a shiver down your spine. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then exhale softly. “Nothing.”

He chuckles, low and knowing, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, but there’s something tender in the way they study you, like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.

His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your waist, his touch light, reverent. “You good?”

You nod, though your heart is hammering in your chest. “Are you?”

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering, then grins—small and lopsided. “Yeah.”

His gaze drops to your lips again, lingering for a beat too long before he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I should go before I do something stupid.”

The admission has your stomach flipping once more, but you find yourself huffing softly in amusement, “Yeah, you should.”

The moment your hands move to his shoulders and you attempt to dismount his lap, his arms wrap around your waist and his nose returns to its home buried in your neck, “Mmm, in a minute.” 

A laugh escapes you, breathy and light, as your fingers absentmindedly trace the line of his shoulder blades. “You just said you should go.”

“I should,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. “Doesn’t mean I want to.”

You hum softly, deciding against teasing him and instead settling into the security of his embrace. You feel him smile against your skin, slowly pulling his face from the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Then, his hands move, one sliding up your spine while the other lifts to cup your jaw, and he kisses your cheek. Soft. Chaste.

“Okay,” he murmurs, still so close. “Now I’ll go.”

You don’t stop him this time when he loosens his hold, when he gently shifts you off his lap. You don’t say anything as he stands, raking a hand through his already-messy hair(courtesy of your hands, of course), or when he stretches and his hoodie rides up. When he looks down at you, you almost shrink under his gaze before he smiles that warm way you love and he leans forward to grab your hand in his.

You let his fingers slide between your own, your eyes on him as he tugs you gently and prompts you to get off the couch to step closer to him with a soft huff of amusement, “I thought you were going?”

His hand in yours slips out in favor of joining the other on either side of your jaw, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks fondly as he mirthfully smirks down at you. You have no choice but to tilt your head back to look at him at this proximity, and he doesn’t seem all that eager to widen it.

“I am.” His muttered confirmation is contradicted by the way his lips find yours again, soft yet eager, no longer hesitant to join them as often as he’d like with your prior statement. When he pulls away and you chase his kiss, he hums with amusement in his grin, nose nudging yours. “How am I supposed to leave if you keep making me want to kiss you, huh?”

“I didn’t even do anything.” You defend yourself with a soft laugh.

“Mm, you don’t have to.” He groans softly, eyes shutting as he presses his forehead to yours and sighs, “You’re mine now, right?”

The bluntness of his question has your heart skipping but you hum as if apprehensive, “Maybe. You didn’t ask.”

His eyes open and he looks at you with playful disbelief and a whole lot of amusement, “You want me to ask you out, pretty girl?”

“I never said that,” You retort reflexively, ignoring the way his eyebrows quirk up in challenge and entertainment, “But I might be yours if you ask nicely.”

“Nicely. Right….” He nods in mock understanding, and when he leans in to kiss you again, you meet him halfway. “Will you…” He starts with his voice soft and deep in all the best ways as he pulls away between kisses to continue, “be…my girl?”

He pulls away just enough to see your face as you recover from the dizzying way his lips find yours, and your words are softer than you intended as you breathlessly reply, “I’ll have to think about it.”

His shoulders shake with soft laughter as he shakes his head and mutters, “shut up,” under his breath before he closes the distance once more.

𝒇𝒊𝒏.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[gothghostiie]

had brain worms and shared them with @pricegotmedickmatized last night and she fed into it and gave me ideas so now have to write for I am plagued by the demons

cw: age gap (20s/40s), some size difference, risky place, crying, fingering, orgasm denial(kinda), price talks about fisting, price is a pervert, reader is a virgin, fem!afab!reader

Its been a few years since Price had retired. some stupid injury, something with his knee that he didnt listen to when the doctor explained it to him - probably what got him to the point of being discharged in the first place. he does insist that he's fine, he could still work perfectly; he wants to feel useful still, like he's contributing to society in some way at least. it's been something he's had set in his head ever since his first divorce - he wasn't even contributing a family, so it had to be work until he found someone to carry his babies once again. but until then, he likes to help out the old couple next door.

they're sweet people, one of these couples that's still truly in love despite being married for longer than he's been on this planet, still saying I love you with a goodnight kiss. it's his dream to be like that with someone, once he finds someone as sweet as that cold couple he's gonna lock them down, sink his fangs into their neck and never let go again. his age is catching up and he's getting worried, nervous almost. he even tried dating apps but that was horrid - either the people don't text back or he goes on a few dates and ends up scaring them away. who can blame them when he asks how many kids they want on the third date? john sure blames them. it's not his fault that he's the way he is. it's not his fault that he's desperate to have a sweet thing to call his own again. to love and care about, to dote on and kiss all over, to fuck to sleep every night and every morning. it's really not his fault. really.

He's laid under the kitchen sink, flashlight propped up next to him as he's fixing a dripping pipe for them. the granny already had brought him lemonade and some cookies, watching with a soft sigh of relief when price comes up and gives her a warm smile with a thumbs up. "all fixed, love." he tells her, she beams. pats him on the arm and tells him what a good job he did, how thankful she is. sometimes he thinks the two of them just like having him around and don't actually need anything. but its whatever, he doesnt mind. especially not if theres cookies in it for him.

he's washing his hands when the front door opens. it just opens, no knocking, no doorbell. he turns his head in confusion, curious to see who's keys are jingling like that. his eyes light up when he sees you walk in with two bags of groceries; everything about you is perfect. your hair, your eyes, your lips that curve into a perfect little smile when the old lady greets you, the sundress and matching cardigan (he wonders if its handmade), the way you fill it out so perfectly, little earrings youre wearing - its perfect. youre perfect.

"Sweetie," she says with an almost excited tone, "this is John. hes the nice young man thats been helping us around the house, i told you about him." Price blushes a bit and reaches his hand out to you, you put your hand into his after putting the bags down, introducing yourself with a shy smile. "shes our granddaughter." your grandma adds proudly, she loves gushing about you. "shes such a sweet, nice girl, always bringing us what we need and helping keep things clean around here. smart as a whip too!" your face heats up, john chuckles.

"charmed.." he says in a low hum, giving you a wink. you look so innocent, so sweet and shy, it's almost too good. your grandma pats you on the arm and goes back to the living room where your grandpa sits, waiting for her to come watch their show with him, leaving the two of you alone. John sits down on one the chairs, arms crossed as he watches you fuss around the kitchen to put away the groceries. he watches you closely, the slight sway in your hips, the little bounce of your tits, the way your dress rides up your thighs when you put things into the upper cabinets - and all he can imagine is sitting you up on the counter, folding you in half and putting a baby into you. he just knows you'd look so good, fat and round with his baby. he knows he'll have to prove it too.

watches you put the rest of the groceries into the fridge right next to him, that's when he pounces. leans over and slips his big, calloused hand under your dress - before you can even react to the fabric being lifted he's already got his hand on your pussy, cupping it with a firm squeeze. It makes you gasp, your knees buckle slightly, one hand gripping the fridge tightly as your mouth falls open. you want to say something, to tell him to get his dirty hands off of you - but his finger find your clit through the fabric and presses down slightly, his palm pressing against your lips more firmly. his touch isn't like what you're used to; the boys your age have always touched you so differently. they were always too fast, trying to get what they want too quick, touching you like they're just guessing what they're doing or not even paying attention - it's the reason you never let any of them get any further than your panties.

but John?

John's touch is different. his touch feels good. it feels secure, like he knows what he's doing, like he knows just how to touch you, like he's confident you'll like what hes doing. the mere way he touches you makes your brain melt, makes your pussy wet. he chuckles softly, rubbing small circles on your nub as he speaks quietly. "feels good, doesnt it?" he muses, squeezing your cunt a bit tighter - enough to make you snap out of your trance and push your hips back against him. the subtle movement makes him laugh, shaking his head. "thought so.." his fingers work you gently, slowly, agonisingly. you're not one to just take what you want, but maybe just this once?

you push your hips back more, just for him to pull away a bit, easing up the friction; and it makes you whine in frustration - loudly. you don't know what's gotten into you, you don't know why his touch makes you so wet, so loud, so desperate. desperate enough to forget your grandparents are in the next room over, to forget to keep quiet. lucky for you, John is here to think for you right now. he quickly pulls his hand away and stands up, muffling your protest with a strong hand clasping over your mouth. your eyes widen as you feel him shut you up, as you feel his big, burly body press against your back, his hips agaisnt your lower back. "shh.. 's alright, honey.." his other hand finds purchase on your hip, starting to pull up the fabric of your dress once again. "sorry doll. gotta get a good look at the goods before I buy them. you'll let me, won't you?" he chuckles as you squirm. "I'll make it worth your while, don't you worry."

his hand slips from your hip to your pussy once again, this time from the front. fingers graze the damp fabric of your underwear, making him chuckle. "jesus.. these are soaked." he shakes his head, pressing down briefly before hooking his fingers into the sticky fabric, pulling it aside. he watches closely, putting his chin down on your shoulder for quick access to the soft skin of your neck. he watches himself free your cunt and groans at the sight.

Your untouched little pussy. She's gorgeous, slightly swollen and wet, eager for his touch. "look at her.. she's so wet.." he grins, fingers dipping between your lips and immediately coating in your slick. "shes all wet." he murmurs, rubbing back and forth slowly, getting a good feel for her. your clit twitches almost in excitement, your tight hole clenching despite him not evening touching it yet, your sweet slick spreading and making it easy for him to slip two fingers inside you with a soft grunt. your eyes widen, body tensing slightly, a whimper gets muffled by his hand on your mouth. "Fucking hell.." he mutters softly, curling his fingers against your sweet spot - you immediately become putty in his arms. it's a foreign feeling, it feels so different from your own, much smaller fingers. his fingers are long and thick, two of them already slightly stretching you out, making your eyes roll back in your head with the precision of his movements.

"you should go help them, Sweetie."

"what a pretty girl.." he croons, making your face heat up - but he's not talking to you. he's talking to your pussy. "she's bloody tight too.." he mutters quietly, his voice strained with a mild effort. marvels at the way it flutters and twitches around his fingers. "you been neglecting her? not giving her what she needs?" he scoffs softly, a weird sense of guilt washes over you, you don't quite understand it. "poor thing.. needs someone else to take care of her.." he slips another finger in, making you gasp, the stretch burning slightly. It makes tears prick at your eyes. "look at how tight she is, I'm only three fingers in.." he scoffs softly, his wrist jerking upwards. "how's she supposed to take my cock, huh?" the words make your eyes widen. "gonna have to get her ready..."

his palm presses against your clit, rubbing it with every little movement his hand makes, with every little twitch of your hips - with every desperate try to ride his fingers even just a bit. his teeth find your neck and bite at it gently, not even leaving a mark, just enough to make you flinch at it - god he's enjoying this. the boner pressing against your back is more than enough proof that he is, if the way he was panting into you didn't already tell you everything you need to know. but he doesn't stop there. of course he doesn't. another thick finger squeezes it's way inside your poor, full pussy, stretching you more than you thought just one finger more could. a wave of slight pain curses through you, the burn holding on as you clench around his fingers that only use your own arousal as lube. a few stray tears start running down your cheeks.

"Have to work her open.." he whispers against your skin, leaning his hear up to kiss the tears away. his fingers wiggle slowly, like he's done this a thousand times and knows how it's done, like its muscle memory to work a tight cunt open for him. "gonna have to feed her my whole hand just so she can take my cock.." the thought makes your stomach tighten. you've never had anything that big inside you, hell, you've never even thought about something that big inside you. a slight fear curses through your body, making you tense up, he chuckles. his hand presses onto your mouth harder, the thumb rubbing your skin soothingly as he pushes his fingers upwards; making your body jolt with a cry. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

despite yourself you nod. you nod and whimper, your hips moving as if they have a mind of their own, trying to fuck yourself on his thick fingers. even when you feel his thumb graze your stretched hole, the fear gets eaten up by the promise of pleasure that you know will ruin you for ever, for any other man that may get his hands on you.

"good girl.." he croons - and then let's go. he steps back and sits back down in the chair, reaching over to pull your dress down. you look shocked, frozen for a moment, mouth hanging open as your pussy gets left gaping and empty, dripping down your trembling thighs. you turn around to yell at him, scream at him, hit him - but just as you do your grandpa enters the kitchen with a smile, non the wiser.

"Sweetie, could you come help your grandma and me with the TV?" he asks. you nod. its all you can do. your grandpa nods in acknowledgement and walks to the living room, expecting you to follow. you glance back at price - and he just sits there, hiding his smile behind the same hand that's just been inside you, winking at you.

[be-xkyy]

Ok I can't stop thinking about a farmer x a city girl.

Tw: Yandere,smut, forced breeding, noncon.

Masterlist

She who is a city girl who studies in a good university, has a nice car, a nice house and a bright future.

She who goes to the countryside every year because her grandfather lives there and she takes advantage of her vacations to go see her favorite grandfather.

She who during one of those visits and when she is on the porch meets the sexy farmer who helps her grandfather with what he needs, she who stays looking at him longer than necessary, absorbing his firm figure and admiring his muscular forearms visible thanks to the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt that accentuate his sun-tanned skin, his serious brown eyes with long eyelashes and his sexy jaw covered by a short beard...

She who wakes up from her daydream when he says in a thick and firm voice to get out of the way because she is blocking his way and only then she notices the shopping bags in his big hands so she moves awkwardly letting him enter the house.

She who walks into the house while she can't help but think he's a grumpy, rude jerk, she who walks into the kitchen and sees the man leaving the bags on the counter while he talks to his grandfather who smiles when he sees her and formally introduces them.

She who greets him with a sullen nod still offended by his previous attitude while he greets her back in kind while the grandfather rambles on about his favorite granddaughter and how you're so cute, smart and extraordinary... she who notices him silently scoffing at the words of his grandfather who says he'll happily go get the album with your photos from when you were a baby.

She who when they're alone asks him in an annoyed voice what's so funny only for him to reply in a mocking voice something like "I don't think it's very smart to come to the countryside in heels and those clothes... rather I think it's something extraordinarily stupid."

She who gets annoyed by his mocking tone and his sneering look at her shorts and tank top, and she tells him that this is a free country and he can wear whatever he wants and if he doesn't like it he can tear his eyes out.

She who gets even more annoyed when he laughs as he puts the last of his canned soup away in the cupboard, and puts the plastic bags away in a drawer, then approaches her and says in a mocking voice "Why tear my eyes out when I can do something much better... like tear your clothes off?"

She who doesn't know how she ended up pinned face down on the kitchen counter with her shorts and panties caught around her ankles as his fat cock abuses her wet, rubbery pussy, her walls sucking and sucking his cock as if they wanted to get him deeper while one of his calloused hands covers her mouth tightly preventing her moans from escaping.

She who rolls her eyes when he uses his free hand to tightly grab a handful of her hair tilting her head back and sending waves of pain and pleasure to her swollen pussy as he makes her teary eyes look into his dilated eyes.

She who whimpers sharply into his hand as he thrusts hard into her and gets close to her ear and says things like "Such a good girl, just one good fuck was all it took to get rid of your attitude huh?" or "Let daddy turn you into an honest girl, what are those slutty clothes you wear? No. There won't be any more of that for you."

She feels her body shake and her toes tense as his cock hits that spot inside her over and over again making her see stars and causing her orgasm to wash over her and her pussy to tighten around his cock and he growls at the delicious sensation moving his hips harder chasing her orgasm before giving a few more thrusts and staying still deep inside her flooding her insides with his warm semen while she stays limp on the cold counter so fucked that she can't think about anything not even the fact that she's not taking birth control.

The one who can't help but squeeze you with his weight, his chest on your back while his fingers move a strand of hair stuck to your sweaty forehead and whispers in your ear with a dark voice that shivers "You know it's time to settle down, I'm not getting any younger and I want to have at least 8 children, but don't worry honey we have plenty of time to do it... after all you're not going anywhere."

[curseofaphrodite]

Heartbreak Protection Squad

REMUS LUPIN X FEM!READER

; where your tutor Moony goes batshit chaotic at the possibility of Sirius Black liking you.

The study session at the astronomy tower never happened, and you had fallen asleep waiting for Remus. Late to class and pissed off, you hardly flinched when you saw the dark-haired man rummaging through your bag.

"Are you stealing my chocolates?" You asked in surprise.

"Good morning, love," the man, who you now recognized as Sirius Black, sounded hardly apologetic. "Remus told me you always bring your muggle snacks bag for studying. It's the only reason I'd drag my arse all the way here as his bloody messenger."

You blinked.

Your assigned tutor's assortment of friends always caught you by surprise, especially since Remus Lupin did not look like an extrovert. He was smart, sweet, and shy, but his friends shared no qualities with him or among themselves. For example — the popular Quidditch captain James, the silent Peter, and the Hogwarts heartthrob Sirius Black — who just so happened to be staring right at you.

"Did you want this back?" he asked in confusion, handing the half-eaten Mars bar to you.

"No, you can have it," you said plainly, standing up. "And I don't want to hear his stupid apology."

"Remus warned me you'd be mad." Sirius sighed. "He couldn't come last night Y/N, he wasn't standing you up."

"What, you had a date with him and he lost track of time?"

A choking sound.

"I take that as a no?" You frowned.

"I am not fucking Remus, please!" Sirius was shocked. "Though if I'm being honest, he could use a good shag."

"Too much information, Black. Tell me this, why is Remus not here apologizing? Unless..." You knotted your hands together and stared him down. "Is he at the hospital wing again?"

If Sirius looked taken aback, he didn't show it. "Why would you say that?"

"Cause almost every month, you stupid idiots run around doing pranks that get him to the hospital wing! It's not that uncommon."

"Woah, woah, he has never been injured 'cause of us. We'd never do anything that would put Moony in danger."

"Why's he there then?"

Sirius threw his hands up in frustration. "I never said he was."

You threw your bag over your shoulder, and marched right into him, only stopping when he was an inch away. Your glare sent a chill down his spine.

"You tell Lupin that I'd rather fail my exams than wait for him for anything again. I don't want to see him or his stupid friends, including you."

And with that, you were off to Minerva's class, ready to be yelled at for being late.

-

"How did it go?" Remus asked when Sirius waltzed back in hospital wing. The bruises were almost healed thanks to Madam Pomfrey's blueseed oil, but he still felt knocked out. Apparently, Wolf Remus took last night to be an adventure more so than usual.

"Couldn't even begin to tell her any excuse," he said, grinning wide. "She's fierier than you said. I love her."

"You what?!"

"Do you want some chocolate? I nicked some."

Remus blinked, then threw his head back into the pillow, wishing a brick would take him out right then and there.

-

Sirius liked Y/N? That was just a phrase. He didn't mean anything by it. Or did he?

Questions like this flew through Remus's head throughout the first two hours of class, where he would look at you sitting a few seats away, then at Sirius. It was confusing really, but Remus felt a pang of annoyance every time the former laughed too loud or cracked a joke, all of which he usually does.

Out of everyone who could have liked Y/N, why did it have to be him? With his perfect smile and flirting, girls adored him. And all of them regretted it a month or two after, because that's when their relationship usually ends. Sirius wasn't a player, he had far too much heart to ever be one — but he never finds the right person to date. It goes from a Slytherin who's a bit too mean, Quidditch players too dedicated to the game, or one of the many admirers who only liked him for his popularity.

Sirius Black broke their heart one by one, and Remus knew you weren't going to be different.

In short, you can never date him, Remus decided firmly. He knew you were capable of dealing with these things, but he was just starting to get close to you, and what kind of tutor would he be if his best friend broke your heart? Wouldn't you hate him?

I'm such a good friend, he thought to himself, oblivious as ever.

-

Remus found you next to the Black Lake that afternoon. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you were alone, and he sprinted over before you could disappear.

"Go away Remus," you said, hardly taking your eyes up from the book you were reading.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I had other plans and I should have told you. It slipped my mind, I swear," he began blabbering.

You sighed. "Because of you, I got an 3 out of 25 on my test and McGonagall took off points from Gryffindor for being late."

"She does that with everyone! I forgive you on behalf of all Gryffindors." His words were so fast that they were a blur. If you forgive me first, of course. I'm truly, terribly, incredibly sorry, Y/N."

You finally met his gaze, and your heart did a little flutter at how soft he looked at you right then.

"You look bruised again, Lupin."

"No!" He whined, snatching the book from you when you looked back down again. You let out a cry of protest. "Don't make us go back to last-name basis again! I love having you as my friend!"

Remus cringed at how cheesy that sounded, and he regretted ever opening his mouth, but the crease between your forehead had finally cleared out. You were almost holding back a smile.

"The girl you hang out with, Sarah? Is she seeing anyone?" he asked, before he could lose his confidence.

You were caught off guard.

"Uhm, no? Why, do you like her?" you asked, trying to keep that hint of bitterness at bay.

"What no, James likes her," Remus said plainly. He wasn't meeting your eyes, like he was lying. Or hiding something.

"Sarah and James?"

"You don't think it'll work out?"

"No, it might but—"

"And, I want to apologize if Sirius was making you uncomfortable in the morning." He was watching you closely now, hardly blinking.

"Uncomfortable?"

"He's very flirty with everyone he sees."

"Oh," you furrowed your eyebrows. "Well, he didn't say anything that crossed the line. He was quite nice to me, don't worry."

"Nice?" Remus sat up straighter. His plan to be cautious went right out the window. "Do you like him then?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's alright if you do. Everyone does! I sometimes think he wouldn't have gotten so many Exceeds Expectations if he didn't give the professors compliments all the time."

"Wait—"

"You like him, don't you?"

"I didn't know this was an interrogation!" you said, putting the book down. "Now that I think about it, James would never go after Sarah, not as long as Lily is alive and breathing."

"Look, it's none of my business." His eyebrows scrunched up in a cute frown. "Actually, it is. Sirius is my best friend and he would fuck a troll if he could get the chance—"

You stood up, eyes flaring. "You did not just compare me to a troll!"

Remus looked alarmed. "Of course I didn't! I just meant I should know if my best friend was eating your—"

He couldn't finish his sentence because you had already aguamenti-ed water on his face. It got into his mouth and he was busy coughing it out to notice you were leaving.

"Asshole." You said under your breath.

"Chocolates!" He yelled, but to no avail. "I meant eating your chocolates Y/N, for fuck's sake!"

-

Remus had an entire day to himself to realize just how much he fucked up. But the nail in the coffin came about half past six, when James found him in library.

"Don't forget about Padfoot's surprise party tonight!" he said, easing his hand around Remus's shoulders. "I'm not sure if it's still a surprise when he's already deciding what to wear though."

"Ah yes, the party for his birthday that's almost a month away." Remus sounded bitter, then instantly felt bad about it. Sirius was one of his best friends, and he wasn't about to be sour on his birthday party just because of a girl.

"Okay, what's this about?" James asked, catching on.

"No, it's not Sirius- I have to sort some shit with Y/N and it's been bothering me." Remus confessed, sighing.

"Girl trouble," he tsk-ed. "It doesn't matter, you'll definitely see her at his party."

Remus stopped fidgeting with his pages. "Why're you so sure?"

"I saw him personally invite her. Only Sirius Black could be this loud about his own surprise party."

"Why is he suddenly interested in Y/N? Why does it matter to him if she's there?"

"Woah, woah," James looked at him closely. "Are you jealous?"

Remus paled under his friend's gaze. Jealous? Him?

"I don't think Sirius likes her," He continued matter-of-factly. "And even if he does, he'll never go after someone you like. Just tell him if you do."

Do I like Y/N L/N?

"Is there booze at the party?" Remus asked, giving up on his intricate thoughts.

"Is it a party if there isn't?"

"Then I'm definitely there."

James smiled. He didn't know what was going on with his friend, but he certainly didn't mind his sudden party-going spirit.

-

Gryffindor tower looked ten times crowded than usual. It seemed like the whole of Hogwarts had known the password to their dorm (which just for tonight, Fat Lady had agreed on "Sirius Black's Long Luscious Hair"), and the decorations brightened the place up even more.

Remus made his way further inside with James. He loved how the place looked so muggle-like, with muggle rock music and cheap beer all around, but he could hardly find James walking in front of him, let alone you.

"MOONY!" Sirius appeared at his shoulder, holding out a drink. He had no shirt on, something all the girls and a few guys were eyeing — like he had cheesecake plastered over his abs. "You're here!"

Someone accidentally knocked the drink Sirius was holding out, and it splashed all over Remus's sweater. Something in him suddenly got very angry, and the sticky liquor down his body didn't help the cause. You could have anyone he wanted. How dare you make a move on Y/N without clearing it with me first? You're supposed to be my best friend!

"Where is she?" he asked, eyes blazing.

"Which she?" Sirius asked in return, winking.

Remus Lupin snapped.

Before knowing what he was doing, he shrieked, a sound so loud everyone could hear it over the music — and he pounced.

A very confused Sirius fell to the ground with his friend on top of him. Remus didn't know any fighting techniques, nor did he want to hurt his friend, but he had to take the frustration out somehow. He took off his jacket and started slapping Sirius's chest with it.

"Owh, what are you doing?" he asked, not knowing whether to be alarmed or fighting back.

"STOP BEING NAKED ALL THE TIME!" Remus yelled, with a final smack to his friend's head. "STAY AWAY FROM Y/N! HAPPY FREAKIN BIRTHDAY, YOU WHORE!"

James, who was watching the scene unfold, laughed loudly. The sound brought Remus back to reality, about how ridiculous his reaction was, and how it looked more childish than manly.

Sirius pushed him off, and stood up groggily. The audience around the two of them were openly sniggering. The former groaned and pulled Remus by his arm until they were both on the staircase, with people who didn't mind them because they weren't witnesses to their Saturday Night Live routine from below.

"ARE YOU HIGH?!" Sirius yelled.

Remus was still breathing heavily. "I'm sorry for calling you a whore."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Do you want to catch me up on speed here?"

Remus hesitated, then told him about how he felt it weird that one of his best friends liked someone he have feelings for, how he didn't want you to get involved in his classic heartbreak drama. Sirius had his mouth wide open by the end of it.

"It's not my business if you like her," Remus concluded, stuttering through his words, knowing he didn't mean any of it. "But if she goes out with you, you cannot treat her like one of your other girls. She deserves better than that."

"Who. In. The. World. Said. I bloody LIKED HER??"

"You—?"

"That's a phrase! I like her does not mean I want to go out with her!" Sirius appeared disheveled. "She was bold and looked like she might knock my lights out with one punch! I was admiring her, not bloody wanting to fuck her!"

Remus's face drained of color. "James said you invited her—"

"She said something about a fight between you two. I invited her 'cause I knew you'd never miss out on my party! I thought you could talk it out here! Oh my god, you really do think I'm a whore."

"I—" Remus had never been at a loss of word like this before. He was embarrassed with a capital E.

"Come on! I'm getting you beside Y/N right now before you start sprouting more nonsense."

"DO NOT TELL HER ABOUT THIS!"

"How you physically assaulted me in my own party for her? You're right I'm telling her — now, where is she?"

Sirius was sweet, but he looked rattled for good reason. Remus did the smart thing and slipped away from him while he was looking around for you. He didn't know where he was going, but he climbed up the stairs.

-

The rules were simple.

Spin the bottle had its own take this time. There were serious couples in the group, so instead of kissing whoever the bottle landed on, there was one moderator who spinned all the turns. The one it landed on had the option to kiss whoever they wanted, including their partners.

Yes, it was boring.

So far the odds of the bottle spinning to you were low to none, because the group was that huge, and you had only signed up for it because it had Lily. She was the only sober friend you had at the party, and you didn't want to end up being close to a bunch of knackered out Ravenclaws on your own.

You glanced at the door to see a familiar wave of brown hair. Remus?

-

"You know Sirius may not like her," James whispered in Remus's ear. "But any guy in that circle would be kissing her if the bottle lands on them."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Remus asked, annoyed. "You've got to stop acting like a ghost."

"Look at her," James went on, ignoring him. "She doesn't know the minute it lands on some drunk guy, she's gonna wish she never came to the party."

"Shut up," Remus said, taking a drink from the nearby table. He downed it in one go and kept watching over the game.

He didn't notice your eyes gazing over to him every few minutes.

-

Should I go now and apologize? No, he should apologize first. Why's he just standing there? Does he want an apology first for the water I splashed on his face which he absolutely deserved?

The bottle had previously landed on the girl to your right, and she was passionately making out with her best friend. All the guys were watching with open mouths.

Remus had no right to interrogate me like that. As if I'd go after Sirius, when at least three of my friends had their heart broken by him! Besides, if I'd have my heart broken, it would be with that idiot himself but he's too dense to realize that.

"Y/N!" Lily pulled you out of your thoughts.

"What?" you asked, looking down quickly to see whether the bottle was pointing at you. You sighed in relief when you realized it wasn't.

"Uhm," she pointed at the bottle again. You followed her line of gaze and saw the guy it was pointing at.

The same drunk guy who had been ogling at you the whole night.

"Told you," James said, nodding towards the guy leaning over the group to Y/N, who was now frozen.

Remus felt an unexplainable anger for the tenth time that night. He took another shot from the passerby, then without hearing James's protests, walked over to the group.

He realized with disgust that the guy was already puckering up, while you were still frozen in shock. How can anyone see that expression and think they're comfortable in the current situation?

With just three drinks in, Remus's head was already floating around so he did the only solution he could think of at that moment.

He flew in front of you and met his own lips with the guy's. The latter's eyes flew open and let out a cry of alarm, pushing himself backward.

"LUPIN!" you yelled in shock.

"Thought he wanted to kiss!" Remus let his hands up, but you had already stood up.

"Oh my god." You pulled him up by his shirt, then led him away from the shocked crowd. "Hope you liked the show!" You said to James on your way out.

"Oh, I loved it," he replied over his shoulder. You groaned when you realized he might have recorded the whole thing.

"Just what did you think you were doing?" you started once you were out of everyone's earshot. "First you say I want to fuck your friend, then you follow me around like a stalker!"

Before Remus could protest, you had enveloped him in a hug. He was taken aback. He didn't question it, just hugged you right back.

"Thank you," you murmured when you pulled apart, though you still sounded mad somewhere. Remus thought you sounded adorable.

"Anytime, though I'd appreciate if you don't bring yourself to a position where I have to kiss a guy to save you again." His grin faltered. "I'm sorry. About Sirius. I know you don't like him, I was a jerk."

You gave him a thorough look over. "You smell like beer. Cheap beer."

"Is that a code? Am I forgiven?"

"Come on, I'll get you back to your dorm." You said, shrugging. "I'll make you a really disgusting hangover cure tomorrow morning. The kitchen elves owe me one anyway."

He didn't move. You turned around and saw him contemplating.

"Y/N." Remus tilted his head to one side. I think I like you. Can I take you on a date? Can I be your boyfriend? "You look pretty."

You grinned. "Say it again when you're sober."

Remus hung his head to other side. "You'll be pretty then too."

Cheesy. But you liked it. The blush on your face had made that clear. You decided right then that if he didn't remember any of this tomorrow, you'd make him remember.

He'd probably deny all of it, but you were going to kiss the hell out of him either way.

--------------------------

THE END

------------------------

commissions | kofi

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter 6, Part 1

masterpost (please no editing, head hurt, throat hurt, words hard)

“Danny, no,” Dick said, again.

“Danny, yes,” Danny said back, again.

Gar leaned over to Wally and whispered loudly, “You like the stubborn ones, don’t you?”

Wally sighed and buried his face in his hands. That would have worked better if his hands weren’t still slightly transparent.

“Black hair and blue eyes too,” Victor added.

“What an observation, you’re a real genius,” Donna said with a roll of her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I actually am a genius,” Victor pointed out.

“Inappropriately positive,” Kori said with a tilt of her head as she watched Dick and Danny argue.

Gar blinked at her. “What?”

“Like… they are positive even when they should not be positive about the situation. They are… no, they pretend to be optimists,” Kori explained.

The rest of the gathered Titans looked at Dick and Danny thoughtfully.

“Yeah, no, you’re right. Inappropriately positive,” Gar agreed.

“Recklessly self sacrificing,” Raven added, to agreeing nods and murmurs.

“So smart they’re stupid.” The Titans turned to look at Mina, who just gave a little shrug. “It’s true.”

“So true. Can we keep you?” Gar asked.

Mina laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not hero material, I’m just an oracle. But if you ever need a reading, you just have to give me a call!”

Gar perked up like a puppy even without transforming. “Oh! Can you do one while you’re here?”

“Focus, Gar,” Raven said.

“Ugh. ‘Focus’, as if there’s anything we can do while they argue!” Gar said with a gesture towards Wally’s boyfriends.

“Who do you think will win?” Donna asked.

“Danny,” Wally answered. He pulled his face out of his hands and shrugged when his team (plus Mina) all looked at him. “At the end of it, they both want me back. Either Dick gives in now, or he gives in when things feel hopeless, but he’ll give in.”

“But at the risk of Danny?” Kori asked.

Wally bit back comment about how she didn’t know Dick, not like she thought she did, but that would have just been lashing out with his own frustrations. Dick and Kori’s breakup was ages ago, and Dick’s wounds had long scarred over. Besides, he never did let Wally fight for him, even when he needed it most.

“Danny’s been a hero. Rules are different for heroes,” Wally explained. “At the end of the day, Dick will trust that Danny understands the risk. He’ll let Danny make the final call.”

Raven gave a little nod. “And he will hate himself for it the whole time.”

“Yeah,” Wally agreed with a sigh. “Danny?”

The argument cut off with both of them turning to blink at Wally. It would be adorable, the way they moved in sync, if things weren’t so serious.

“Give me the over under on this,” Wally said. “Treat it like you’re proposing an experiment. What the risk something happens to you? What’s the risk we can’t undo it? And what’s the risk if we don’t do it?”

Danny set his hands stubbornly on his hips. “The risk is you never get back!”

“To you, Danny, what’s the risk to you,” Wally said, almost pleaded.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? What yeah?” Gar asked, unable to help himself.

“The yeah is, that I think it’s pretty obvious to everyone that being Wally’s anchor is effecting my health,” Danny said. He crossed his arms. He looked smaller for it. “Is my plan putting myself at risk? Sure. I would say about an eighty percent chance that something serious is going to happen to me.”

“Which is too high,” Dick pleaded.

Danny sighed. “But Wally’s point is, if we do nothing? It’s a hundred percent chance that something serious happens to me. This isn’t sustainable.”

“Oh…” Dick said after a beat. “Yeah, that’s an oh.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. He took a breath and turned back meet Dick head on. “I guess I wasn’t making that part clear enough. This is a risk, I know that, but we can do it as safely as possible. I can be surrounded by heroes in a state of the art medical facility. Sure, I’m already weaker than I was, but I’m still strong enough to do this. I’ve bounced back from worse; I believe in my chances. And at the end of the day, it’s my risk. So please, believe in me too?”

Dick was silent for a long moment, searching Danny’s gaze, but Wally already knew what Dick was doing to say. He wasn’t surprised at all when Dick sighed with a slight slump.

“I believe in you,” Dick said, “but there will be precautions and fail safes in place first, so we’re not doing it right this instant.”

“That’s fine,” Danny agreed quickly.

“And we’re bringing in some of the Justice league.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

Dick snorted. “You say that, but you haven’t met Constantine yet.”

“Who?”

--

AN: Wally loves his stubborn idiots and he's going to try to protect Dick from his own guilt if he can. Danny... he's just trying to trust Danny.

(While I love Kori as a character, I hate how that whole event was written and the victim blaming of it. So sometimes I have to let myself be a little salty about it.)

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders, devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), pregnancy (mention), dad!simon, mom!reader

⬩ author's note spooky season might be over but it's always halloween at the riley house! saw an addams family gif a little while ago and had to go back and watch the sitcom version from '64. i ended up not being able to stop imagining simon in a relationship like gomez and morticia's–passionate and completely devoted to each other and their family! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it, as there is much more of the riley family to come! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 1.4k

You’re uncomfortable here. Simon can feel it without even having to look at you.

The lights are too bright in the headmaster’s office, as are all the colors decorating the walls around you. No wonder his little Raven comes home with a frown that reminds him of yours and stories that make the entire house groan.

It’s when you shift for the second time, sniffing and rolling your stiff shoulders, that Simon places a warm palm on the back of your neck. The man watches you carefully as you all but melt into the touch, sinking against his hand with a soft sigh. It takes you a moment but you finally turn your head to meet his eyes, a silent thank you oozing from them in the quiet. His response–a squeeze of his hand–works well to settle you.

“Just a little longer, my darling,” your husband murmurs softly, not having to lean very far in his chair to plant a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear. He takes in a long inhale, the smell of you somewhat calming his frayed nerves. He breathes you in once more before kissing you again, this time on your jaw. “Then we’ll pick up our girl and leave this fuckin' hell they call a school.”

Simon’s lips drag nicely against you as he speaks. Slipping against you with light pecks, and staying there so long that it glides your hand into his grasp without you even noticing.

“I wonder what she’s done now. Hopefully something only a little unfortunate…” you sigh out, Simon laughing shortly against you as his mind fills with all the possible troubles his firstborn can cause. She takes after both you and Simon, he finds. Wickedly smart, fearless, and holds just enough disdain to make it the rest of the world’s problem.

Oh, your little Raven. Named after the blackbird that landed on the window seal the foggy morning you found out you were pregnant nearly seven years ago.

Neither of you bother to look when the door creaks open behind you, as Headmaster Archer is no one to be impressed by. A microscopic grin, however, cracks your lips when you hear his steps hesitate at the sight of you and your husband settled in front of his desk. It’s gone quicker than it came when you remind yourself where you are; in a little man’s stupid office for a reason you already know you’ll despise.

The footsteps resume after a quiet sigh, Headmaster Archer plastering an obviously fake smile as his greeting. He has to ease down in his chair, still not used to how harsh the pitch-black hue of your and Simon’s clothing clashes with the rest of the school.

“Mr. and Mrs. Riley… always a pleasure.”

“I wish we could say the same,” Simon rumbles back with an unimpressed look, the index finger of his free hand absentmindedly drawing swirls on the back of your hand. “Can we get on with it? ‘Ve got places to be.”

“Don’t we all,” Headmaster Archer chuckles rather nervously. The smile on his face drops into something uneasy at the displeased expressions on your and Simon’s faces. He gathers himself with a pathetic clearing of his throat and straightening of some blank, unimportant papers. He doesn’t even attempt to look at you, knowing that his bones will shake hard enough to shatter if he were to do such a thing. Instead, the headmaster settles for a few meek glances in Simon’s direction. “Alright. Well, I’ll try to make this as simple as possible; there was an… incident that occurred in Raven’s class today.”

Even with Simon still gripping just above your back, you grow painfully rigid. Your question leaves you, hot and quick.

“What incident?”

Headmaster Archer swallows thickly, still unable to flick his eyes your way. “It happened during today’s show and tell–”

“Look at my wife when you speak to her, Headmaster.”

The man behind the desk nearly jumps at Simon’s words. They ring darkly in the room, and the headmaster has to wring his shaking fingers hard to gain the courage to finally do as Simon commands. He doesn’t remember how to talk until an arched eyebrow from you has his voice croaking out.

“Tarantulas. She brought tarantulas–three of them, all as big and hairy as a rat–for show and tell. Pulled them out like they were nothing, then tried to pass them around. Her instructor was barely able to reign them up in all the chaos they caused. Children were crying. The adults were shaking. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it…”

The ramble trails off into nothing, allowing you and Simon a moment of quiet while the headmaster wipes at his face with a cheap handkerchief. God, you two make him sweat, and not in a good way.

Tilting your head, you peek over at your husband. He’s already looking at you, face reading ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Licking your lips, your eyes cut back to Headmaster Archer. 

“Not to be obtuse,Headmaster, but I don’t see what your issue is. All she wanted was to show her fellow pupils her favorite pets. Is that really so bad?”

“It is when the pets are spiders, Mrs. Riley. Not just spiders, but dangerous ones that, frankly, a child as young as Raven should not have access to.”

The headmaster has no idea where the things spilling out of his mouth are coming from. Maybe it’s the heat of the room making him a little braver. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll see Raven’s spiders in his nightmares tonight, you and Simon standing along with them happily while they eat him alive. 

Regret soon washes over him faster than he can think. Even more so when he sees Simon, in all his dark clothes and scars and thick muscles, clench his jaw and shift in his seat like he’s thinking about hitting the man. Coincidentally, you’re the one moving first, giving the hand of a seething Simon a tender squeeze before you uncross your legs to stand.

You don’t have to move any closer than you are now to say what you want. The anger dripping from your tone is sharp enough to slice at him as it always does.

You’re all sinister smiles as you promise the man. “If you upset my daughter again, you’ll have a lot more than a few spiders to worry about, Headmaster.”

With that, you’re gone. Nothing more from you other than one last glare at the headmaster and a sweet kiss on Simon’s cheek before your heels click out of the horrid office. If Simon wasn’t so miffed, he’d remember to swivel his head to watch your hips as you go.

Unlucky for the headmaster, Simon does not swivel or admire. All he does is stare something horrid into the man across from him, eyes so hot they could bore a hole into the sweaty head of Archer if Simon wished it hard enough. 

The two remain in that position for a good while–Headmaster Archer doing all he can not to evaporate into a puddle of fear and Simon nearly wishing the man dead for making his girls upset. It’s around five minutes later when a small voice sounds at the office entrance.

“Papa, can we leave now? Mama’s ready.”

Simon rips away his glare, making sure to soften his eyes as he looks back at his daughter. He can tell she’s a little sad, mostly annoyed, as she cradles her tarantulas in a see-through cage. 

“Of course,” he coos without a second look to the headmaster, raising from his chair and moving to lift his daughter into his arms. He kisses her forehead, arms encircling her to ensure she doesn’t fall. “And you did nothing wrong, my girl. Do you hear me? Let’s just make sure to keep our pets at home from now on, yes? These silly little people don’t know how to appreciate them like you do.”

“Yes, Papa,” little Raven nods dutifully, Simon rewarding her with another kiss on the cheek and rub on her back. “Can we stop and catch crickets for my spiders on the way home? They’ve had a rough day…”

Simon huffs a laugh, glancing down at the cage of spiders with a short smile. He looks back up at his daughter and winks, exiting the office and leaving behind a shaking, sweating, helpless Headmaster Archer.

“Anything for you, my little devil.”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[miyurimi]

𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙑𝙞 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 + 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙗 𝙘𝙪𝙯 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 ♡︎

Content: fluff cuz that's what she deserves, vi just being babied cuz she's so sweet and beautiful and smart and perfect and UGH 💔

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎ʚ🍓ɞ♡♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

☁︎ Vi laying her head on your lap, tucked tightly into a soft blanket while you softly rub her hair, humming a gentle melody soothing her to sleep.

☁︎ Big spooning Vi, rubbing her back and kissing her hair as she snoozes

☁︎ Buying Vi a soft set of silk pajamas and some cute animal slippers

☁︎ Taking Vi to a library just to see how happy she gets, she swears she feels like a child again

☁︎ Patching Vi up after a fight, kissing all her wounds making her smile and blush a little

☁︎ Listening to Vi go on and on about a book she read while you massage her back

☁︎ Taking a nice bath with Vi, washing her hair and scrubbing her back, and having a bubble fight ♡︎

☁︎ Doing her eye makeup and sneaking kisses on her face, making her giggle.

☁︎ Sitting in the living room coloring Vi's tattoos as she watches TV, peeking at you every now and then and smiling at the colors of your choice

☁︎ Making breakfast with Vi, dancing to slow music as you two maneuver the kitchen

☁︎ Watching stupid rom-coms with Vi, staring at her big smile as she laughs contagiously at a corny line that she would totally use

☁︎ Having cute aggression towards Vi, she could be doing anything, and suddenly your jumping on her attacking her face with kisses and squeezing her as she laughs

☁︎ Watching Disney movies with Vi, seeing how serious she gets when they are on. She totally cried when Ray died in The Princess and the Frog

✎ 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙗 ✎

You're in the kitchen, finishing up Vi's favorite meal, you decided to make it when you remembered that she mentioned she hadn't had it in years, not since she was a child.

As your cleaning up you suddenly hear soft footsteps and see Vi from emerge from the hallway, still wrapped in a blanket rubbing her eyes. She walks over to you and lays her head on your shoulder, you smile as you hug her with your cheek. You turn her towards you and kiss the tip of her nose, earning you a small smile. She finally speaks, "Smells s'good, what is it?"

You can't help but giggle at how cute she looks, it's rare to see her in such a gentle state, no stress or fighting. Vi isn't even used to it herself.

"Y'said you hadn't had your favorite meal in years, so I found a cookbook and made it for you" you reply

She finally opened her eyes to you, powder blues looking at you like you're a heaven sent angel (she really believes you are) "You did that for me? Seriously?" she questions

You place a soft kiss on her lips "Of course, I love you, now go sit and I'll make your plate 'k?"

After she's settled, she stares at the food in front of her, she looks at you and smiles. You urge her to try it. She finally takes a bite, you're on edge, staring at her as she chews.

You notice a tear fall from her eye, and you jump to her side. "Vi? Are you okay? Is it that bad? I'm so sorry!"

She shakes her head, taking your hand and kissing it. "Nonono it's perfect! Just how I remember, I just started feeling a little evocative about it, sorry."

You sigh with a hand on your heart walking back to your seat to enjoy your meal. You feel your heart swell as you see how happy vi looks, how at peace she is, you really love her with your whole being.

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎ʚ🍓ɞ♡♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

AUGH she deserves the world I love her so much

Lmk if I should do more!

[jarofstyles]

Picture blurb time! Mean dom is out to play

Check out our Patreon!

Warninfs- mean dom, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, slight spit play, degrading, manhandling, hair pulling,

“Mmm, little mouth isn’t so smart now, is it?” She couldn’t respond with his fingers over her lips. Part of her didn’t want to, because it would mean he’d possible stop his rhythm. Hitting right where she needed him as she had her legs wrapped around his hips the best she could, propped up on the sink.

Had she been mouthy? Yes. It wasn’t necessarily shock because Harry knew just how much she could be a sassy little thing, but it seemed he had reached him limit today. One too many snarky comments during dinner and he had excused himself to the restroom, with a text for her to follow right after.

Her eyes were hooded as the wet thump of his hips meeting hers echoed in the bathroom, the slight squelch of how wet his manhandling had gotten her only aiding in the arousal she felt. It only amplified when his fingers came up to her lips, thumbs spreading them, smearing her lipstick over her cheeks- her teeth. He was making a mess of her.

“They’re going Y’know when you go back out there… that you’re a slut.” He said through clenched teeth, dark eyes looking down at her. “That you’ve got me t’keep you in line. You knew what was going t’happen the second time I pinched your thigh but you kept going. Because you’re a dirty…little… whore.” The words between thrusts were ended with a kiss at the end, brutal and hot. The thumb he’d used to make a mess of her lipstick with found her clit, rubbing it sloppily as he tasted her mouth, running over her teeth and sucking on the tip of her tongue.

Letting out a keening moan, she held onto him, grasping his hair with desperation as her body was jolted with his thrusts. He was teaching her a lesson, and he was giving it to her good. Her body was buzzing with the way he treated her, how he touched her, how he spoke.

“S’a shame, really.” He panted, pulling back with her saliva on his chin. “That I have to fuck you stupid to get you to shut up. Just wanted my sweet girl for this one night… but if you don’t get my cock, you show me how much of a brat you are.” He loved it, actually, and they both knew it. “So now you’re going to take my cum in your cunt, like you were made t’do, and go back out there with a smile on your face. You’re gonna let them see your face stained… fuck, with that lipstick.” He felt his cock pulse inside of her, speeding his thrusts up.

“And they’re going to know what we did in here. You’ll sit next t’me like a good girl, with my load drippin’ out of that puffy pussy, and if you’re good you’ll get some more when we get home.” He looked down to see her cunt clinging to his shaft, letting out a curse before looking back into her glazed over eyes. “Do you understand?”

Immediately she nodded, breathing heavily as she tried to kiss him again. “I understand. I- I love you.”

The grin grew on his face as he allowed the kiss, only to grip her hair and tug her back with her yelp. “Love you too, little fuckin’ brat.”

[crow-crystal]

DP x DC PROMPT

Waylon didn't plan this. He didn't plan to meet a kid in the sewers, and he certainly didn't plan on adopting the little tyke. Then again, the toddler kinda adopted him first. Danny was obviously a meta or something. No normal kid looked like a strange mix of fae and animal. Though the kid was happily calling himself a crocodile anytime someone asked what he was nowadays. It wasn't too long after Waylon adopted (Danny refused to leave and started calling him dad, so he gave up and accepted his fate) that another kid appeared. She was a spitfire, that was for sure, a little red-headed werewolf named Jazz. She was only a bit older than Danny, too.

Tucker is a meta (You decide the powers) and visits the family in the sewers with new random tech he makes. He was reborn in a nice (eh) part of gotham. His family chose to reincarnate with him, so they knew everything. They're just happy to enjoy trying things and jobs they didn't get to last life.

Sam is rich, again, much to her loathing. She's the daughter of a couple owning a company that is mostly focused on making things clean the earth (only reason she isn't seething), and also, she's a meta with control over plants. Her parents are infact ghosts that the group had befriended that happened to be planning on reincarnating anyway. They don't remember everything. Not everyone was allowed that, (ghost king Danny had privileges to ensure he didn't ignore infinite realms issues. Stupid Observants.) So Sam gets along swell with her new parents, and Tucker does as well.

Danny and Jazz end up being the reason Waylon gets an apartment. Its in crime ally, but hey, it's better than the sewers. (They still go down to the sewers. It's still their territory, their haunt. Plus, Uncle Grundy is there!) It makes it easier for Tucker to visit. (Tuck and his parents' visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Waylon has adult friends now, yay!).

Yada Yada, after a year or two passes, Danny gets summoned, and the Justice League is too late to stop it. Baby Danny is in ghost king regalia, confused, but before the Justice League can do anything, Jazz has already ripped open a portal (thanks wulf and cujo) and the heroes are facing a VERY angry werewolf pup and a PISSED Waylon Jones who's too busy picking his tired and disoriented ghost kid up and letting Jazz climb up his back while growling at the heroes to do anything else. Batman, in a rare sense of smartness, let's them leave without a word.

Batman may or may not be arguing with Jason about interrogating them, but eventually doesn't as a way to appease Jason and bc he knows the tired dad look waylon has.

[cinnamongrl2006]

what if…. English Major nerd!jason tutoring bimbo!reader… and reader’s entire mission is to just annoy him / flirt with him so he’ll do her course work so she doesn’t have to

* ⊹₊⟡⋆ mdni 18+ * ⊹₊⟡⋆

a/n: My queen @ditzydoe444 has some stuff about this that are soo scrumptious, so defo check her blog out, THAT BEING SAID— here’s my interpretation of it, enjoyy. Also, do we like the new format or was the three picture banner thing cuter? Also, this gave me war flashbacks from my uni lit class, that was WAR *

Warnings: fingering (idk, nothing else happens, guys)

When you were assigned Jason as a tutor for your English lit course you thought it'd be easy to get him to do all the work, a bat of your eyes and an empty promise and he'd be scrambling behind you like a lost puppy; however, you soon found it wasn't like that.

At first he didn't think much of the lingering touches and fleeting glances, of the way you'd rest your hand on his thigh and leaned over his hips to see the glowing laptop screen better, or how you’d chew on your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes; but then came the bolder touches, the flirting and pouting your glossed lips at him when you didn’t want to do the coursework.

And Jason, sweet and doting, smiled back with his cheeks and ears red and a boner in his jeans.

You prided yourself in the fact that you could get him hard nearly as quick as he got you soaked, you’d always had a thing for nerdy guys.

Jason was anything but stupid, and he quickly realized you were trying to lure him to do all the work, so when you put your hand over his clothed cock that day— running it up and down his half hard shaft while you spoke about the reading with feigned innocence— he didn’t stop you, instead he angled his hips up into your palm and groaned, smiling at your flustered look.

You recovered quickly, manicured hand gripping his clothed cock harder, complaining about how you just didnt get the coursework.

“Come on…you do get it, we’ve gone over it before. It’s just— metaphors.” His voice came out strained, breathy.

“No, Jay, I swear I don’t— can’t you just…do it so I can see what it is?” You whined, body angled towards him, buzzing at the proximity; your tits pushed up enticingly close to his face.

He could give in easily, reach out and—no. He’d voluteered to tutor you, not fuck you (no matter how much he wanted to do the latter).

All his resolve came crumbling when you spread your legs slightly and placed his hand on your inner thigh.

“You can at least explain it again, no?” Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand closer to where you wanted it.

That’s how you ended up with his thick fingers playing with your clit as he quizzed you. Whenever you’d get a question wrong his movements would halt, if you staggered or didn’t know the answer, he’d slow down.

“I don’t know, Jay, I swear!” You whined, hips pushing up against his hand.

“Babe, you do know. Come on, I told you less than an hour ago.” His tone didn’t have that usual veil of stoicism you’d once confused with shyness, he was almost patronizing.

“Let’s do this,” He ripped his hand off your panties, his fingers glistened with your arousal when he pushed them past your lips. “If you get the question right, I’ll put a finger in.”

You whined, sucking his fingers clean. “Fine.”

“Okay, use your pretty little head, what do you think?” His words were sweet, calming as he snaked his hand up your skirt and under your panties again.

“It’s…lady Macbeth?” You whined, his hand now so close to where you needed him.

“Such a smart girl,” He pushed a finger in. “See? You just needed an incentive, didn’t you?”

────୨ৎ────

* I’m sooo considering doing a part two for this of just smut because I lovedd writing it, so if the anon who sent this wants it lmkkk!!

masterlist

[seungfl0wer]

*Run Rabbit*

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Primal Play, Breeding, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Sex Outside, (P In V), Reader called Bunny. (not proof read)

Kinks: Primal Play + Breeding

˚ ༘♡Master List (Here) for the 1K Event

-🩵

Your boyfriend has invited you to go camping for the weekend with him. A nice peaceful area he has found, nestled in the woods a small cabin by the lake. The place was beautiful and at night you could see the stunning stars sprinkled across the sky. You had already set up everything and were just relaxing by the fire as he cooked some meat over it.

The two of you sat there just talking about everything until Minho left out a chuckle. You tilted your head as if to ask him what he was laughing at and he pointed. You squinted your eyes to see two rabbits chasing on another the bigger one mounting the other. “Ah to have the thrill of the chase” he said almost too nonchalantly. Staring at him for a brief second “hmm” you said eyes locked on him. “What? Don’t think it’d be fun for me to chase you through these woods like a little bunny running from a mighty cat?”

He was meeting your gaze now smirking at the way your eyes almost lit up at his words. “Yeah? And does it end in the big ol cat eating the rabbit” you teased. “Something like that. Something will probably get eaten in the end” he shrugged. You choked on your spit at his comment, you could feel yourself becoming turned on as you played fantasy’s in your head. “Bunny” he said his voice almost teasing “I’ll give you a minute to run as far as you can.” The devilish smile that was plastered across his face made you almost moan.

“And if you catch me?” You say tilting your head again. He breathed in letting the air out in a sigh “then I’ll fuck you like the little rabbit you are” he chuckled. You stood up looking at him with a smile “you gotta catch me first kitty cat.” You teased. You were ready to bolt out of there before Minho spoke “before I start the timer you remember the safe word right bunny?” He said already eyeing you up. You nod “mhm.” You said in almost a hum. “Good you better get going I hit the timer a good 10 seconds ago” he said with a laugh.

You didn’t even hesitate running through the woods looking everywhere for a place you could hide. You heard Minho yell “Oh bunny” your brain going fuzzy realizing the time was already up and he was on the hunt. You ran past a tree with a red mark realizing you had already passed it. You were going in circles. You could hear twigs snapping as Minho ran through the woods in search for you. You didn’t know if you wanted to hide because the chase excited you or wanted to be pounced on from how turned on you were with all of this.

A twig snapped again sounding too close for comfort this time. As you started to run again you could hear Minho behind you “bunny” his voice almost growl running close behind you. You bobbed and weaved through the brush trying to lose him. You looked back quickly and saw he wasn’t there which made you slow down a bit. You were trying to catch your breath before you hear another twig break this time directly behind you. Before you could even react Minho had his arms around you, he manhandled you to the ground.

He moved you into position ass up in the air head down in the dirt. “Dirty little rabbit gave me a good chase.” He growled gripping your hips nicely as he pushed his body down onto to whisper into your ear. “Did the stupid little bunny really think she could out smart the sly cat hmm?” He chuckled an almost villain laugh. “I’m gonna fuck this rabbit stupid. Gonna show her why little bunnies shouldn’t mess with big scary cats.” He said voice husky, he was gripping your thighs hard rutting into you as he talked.

“My pretty little bunny” he said moving his body back to smack your ass hard. You let out a whimper your core aching from his touch, from his hot words. God you needed him, you needed him so badly it almost hurt. Minho on the other hand his brain was so foggy. The scenario running through his head as he felt his animalistic desires taking over. He felt as if he just caught his prey and was ready to completely devour you. The glint in his eyes was almost unnerving but fuck was it ever so hot.

He had no thoughts in his head other than ‘breed bunny.’ His body was almost on fire from desire and so was yours. Everything felt hot felt like a movie scene or I guess a porn scene. Minhos hands yanked down your sweats, ripping the pretty little lace panties you had on before pushing his fingers into you. The feeling of having something finally inside you made you moan so heavenly. Your wet cunt dripping around his digits clenching around them.

He chuckled that same villain like chuckle “you’re so fucking desperate aren’t you” he said his free hand coming down hard on your ass. “You’re such a filthy little animal” his voice almost a growl at this point. He pumped his fingers in and out of you stopping abruptly pulling them out. You let out a loud whine at the loss of them feeling so empty now. “I’ll give you another minute to run hmm?” He said his tone teasing. When you didn’t move though he smirked “no? Rather stay here and let me fuck you senseless? Gonna be my little toy to fuck hmm?” His words made you groan in response “y-yes” you stuttered out.

Minho bit his lip hard, he pulled his pants down quickly his cock sprang up smacking his stomach. He wasn’t super girthy but was very long. You always joked he had a pornstars dick which almost inflated his ego of course. He aligned himself to your entrance rubbing the head between your folds hitting your throbbing little nub. The sensation made you moan you were so sensitive wanting just to be touched at this point.

Minhos eyes were locked on the way your juices wet his cock making a mess of it. He let out a low groan before he put the tip to your entrance pushing fully in, in one swift motion. He let out the most lustful moan as his balls slapped your wetness. You almost screamed at the feeling of being so filled so fast. He didn’t let himself adjust long before he was pounding into you. His hands gripping harshly at your hips nails digging deep into your skin.

The strewn of ‘fucks’ leaving his mouth started to mumble together, and you? You were such a moaning mess under him drool trailing down your chin. He let another harsh smack to your ass before moving his hand to in tangle in your hair gripping it hard pulling your head back. “This wanted you wanted? The big Cat fucking you like a rabbit in heat hmm? Wanting nothing more than me to fuck you hard like this?” He spat.

You groaned in response but it wasn’t good enough for him “Are you too stupid to talk? Use your words or are you just a dumb little bunny?” He hissed pulling your hair harder. “Fuck- Mm-Min yes- want-“ your words were almost incoherent at this point already so fucked out of your mind. He laughed in response “you can’t even speak properly to fucked out already?” He said this time he didn’t wait for a response. He let go of your hair pushing your head back down as-well as your body, keeping your ass in the air though.

The new angle let him get even deeper he watched as his cock disappeared and reappeared in and out of your sloppy cunt. You could hear him mumbling to himself ‘what mess, so wet for me’ he said ‘gonna cum deep and breed you good’ his voice was almost a whisper and a growl combined. It was so fucking hot. He left a smack to your ass again smirking at the big red print he had made. His movements were becoming a bit erratic, he could feel his high coming. Not wanting this to end just yet he pushed deep into you before stopping his movements.

He reached his hand down to play with your neglected clit rubbing harsh circles over it. He moved his body against yours once again sucking your shoulder and neck harshly. He loved marking your body letting everyone know you were taken. You were taken by him. And only him. The feeling of you being so stuffed, him now biting your neck harshly and his hand moving so perfectly against your clit was too much. Your legs started to shake it becoming harder for you to stay how you were positioned. Minho growled against your skin “stay” he staid feeling your legs become wobbly.

“Min- close- please” you moaned the drool dropping down your face now. The feeling of your walls clenching around him made him start to move. His movements were slow at first before he quickened them groaning against your ear now. “Cum on my cock while I pump you full, gonna breed you so good. Gonna fill you with all my cum- gonna-“ his words stuttered as his high was approaching “gonna make fill you till I know your pregnant with all my kittens” he said bringing his free hand to grip around your throat moving your head to kiss you sloppily.

Sucking hard on your tongue exchanging moans teeth crashing into each other. You felt your legs almost give out at the last hard thrust of Minhos burring his cock deep inside you before releasing all his hot cum. You could feel his cock poking at your stomach feeling all of his hot liquid fill you to the brim. His hand that was still playing with you clit moved faster as your high came along just as quick. Your high washing over you as your cunt gripped him perfectly. “Ah- fuck-“ he moaned out at the feeling “your cunts gonna suck every last drop out of me” he said body shaking at the feeling.

“Y/n” he moaned into your ear he wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him as you came down from your high both of you trying to catch your breath. Once you two came down you could feel him still twitching a bit inside you. His arms lazily wrapped around you his head in the crook of your neck as he kissed you softly. “Ugh fuck” he groaned out. “What?” You said breathily. “We’re gonna have to walk the whole way back” he whined. You chuckled a bit “yeah guess so.”

He smiled against your skin “I’ll give you a minute to get back or we’ll just go for a round two if I catch you.” He chuckled a bit. “Minho, I don’t even think I can stand right now.” You teased. “Well better try before I start the counter again.” He said kissing your neck. You were gonna call his bluff but you could feel his cock become hard again. “If I make it home before you catch me we are taking a nice bath.” You bargained. He nodded “fine but you better start running I already started the timer.” He said with an evil grin. This little asshole I swear.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 2)

“Aww, look at these sparks…” Gaz coos gently, watching your scared little figure curled up in the back of the nest as you try your best to use your magic to keep them away. “For a baby witch? Isn’t that just precious?”

A heavy grunt scares you enough for your magic to just die right then and there, your head whipping to the side where the big bastard of a familiar was sitting. His body looked completely relaxed, arms crossed and eyes focused on your little form curled against the wall.

“Careful, little witch,” Ghost warns, voice low and heavy, making you just stare at him with even more terror. “Might get hurt.”

“Ow, just let the lassie get everything out, she’s scared.” Soap smiles big, laying down on his belly, looking up at you with both hands holding his head up like a teenage girl in love or something.

He was so close to your curled-up legs too, almost asking for a kick in his face.

“We’re such good familiars, baby. No need to try to harm us,” Gaz coos again, crawling a little closer to your little form.

His movement was enough to startle you, magic immediately coming to life as your hands sparked hot red for a second.

Only to die right away thanks to big, warm hands enveloping your little ones and forcing your magic down easily.

“Our strong baby witch,” Ghost rumbles in an animalistic way, his giant hands holding yours close to his chest now that he was by your side. “It’s okay, calm yourself. You can get hurt like this, darlin’.”

“M-My magic…!” you manage to exclaim, a mix of indignation and fear as you look up at his face with big, wide eyes.

“No guidance, no preparation, no form.” Price’s voice immediately alerts you, making you look at the end of the room where the oldest familiar was quietly preparing something on that stupid high table of his. “It is pretty incredible that you have such high-level magic for a baby witch with no Coven, but it’s not good to try and use your magic at any given time like this.”

“I-I can use—I know how to use my magic…!” you protest slightly, now more indignant than anything else, little hands still stuck in the bigger familiar’s grasp.

You pretend not to notice the way he was rubbing your hands gently, not letting go.

“Never said you couldn’t, doll,” Price smirks a little as he spares you a glance from his chair. “Just saying it’s not smart. Might get hurt; even experienced witches lose control of their magic from time to time.”

“And no one’s expecting a baby to have the best control, mo leanbh,” Soap adds, still laying down with a big, dumb smile plastered on his stupid face.

It made you annoyed enough to uncurl one of your legs and… kinda kick his face? Well, not kick, more like push his face to the side as you press your little foot to his cheek. He didn’t seem to mind, though, a stupid grin as he lets you do as you want.

“Such a gentle little witch too…” Gaz mumbles, approaching once again to nuzzle against your side gently. Yeah, no, this jerk has to be a cat or something. “It has been ages since the last time I saw an actual baby witch….”

“They are always so well-hidden deep in Covens. A pity, too, that our last witch dinae take much interest in them.” Soap agrees easily, still not doing anything about your socked foot on his face.

You try to push him more, but he doesn’t really budge.

“Let go,” you grumble at Ghost, trying to free your hands as you glare (such a cute glare, he could look at your baby-ish, cute expression for decades) at him.

“Aww, but baby, what if you try to use your magic again?” And you know the second that you see the pout on Gaz’s lips that he’s mocking you. The audacity…!

“Boys, stop that, you’re going to overwhelm her—“

“G-Get away…!” You raise your voice a bit more, squirming against them, trying to free your hands from the restraining grip and trying to push the face against your foot farther from you.

And then you feel Soap grip your ankle. Gently, but he grips it nonetheless.

And then you’re crying, overwhelmed.

“Oh no, no, no, no, didn’t mean it, lassie!” Soap quickly lets go, getting up on his knees with a worried expression.

Ghost also lets your hands go, almost as if he was burned, and you immediately start to rub your face and eyes, sniffling as you try to contain your tears.

“I’m so sorry, hun, I’m sorry, I was being an asshole, wasn’t I…?” Gaz is also quick to apologize, lowering his body enough to be smaller than you as he bumps his head quietly against your arm, regret written all over his face.

Price lets out a heavy sigh from his chair, rubbing his face with the hand that isn’t working with something on the table.

“I know none of us are used to baby witches, but boys, you have to tone down. She’s not a mature witch; she can’t take your provocations like this.”

“Ah dinae even provoke…!” Soap immediately protests, hands hesitating around you as he tries to calm you down. “Gaz did it…!”

“Oh, shut it, Tav.” He growls quietly, shuffling a bit to your side as you keep sniffling and trying to control your tears.

And then, a black cat jumps onto your lap. A big, fluffy black cat. It confuses you for a second until you remember what familiars are, and you quietly settle down a little, hands hesitantly touching the cat now laying on top of your legs, looking up at you with big, yellow eyes.

The other familiars seem to calm down too as they see you calming down. Ghost is still unmoving by your side, but he doesn’t seem like a ball of anxiety anymore, and Soap also settles down in front of you, sitting on the mattress with a relieved sigh.

“Ghost, Soap, come ‘ere,” Price calls, approaching the nest now with what looks like four gold bands on his hands.

“Oh, we’re doing it already?” Soap asks, eyes big in excitement as he quickly grabs one of the gold bands. “Ah’ll start!”

You watch in almost shock as he quickly slashes a cut on his hand with just his long nails, rubbing his blood over the band before turning to you with a big, delighted grin, his hand coming up to gently, but firmly, pull your right leg closer to him.

“Johnny MacTavish, mah beirn.” And then, the band locks on your ankle, a flash of light blinding you for a second, your magic twisting inside of you in response to what you thought was his own magic coming into contact.

The cat jumps out of your lap in a quick movement, becoming a man in the span of a second and grabbing the other gold band, also swiping his nails against his arm to let his blood drip onto the gold.

“’M so sorry, sweetie, I’ll keep myself in check, yeah?” Gaz smiles gently, pulling your left leg forward with his hand. “Kyle Garrick.”

Another flash of light, another band locked in place, and once again, your magic twists inside you as soon as it comes into contact with his.

“Ugh…” You wince slightly, curling up a bit on yourself at the intense feeling.

“Is she hurting…?” Soap mumbles, unsure, looking at you worriedly.

“Probably a bit weirded out with some of our magic seeping through to hers…” Kyle says calmly, though he is also worried, pushing your hair a little out of your face.

“Even though we’re forcing the bond indirectly, she’s bound to feel some kind of discomfort…” Price nods, offering the third band to Ghost. “It would be way worse if we were actually doing the bond pact right off the bat. That’s for when she’s older.”

Ghost grunts as he bites down on his hand, rubbing the blood messily against the shining gold. You try to scoot away from him, but one of his hands immediately goes for your small back, pulling you close and grabbing your right arm.

“Simon Riley.” Immediately, the gold band locks on your wrist, a new wave of magic coming through you and almost knocking you out.

“Price, be gentle…” Kyle murmurs, frowning a bit at your pinched expression as he quietly tries to soothe you.

“Lass might pass out…” Soap observes, hand coming to your hair to pull it out of your face slightly.

“It’s going to be quick,” Price nods, approaching you and pulling your left arm close to him. He gently pulls it close, and with a small kiss against your palm, he locks the band in place. “John Price.”

The magic running through you is immediately bothered once again, twisting out of the way of a new presence as you squirm and whine in their arms. It’s getting hard to stay awake, your body still too weak and young to take the presence of four powerful familiars tied to you. Sure, it’s a weak bond, not a proper pact, but it would be unreal for a witch your age to manage to endure a bond pact. That’s probably why they chose this option in the first place; like this, you’re all tied together, and your young body and mind will be able to get used to them as time passes for a proper pact in the future.

For now, though, it’s all a little too much as you loose consciousness in their arms, feeling four traces of ancient magic stick to your much younger magic core.

[lustlvii]

May I request a San and Mingi x reader fic? Maybe as a Mafia AU where the reader (fem) is from the enemy family and she’s there to discuss business with them. Something ensues, tension builds.

A smutty one if possible lol. Go wild. Love ur fics and would love to be mutuals!

got some nerve. San , Mingi x Female!reader [MAFIA AU]

Including: Choi San and song mingi

Warnings: Mafia AU, threesome, double penetration, oral (m receiving), like one ass slap, name calling (slut, angel), floor sex basically, spit (MINGI DOES IT LIKE ONCE), This is long and dirty so 😍

Authors note: sorry Anon this took awhile to write!! And yes ofc let's be moots 😽😽🤭 guys I think I enjoy this 🫨 but it's also very long :(

The room smelled like burnt cigars and sandalwood cologne, thick with a silence neither of you cared to break.

You sat, legs crossed at the knee, eyes flickering between the two men at the other end of the table. Mingi leaned back, shoulder brushing San’s as he toyed with a toothpick between his lips, expression unreadable behind the dim glow of low light. San, on the other hand, was all sharp lines and smirking eyes, elbows on the table like he owned the space. Like you were already his, in some twisted way.

"You’ve got some nerve showing up alone," San said first, voice smooth but edged like a blade. "Pretty little thing from that family thinking she can waltz into our territory with demands."

You smiled. Not sweetly. Not apologetically.

"Correction," you said, fingers tapping slowly against your glass of untouched whiskey. "I came with an offer. You want to talk nerves, let’s talk about how you two didn't bring backup either."

Mingi chuckled, low and lazy. "Didn’t think we’d need any. Not for you."

"That confidence is going to get someone killed one day," you murmured.

San tilted his head. "Is that a threat?"

"Not yet."

The silence crackled between the three of you like thunder waiting to break.

San leaned forward now, gaze fixed on yours like he was trying to peel layers back with his stare alone. "You think we’re stupid? Coming in here talking truce like it doesn’t reek of setup?"

You met his gaze evenly. "I think you're smart enough to know that sometimes the enemy of your enemy is worth keeping alive."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed, finally discarding the toothpick. "You mean Jang’s crew. You want us to believe you'd rather help us than see your own family win?"

"Let’s just say…" you said, finally picking up the glass and sipping slow, "I believe in personal survival more than loyalty. And your rivals don’t discriminate when they put a bullet between someone's eyes. Family name or not."

They didn’t say anything. Not for a moment.

Then San’s tongue clicked behind his teeth. "I don’t trust you."

"You shouldn’t."

"But I want to hear more."

Mingi nodded. “You’ve got five minutes, angel.”

You set the glass down with a soft clink, the whiskey untouched again.

"Jang’s expanding. Fast. Too fast," you said, voice even, laced with something just beneath the surface — a dare, maybe. "And he’s not doing it clean. Half of his new muscle is ex-military. The other half? Trigger-happy kids with something to prove. You think this territory of yours is safe?"

San leaned back slowly, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. "We can handle Jang."

You nodded once. "Maybe. But how many casualties are you willing to stomach first?"

Mingi crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes still fixed on you, watching every breath, every flicker of expression. "Why do you care? If he takes us out, that just clears the board for your people."

"My people," you scoffed under your breath, lips twisting. "Would gut me the moment it benefits them. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to survive. That’s the difference between me and them."

San’s eyes didn’t leave yours, but there was a new glint in them now. Curiosity. Maybe even respect. "And what’s your plan, little traitor?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Information. Routes. Names. I give you access to what Jang’s trying to hide. You hit them before they move. In exchange, I walk when this is over. Clean. Untouched. No ghost on my back. No bullet in mine."

Mingi let out a low whistle. "That’s a lot of trust you're asking for. Dangerous thing to gamble in our world."

"And yet," you said, standing slowly, voice lowering just enough to tighten the room’s tension like a noose, "you haven’t told me to leave."

You stepped around the table now — not rushed, not fearful — until you were standing directly across from the two of them. San’s hand twitched once near the pistol at his waist. You smiled, slow and knowing.

"Am I close enough for you to shoot, San?" you asked. "Or is it that you just don’t want me to leave yet?"

His gaze was sharp. But he didn’t answer.

Mingi sat up straighter, jaw ticking. "You’re a pretty girl with blood on your hands. We’ve killed for less than the name you carry. And yet here you are."

"Here I am," you echoed.

For a long beat, no one moved. The city outside the window pulsed like a heartbeat, muffled by the glass and the weight of what hung in the air between you all.

Finally, San stood, slow and deliberate.

"Three days," he said. "If the intel checks out, we talk again. If it doesn’t—"

"I know," you cut in. "I’ll be the one in the body bag."

Mingi chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "You really do have some nerve."

San’s stare hadn’t moved from you since the word “walk” left your lips.

But when you stepped closer, just within arm’s reach, his fingers curled around your chin without hesitation.

“Untouched, huh?” he murmured, tilting your face up. His thumb swept over your bottom lip like he was checking for a lie. “Bet that mouth’s told more stories than your eyes ever will.”

“Want me to tell you one?” you breathed, lashes low.

San’s smirk was sharp enough to cut. “No,” he said. “I want you to show me.”

Behind you, Mingi stood as well—slower, heavier, the sound of his chair scraping against the concrete floor echoing like a countdown.

Your breath hitched.

Two predators now circled.

San’s grip slid to your throat—not choking, just holding, commanding. “On your knees, angel,” he said, voice so low it barely qualified as sound.

You sank without protest.

“Good girl,” Mingi muttered behind you, dragging his palm across your cheek once, affectionate in a twisted way.

The clink of a belt unbuckling made your stomach flutter. San tugged his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring free—hard, flushed, already leaking. He tapped it twice against your lips.

“Open wide. Don’t make me ask again.”

You did.

He slid in slowly at first—almost gentle—but that mercy vanished the moment your tongue flattened against the underside of him.

San groaned, hand threading into your hair. “Fuck… just like that. Traitor’s mouth was made for this.”

Mingi crouched beside you, watching the way your cheeks hollowed as San thrust forward again, testing your limits.

“Sloppy little thing,” he muttered. “Drool’s already running down your chin.”

San chuckled, low and pleased. “You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned around his cock, eyes fluttering shut.

“Keep them open,” he ordered, jaw tight. “Wanna see that look when you choke on it.”

He shoved deeper this time—faster—fucking your face like you weren’t someone who’d just bargained your way into a war.

You gagged once. Then twice.

And San only groaned louder. “God, that sound... makes me wanna ruin you right here.”

Mingi’s hand gripped your jaw, turning your head slightly even as San’s cock stayed buried in your throat. “Bet your cunt’s soaking, huh? Squeezing nothing but air.”

You couldn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Mingi’s fingers slid down your side, grazing over your ass as he murmured in your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll fix that real soon.”

San pulled out with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips. You gasped, swallowing air.

But you weren’t given long.

Mingi had already unzipped, dragging the thick length of his cock along your cheek before slapping it against your tongue.

“Let’s see if you can take both of us, angel,” he growled.

Mingi didn’t ease in the way San had. No warning. No gentle stroke. Just a firm grip on the back of your head and the heavy weight of his cock forcing past your lips, thick and hot and demanding.

“Keep your mouth open, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice gravelly. “Gonna fuck it the way you begged us to.”

San stood behind you now, watching—palms dragging slowly down the curve of your back to the swell of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh like he owned it.

And he did.

They both did.

Your throat protested as Mingi thrust deeper, one hand now fisted in your hair, the other guiding your jaw to take more. Drool spilled freely, strings of it falling to the floor, smearing across your chest as you choked and moaned around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “This mouth’s unreal. Wet little hole just begging to be ruined.”

Behind you, San dropped to one knee, his breath hot against your thighs.

“You hear her?” he said, voice thick with lust. “So wet I can smell it.”

Two fingers slid between your legs without warning, dragging through the mess dripping down your inner thighs.

Then—smack.

His palm landed hard on your ass. Once. Then again.

You whimpered, full of Mingi, unable to do anything but take it.

San laughed darkly. “She liked that.”

“Of course she did,” Mingi groaned. “Slut like this was made for it.”

Another slap.

San’s fingers returned, this time slipping between your folds, gathering the slick coating your cunt before bringing it to your puckered hole. He pressed, slow, teasing.

“You ever had both holes filled, angel?” he asked, dragging his tongue across the back of your thigh.

You gagged around Mingi’s cock as your body jerked, overwhelmed.

Mingi pulled out just long enough for you to breathe—and that’s when San struck.

Two fingers plunged into your pussy, curling immediately.

“Say it,” he growled in your ear. “Say you want both of us.”

“I—ah—fuck, yes—please,” you gasped, lips swollen, spit and cum slick on your chin. “Want both—please, San—please, Mingi—want it so bad—”

Mingi chuckled, mean and low. “Look at you. Begging to be split open. Your family's little traitor, getting face-fucked and dripping all over the floor like a whore.”

He slapped your face lightly, just enough to make you blink and gasp.

“Dirty little thing,” he spat. Literally. Onto your tongue. “Swallow it.”

You did.

And when you looked up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching—Mingi’s grin widened.

San was already unbuckling again, stroking his cock slow as he stood behind you, tip brushing the soaked seam of your cunt.

“This is gonna hurt, angel,” he murmured into your shoulder, aligning with no hesitation. “But you’re gonna take it. Because you said you wanted to walk away clean, right?”

He pushed in.

One thick inch after another, until your thighs trembled and your moans turned into desperate little sobs.

“Fuuuck—tight little pussy gripping me like she’s scared,” San hissed.

Your face fell forward against Mingi’s thigh as you tried to breathe, but the stretch, the pressure, the fullness—San was deep. So deep.

Then Mingi tapped your lips again.

“You’re not done, sweetheart,” he said, cock sliding along your cheek. “You’ve still got a mouth to fill.”

And just like that—you were trapped again.

Face full. Pussy full.

Used like they’d been planning it from the moment you walked in with your offer and your little whiskey glass.

San fucked you hard, steady. Deep strokes that made your legs shake.

Mingi held your face still, grunting as he used your throat like a toy.

You took it.

Like the good little traitor you were.

“You’re shaking,” San muttered against your shoulder, breath hot and full of mock sympathy. “Is it too much, baby?”

He didn’t slow down.

Not when his cock was buried to the hilt inside you, forcing needy cries from your mouth every time his hips slammed forward. Not even when Mingi shoved you down farther on his length, grip bruising at the sides of your face as you sputtered around him.

It was too much.

Your body didn’t know what to do—split open, gagging, crying, coming again and again. You were locked between them, wrecked, used, and still begging for more with every broken gasp.

“She’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight,” San growled, digging his fingers into your hips to slam himself deeper. “Like her cunt doesn’t wanna let me go.”

Your vision blurred. Your knees nearly gave.

Mingi laughed, low and cruel. “She’s crying. Look.”

He tilted your chin up, angling your face toward the mirror on the wall.

And there she was.

You.

Mascara streaked. Mouth red and puffy. Drool and tears all over your face, tits bouncing from the force of San's thrusts behind you.

Mingi pushed back in, down your throat again without mercy.

“She looks pretty like this,” he said, voice a rasp. “Mouth wide. Eyes wet. Body full.”

You moaned helplessly. The pain had long since blended with pleasure. It was fire. Electricity. The kind of fucking you didn’t walk away from the same.

San’s hand came around your throat.

“You asked for this, didn’t you?” he murmured. “Came in with your smart little mouth and your cold eyes—thought you could play with fire. Thought you could handle us.”

He squeezed. Just a little. Enough to make your next moan catch in your throat.

“You can handle us though, can’t you?” Mingi muttered as he pulled out with a slick pop, stroking himself in your tears. “Gonna take both now, baby. We’re not done.”

You barely nodded. Couldn’t even speak. Your body already twitched with another orgasm you hadn’t even realized was coming.

Then you felt it—San's cock sliding out of your soaked cunt, slick and hot against your thigh… and then lower.

“No—no wait—” you gasped.

“Shhh, angel,” he whispered, lining up with your ass. “Just breathe.”

Mingi kissed your temple mockingly. “You wanted both holes, didn’t you? Said it so sweet with my cock down your throat. Time to make good on that little promise.”

The stretch was unreal. Burning.

Your whole body seized as San slowly, relentlessly pushed in—while Mingi slid back inside your raw, used pussy like he belonged there.

Full.

Overwhelmed. Impaled.

You moaned.

The mirror blurred again with fresh tears, your body convulsing with overstimulation and pain and white-hot need.

“Oh my god—fuckfuckfuck—”

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Mingi groaned, bottoming out and grinding his hips forward. “So fucking deep.”

They moved in tandem now. A rhythm so punishing it left your thoughts in ruin.

Mingi fucking up into you while San split you open from behind.

“Can feel him,” Mingi growled, eyes dark and locked on your face. “Feel him inside through your pussy. You’re stuffed so full it’s crazy.”

You couldn’t hold it.

Your body locked up—spasmed—and then broke.

You came again, harder than ever, your whole form wracked with sobs as you squirted all over Mingi’s cock, soaking both of them, the floor, your thighs.

San groaned, filthy and breathless.

“Fuck— she just gushed all over me,” San groaned, hips stuttering. His voice was wrecked now, your walls clenched around them both. “She’s still fucking pulsing—god, I’m gonna—”

His voice broke off.

You felt it.

Hot. Sudden. Thick.

San’s hands dug into your hips as he buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside your ass with a ragged growl, body locked against yours, breath trembling as he painted your insides with thick heat.

“Fuck—fuck,” he breathed.

Mingi wasn’t far behind. He snarled something sharp in Korean you barely caught—tight little slut—before he was slamming in one last time, grinding his hips as his own release flooded you.

Two loads.

Deep inside.

One in your ass, one filling your pussy to the brim, so much it was already leaking out around their cocks, dripping down your thighs in messy streaks.

Your body gave out. Utterly limp. Muscles twitching in the aftermath.

They stayed there for a moment—San pressing his forehead to your back, Mingi brushing damp strands from your ruined face.

Then San pulled out with a low hiss.

“Goddamn,” he muttered.

Mingi followed, watching the mess leak from your pussy with a look of smug satisfaction.

“Full of us,” he murmured. “Just how we like it.”

You whimpered, still trembling as the overstimulation bled into exhaustion.

San stood and grabbed your chin, forcing your dazed gaze up toward him. “You still with us, sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly.

He chuckled. “Good. Because we’re not done talking.”

He helped you get up, not gently but not cruelly either. Mingi took the seat again, back to lazy posture and half-lidded eyes like he hadn’t just broken you open minutes ago.

San poured himself another drink. Lit a cigarette.

“Now,” he said, voice calm again, collected. “Jang’s main storage hub. You said you know the new route?”

You swallowed thickly, still panting. “Warehouse 39… by the docks. They rotate every five days. Next shift is tomorrow morning. 4 a.m.”

San nodded slowly. Mingi’s eyes sharpened.

“Names?” Mingi asked.

You gave them—three enforcers, one truck driver, a corrupt customs agent.

San blew out smoke toward the ceiling. “How’d you get this?”

“My brother’s burner phone,” you said, voice raw and barely audible. “He left it unlocked. Got sloppy.”

“And you just happened to be looking?”

“I was looking for anything that would keep me alive.”

Mingi smirked. “Smart girl.”

“Dangerous girl,” San corrected, eyes lingering on your wrecked body. “Traitor. Liar. But fuckable.”

You didn’t flinch.

“Still breathing, aren’t I?”

He laughed low. “Yeah. You are.”

Mingi stood and cracked his neck, eyes flicking toward San. “We move before sunrise. Hit the route before Jang even smells a rat.”

San looked back at you. “You’ll be in our custody ‘til it’s over. Insurance. Can’t have you slipping back to your side with a sweet little smile.”

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t.

Not with your thighs still slick from cum and your body barely holding together.

You just stood there, eyes half-lidded. Waiting. Wanting.

They would use you again. Soon. You knew it.

But for now… business came first.

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere