#i can't get enough of enemies to lovers fics

[kangshxrtie]

IRL LOADING | MEGAN SKIENDIEL

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ happy late birthday fic @zanaissante 💜 (this has been in my draft for months and is not proofread at all because my proofreaders abandoned me, but i just wanted to get this out of my drafts)

sypnosis — two streamers with widely different styles, a cozy gamer, and a chaotic fps streamer, unknowingly live next door to each other. pairing — streamer megan skiendiel x streamer reader trope/genre — one-sided enemies to lovers, fluff, idkmn includes — the rest of the katseye members, bang jeemin, park minju, sakai moka, and ryu sarang. word count — 9,411 words

you were live on stream, relaxing with a late-night stardew valley session when suddenly you heard loud shouting from the house next door, muffled but still impossible to ignore. you sighed, pausing your game for a moment. thankfully, your microphone wasn't sensitive enough to pick it up but loud enough to annoy you constantly.

you turned up your music, trying to drown out the loud noises, but every time your music would go quiet, the yelling crept back in. you knew they were gaming from the few words you could make it and by the sound of it they were losing.

you rolled your eyes, the frustration getting to you. "i swear, i hate my next-door neighbor so much," you muttered, leaning back in your chair as your character idly stood in the middle of the screen.

user1 are they still loud? user2 omg lmao what are they even doing user3 tell them off then?

you huffed, shaking your head. "like, i don't know what i did to deserve this, but they seem intent on keeping me up and pissing me off."

user4 yk damn well u weren't trying to sleep user5 bring us over when u confront them

"first of all," you said, glancing at the chat, "i was awake, but that's not the point. second, no, i'm not about to go knock on their door and tell them to shut up. do you think i wanna meet them?"

the yelling got louder for a split second, you could make out something about a headshot and a teammate being useless, and you groaned dramatically. "it can not be that serious!" you snapped, though, of course, they couldn't hear you.

user6 neighbor arc when? user7 chat, which neighbor are we rooting for? user8 can we pls get a neighbor face reveal??

you rolled your eyes again. "the only arc happening is me surviving the mines so i can go back home to my wife," you said, turning back to your screen. 

your chat continued to spam messages about your neighbor, but you tried your best to tune them out, focusing on the game. you guided your character deeper into the mines, dodging slimes and breaking rocks, all while silently praying the noise from next door would miraculously stop. it didn't.

another loud yell came through the wall, this time followed by what sounded like a fist hitting a desk or maybe a keyboard. you froze mid-swing in the game, your pickaxe suspended above a chunk of ore.

"sometimes i genuinely worry about them," you muttered, "are they okay over there, or is this just their normal gaming routine?"

user9 maybe they're speedrunning rage-quitting user10 chat, we're neighbors now. we live here too

you sighed, finally killing the slime in front of you. "honestly, chat, i can't even be that mad because i do lowkey get it but at the same time you can't be doing this every night."

user11 imagine they hear you complaining 👀

"no way they heard me," you said, half to yourself, half to chat. you tilted your head, listening, but the yelling had turned into muffled talking. at least they were quieter now, though you weren't sure if it was actually over.

you decided to let it go, for now, focusing back on your game. but as your character planted a bomb to clear a path, you heard a loud cheer from the room.

"are you kidding me?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "now they're celebrating? chat, i swear this is a personal attack."

user12 neighbor won!! gg wp user13 imagine they're streaming too rn lol user14 what if they're here rn 👀

you scoffed. "i'd ban them so fast if they were here." you leaned closer to the mic for dramatic effect. "dear neighbor i hope you see this and i'm happy you won or whatever but please for the love of god, let me live in peace please."

the chat lost it, spamming laughing emojis and memes about your imaginary "neighbor war." you sighed, shaking your head but unable to suppress a small smile.

you managed to go down a few more floors deeper, the soothing rhythm of the game finally starting to calm your nerves. the occasional joke about how your neighbor still popped up in the chat, but the yelling had died down.

you glanced at the clock on your desk noticing it was getting late, and even though you weren't particularly tired, you decided to wrap things up for the night.

"alright, chat, i think that's it for tonight. thanks for hanging out and being with me during my suffering. hopefully, they're done and i'll be able to sleep tonight." you paused, raising an eyebrow. "but knowing my luck, that probably won't happen."

the chat flooded with goodbyes and scatter emotes as you ended the stream, turning off everything in your setup, and putting your pc to sleep. you leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh. at least they're done screaming for the night, you thought, but a small part of you wondered who could be making all that noise.

you shrugged it off for the night and did your night routine before climbing into bed. it seemed the person next door also had the same thoughts as you and had turned off everything for the night. you scrolled aimlessly through social media and caught up on a few messages. when your phone buzzed with a low-battery warning, you lazily plugged it into the charger, tossing it onto the nightstand with a soft thud, finally going to sleep for the night.

"are you coming with us to twitchcon?" jeemin asked, leaning against your desk.

"why would i?" you replied, raising a brow.

"uh, maybe to meet your fans? network? collab opportunities?" she listed, giving you a pointed look.

"if i say no, does that make me a terrible person?"

"i mean, technically no, but let’s be real; our fans are gonna be super disappointed if everyone but you shows up," she said with a shrug.

you groaned dramatically, pushing yourself up from your chair. "fine. but only for two days, max."

"perfect! oh, and i made sure your station is right next to mine—"

"wait. i already have a station, even though i just agreed?" you interrupted, tilting your head.

"you think you just agreed, but actually, you agreed weeks ago," jeemin grinned. 

"you little—" you lunged at her, but she ran out of the room, shutting the door behind her before you could catch her.

sighing, you plopped back into your chair, deciding she wasn’t worth the chase, at least not right now.

that’s how you ended up at twitchcon and it actually ended up being not… terrible.

you’d spent most of the day at your booth, chatting with fans, signing stuff, and taking selfies. jeemin had been right—being surrounded by people who actually appreciated you was kind of nice. a little exhausting, sure, but still… kind of nice. you even caught yourself smiling without forcing it.

moka and sarang had dropped by with coffee and snacks, and minju kept stealing your sharpies to doodle on your sign-in board. fans came and went, some recognizing you instantly, others walking by and doing a dramatic double-take before squealing and rushing over. 

around mid-afternoon, jeemin popped back in, dragging you and your group toward one of the mid-sized panel rooms. “c’mon, c’mon, we got looped into some crossover panel thing. it’s streamer mixer whatever.”

you weren’t really listening, just following her because you didn’t really have any other option. when you got there, the panel room was already filling up, and a few familiar names were posted on the digital signage outside.

katseye.

you knew of them, of course. everyone did. six girls, viral group content, chaotic energy, and practically unbeatable in every twitch trivia or game-night stream collab they ever did. you’d seen clips of them before.

the moment you stepped into the room, your group found your seats along the side of the stage setup. across from you, the katseye girls were already settling in, laughing about something yoonchae had just said. she spotted you first and gave you a warm smile and a small wave. you nodded back.

you all greeted each other, but then, there was megan, who happened to be sitting right across from you.

“i’ve been wanting to meet you,” she said brightly. “your streams are so chill. like, perfect background noise while i’m editing.”

“uh. thanks?”

“no, i mean that in a good way! like—soothing. you sound like a podcast host who secretly hates people.”

you raised an eyebrow, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. “cool.”

“you’re kinda like the human version of beige. but like, cozy beige.”

“beige?” you paused.

“yeah! you give off that neutral, calm vibe,” megan nodded enthusiastically. 

“beige,” you stared at her. 

“like i said—cozy beige!”

“i swear to god if one more person calls me beige—” you rolled your eyes.

“oh my god. that made you mad?” megan’s eyes lit up as you didn’t respond.

“you are beige, but like, spicy beige,” she grinned wider. 

and that, somehow, was the start of your personal hell.

megan and y/n fighting/flirting at the streamer q&a panel

“okay! first question—what’s your biggest streaming pet peeve?” the moderator asked.

you grabbed your mic. “people who are too loud on the mic. like… calm down, we can hear you.”

“was that about me?” megan immediately whipped her head around. 

“if you felt like it was, it was.” you didn’t even look at her. 

“wow. so brave of you to call me out when you look like you'd apologize to a tree if you bumped into it.” megan gasped, hand to her chest. 

“i have apologized to a tree before. it was being more useful than you,” you side-eyed her. 

“are they flirting or fighting?” yoonchae asked the group. yoonchae asking the important questions.

“yes,” sarang simply responded.

“have you ever rage quit on stream?” a fan asked.

“once. but i muted, ended stream politely, and just closed my laptop. like a normal person.” you said.

“i’ve thrown a controller and screamed into a pillow while my mic was still on,” megan turned to you. “we’d balance each other out, you know?”

“absolutely not,” you said.

“it’s giving opposites attract,” yoonchae said.

the audience was all screaming.

“should we leave so y'all can kiss or—” sarang looked around.

“no!” you exclaimed.

user1 someone tell them this is twitchcon not love island: streamer edition user2 someone get them a couple channel user3 y/n: 😐 megan: 😏

“if you had to be in a stream house with three people from this panel, who are you picking?” a fan asked.

“easy. yoonchae, lara… and y/n,” megan answered.

“i would fake my death within a week,” you immediately shot back, 

“great! we could make it a stream arc—‘y/n goes missing: day 4,’” megan smiled. 

“should i be worried or are you two just always like this?” the moderator laughed. “this is them… after knowing each other for an hour,” sarang said into her mic. “imagine a week,” jeemin cut in.

“do any of you have secret streamer crushes?” a fan asked.

“should i say it or keep the mystery alive?” megan slowly turned to look at you. 

“say it and i walk off this stage,” you said. 

“so dramatic. that’s why i like you,” megan smiled sweetly. 

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear that,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. 

“you're not denying it though…” moka looked at you. “so when’s the wedding?” sarang asked.

“we should’ve made this panel r-rated, there’s so much tension,” sophia said to the moderator.

“last one—if you had to be stuck in a collab for 24 hours with someone on this panel, who would it be?” the moderator asked.

“literally anyone except megan,” you said, without even thinking about it.

megan clutched her heart. “you wound me.” then, she smiled way too sweetly. “i’d still pick you.”

“why?” you looked at her in disbelief. 

“it’s fun watching you try not to like me,” megan shrugged. 

the entire room lost it.

“no, because y’all are soulmates,” lara said, not even trying to hold back her laughter.

“please don’t ever wish anything like that on me,” you said.

user5 they’re so married user6 i need a cam angle just on them pls user7 they think we’re joking but we’re already editing their wedding video rn

throughout the panel, she wouldn’t stop talking to you—whispering jokes during questions, making weird eye contact, and poking fun at the serious way you answered things. every time she made a jab, you shot her a look. every time you glared, she just giggled harder.

to everyone else, it looked like harmless banter. to you, it felt like emotional whiplash.

by the time the panel ended, the chat had already started blowing up. even though you weren’t streaming, someone was, and clips were spreading fast. megan teasing you, you glaring at her, her dramatically gasping and pretending to be offended.

“oh my god,” jeemin said, nudging you, “you and megan are like a sitcom.”

“i cannot stand her,” you grumbled, grabbing your water bottle.

“she loves you, though,” sarang said, half-laughing. “you’re her new toy.”

“she can find another one.”

“she won’t.”

“too late. there’s already an edit of you two arguing with romantic music in the background,” moka said, like she could already see the edits in her head.

“this is my villain origin story,” you groaned loudly.

from across the room, megan caught your eye and waved cheerfully.

you turned away and jeemin just laughed like shit was funny. “you’re so cooked.”

“can we leave soon?” you asked. “unfortunately, not. there’s still more to the panel,” minju said. “i’m gonna kill myself on this stage,” you groaned as you slid into your seat.

“i mean, imagine the views,” moka said. “no, don’t encourage her,” sarang said. “i mean, no, don’t kill yourself,” moka said. you just groaned again in response. you thought that day would be the end of it. you and megan didn’t really have a reason to overlap, you didn’t play similar games, you gave off different vibes, and you didn’t think you had a similar audience, and people would just forget about the situation. oh, how wrong you were.

the next day, you were hanging out at moka’s station for her mini meet and greet, helping manage the line and chatting with a few fans who recognized you.

“your cozy streams are literally the only reason i finish my homework,” one fan told you. “thank you for single-handedly saving my gpa,” another added with a laugh.

“honestly, if i’m your academic lifeline, we’re both cooked,” you joked, posing for a selfie with them.

after a few more photos and quick conversations, you stepped to the side to grab a drink, and that’s when you spotted them. manon, sophia, daniela, megan, lara, and yoonchae. all casually walking toward you like they weren’t as famous as they were.

“we should collab,” manon said brightly as she approached.

“i’d be so down,” you replied.

“collab with me first, though,” sophia cut in.

“well,” you said, playing along, “my loyalties lie with the person who asked first.”

“lowkey, i’d collab with all of you,” you added. “we just gotta make it happen.”

“what about me?” megan asked suddenly as she stepped forward.

“what about you?” you looked at her.

“so you’ll collab with my roommates, but not me?” megan said, raising a brow. “you know we play the same games, right?”

“i never had a problem with the games you play,” you said coolly. “my problem is with you.”

“i see how it is,” megan nodded, not even pretending to be offended.

“i’ve been telling you how it is,” you shot back.

“you two are seriously unreal,” daniela muttered.

“no, like—is this foreplay or are we fighting?” lara added, squinting at both of you with mock suspicion.

“it’s hard to tell,” yoonchae said under her breath, but not quietly enough.

you opened your mouth to respond, but megan spoke first.

“don’t worry, she only talks to me like this because she’s obsessed with me.”

“obsessed with making sure i never share a stream with you,” you corrected, smiling sweetly.

“oop,” sophia whispered, sipping from a water bottle.

“so when’s the wedding?” manon said with a smirk.

“you guys are worse than my chat,” you groaned.

“your chat ships it too?” daniela asked, eyes lighting up.

“unfortunately,” you said. “they’re like ‘the chaos x cozy arc goes crazy’ like please stop it’s not happening.”

“that’s so cute,” megan said, tilting her head mockingly. “almost makes me want to be nice to you.”

“don’t strain yourself,” you deadpanned.

“okay, but seriously,” sophia said, trying to keep it together, “if you did collab, the internet would lose its mind.”

“i’d rather collab with a creeper in minecraft,” you muttered.

“so that’s a yes,” megan grinned.

“can you not hear?” “all i heard was yes,” “you gotta get whatever is wrong with you figured out,” you said. “i think you could fix all my problems,” megan said. “yeah i’m leaving” you said as you turned around. “megan scaring away the hoes,” lara joked. “she likes that about me,” megan said.

the rest of the con went fine. thankfully, your schedules barely overlapped, so you didn’t have to see megan again.

which, in your mind, meant the bit was over.

except it wasn’t.

because the moment you went live back home, your chat had one thing on their minds.

“why do y’all want me to collab with megan so bad?” you asked, already exhausted. “we don’t even play the same games.”

user1 because of the potential user2 we see what you won’t user3 give the people what they want

meanwhile, over on megan’s stream: 

“i’ll collab with y/n. i’m just waiting on her to agree,” she said with a shrug.

user4 do u like her y/n “if i say yes, do you think she’ll finally accept?” megan replied, grinning.

user5 you should just show up in one of her games

“i think that would make her hate me more,” megan laughed.

user6 we won’t snitch “y’all, i swear i’m trying,” she said. “but i can’t force her to do it.”

user7 plssss we need this

back on your stream, you rolled your eyes.

“i hope megan knows i’m not falling for any of this,” you said flatly.

user8 what’d she do this time? i’m employed.

“there’s a clip of her doing a full-on proposal for our collab,” you deadpanned. “i’ll just pull it up here so y’all don’t have to go interact with it yourselves.”

you dragged the clip onto the screen and hit play—megan on her stream, down on one knee with a ring pop and dramatic background music, asking you to be her “stream partner in crime.”

you blinked at your own screen. “…she’s ridiculous.”

user9 and u love it user10 just marry her atp user11 the chaos x cozy arc continues

“y’all are fucking crazy,” you mumbled at your chat encouraging this behavior.

you were walking back toward your house, casually flipping through the mail, when you suddenly heard your name being called.

“y/n!”

you paused, confused. everyone you knew in this neighborhood was currently inside your house—so who the hell could be calling you?

“y/n!” the voice echoed again, this time to your right. you looked up, and your eyes landed on a familiar face walking toward you.

“ain’t no way,” you muttered.

“i thought that was you,” megan said with a grin, finally close enough for you to see her clearly.

“do you… live there?” she asked, pointing at your house.

“umm… yeah,” you said slowly, still processing.

“that’s crazy. i live right there,” she said, gesturing at the house next door. the house you’ve been building a silent, growing hatred for over the past few months because of your loud neighbor, which makes so much sense now.

“i see,” you replied, resisting the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes.

“can’t believe we’ve never run into each other before,” megan said, hands on her hips.

“yeah. that’s so crazy,” you deadpanned.

“this makes our collab way easier now,” she added with a bright smile.

“who said i agreed to a collab?” you asked, brow raised.

“you should. people love seeing us together,” megan shrugged.

“well, i don’t like being seen with you,” you fired back.

“y’know, you really do hurt me sometimes, y/n,” megan said, mock-offended.

“too bad i really don’t care,” you said, completely unfazed.

“i’m starting to think you actually mean that,” megan said with a pout.

“because i do,” you replied.

“mhm,” megan nodded like she hadn’t heard a single word, still smiling.

“well, if we’re done here, i’m leaving,” you sighed. 

you turned and headed for your door, not giving her a chance to respond.

“see you later, y/n!” she shouted after you.

“i hate my fucking life!” you yelled as you slammed the door behind you.

“wait… megan as in megan-megan?” moka asked, sitting up straighter.

“streamer megan? chinese ginger, megan? beef-at-twitchcon megan?” minju added.

“yes! all of the above!” you cried.

“you mean to tell me... katseye lives next door?” sarang gasped dramatically. 

“deadass.”

“this is amazing,” moka whispered.

“no, this is a nightmare,” you corrected.

“what did she say?” minju covered her mouth, trying and failing not to laugh. 

“she asked if i lived here, then told me she lives next door like it was the funniest thing ever. and then… she tried to act like this means our collab is suddenly destiny or something.”

“she’s not wrong,” sarang muttered.

“don’t you start.” you turned towards her.

“oh, i’m starting. i’m just like chat now,” sarang said smugly.

“no,” you warned.

“yes,” moka grinned, already opening twitter. “and if you don’t collab, i will start tweeting about how you're ignoring your soulmate.”

“if you start encouraging those people, i swear i’m ending it all,” you groaned, flopping face-down into a throw pillow.

“no, don’t kill yourself,” jeemin chimed in, casually walking into the living room with a snack. “you’re too pretty.”

you slowly lifted your head. “…thanks, i guess?”

“plus, if you died, megan would totally dedicate a stream to you, and i feel like that would haunt you more than the afterlife,” jeemin added, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“can you imagine the title?” minju said. “‘a tribute to the one that got away.’”

“no. no, absolutely not,” you said, horrified. “she’d put sad lo-fi over a compilation of us arguing.”

“honestly? that’d slap,” moka said. “i’d retweet.”

“why are you all like this?” you groaned, dragging the pillow over your face.

“because we care,” sarang said sweetly, patting your back.

“we just want to see this all happen live,” minju added.

“this is a sick friend group,” you sat up, glaring at all of them.

“sick with love,” moka said dramatically, clutching her chest.

“i’m moving,” you said.

“go ahead,” jeemin said. “just know you can’t deny fate.”

“god, i hate this timeline,” you muttered.

“you mean the one where you're the main character in a fanfic happening in real life?” sarang teased, and you threw a pillow at her.

the next day, you were immediately on stream, ready to rant to them as soon as your stream starting soon screen went away.

"y’all—funny story. i met my next-door neighbor yesterday," you started.

user1 the one you hate??? user2 did you finally cuss her out??

"no listen—when i say i meant that shit before, i mean it even more now," you said, leaning closer to the mic. "she’s still annoying as hell and needs to either quiet that shit down or invest in soundproof walls immediately."

user3 a woman??? user4 okay but… was she pretty? 👀

"it’s megan, bro. i leave that damn convention just to come home and deal with her more," you groaned. "there’s no escape."

user5 meant to be ❤️ user6 she doesn’t even realize what she just unleashed by telling us this

"y’all need to chill because i’m not willingly collabing with that girl,” you rolled your eyes.

user7 get peer pressureduser8 we js want content 🫶

"i should’ve never said anything," you muttered as you buried your face in your hands. "y’all are wild."

user9 how many gifted subs user0 anyway when’s the collab?

you stared at the screen for a long moment.

“…i hate all of you,” you whispered.

and the clip was already going viral within an hour.

you were in a situation. manon and sophia both asked you to join a 2v2 with some other people, and you said yes without even thinking—because now, you were in a discord server with manon, sophia, minju, jeemin and megan.

“i don’t even think i have any of those games downloaded,” you said.

“well, download them so we can play,” manon replied.

“what if my internet just goes out?” you tried.

“you can just come over, we have an extra room,” sophia offered casually.

“i really wish i never found out we lived next door to each other,” you sighed, already regretting everything. still, you ended up downloading the games anyway while everyone else got situated.

eventually, it was time to split into teams, and sophia insisted on using a wheel to make it fair. you were picked first. all you could do was sit there in silence, praying the wheel would land on somebody good. but then, it landed on megan.

“i’m leaving,” you said immediately.

“this is perfect,” jeemin cheered.

“i’ve been set up,” you muttered.

“this wasn’t even on purpose, but i like how this turned out,” sophia said, clearly way too amused.

“why am i the only one who has to suffer?” you asked.

“come on, y/n, i’ll carry you,” megan said confidently.

“i’ve lived next door to you for months, and i don’t think i’ve ever once heard you yell because you won,” you shot back.

“not gonna lie, she kinda ate you up with that,” manon laughed.

“nahh, trust—i’m just always loud,” megan grinned.

“oh, i know,” you deadpanned.

but despite your protests, you stayed. mostly because you felt bad ditching everyone after already agreeing to play. the other teams ended up being sophia with manon, and jeemin with minju.

“if anything, i’m the one who’s cooked, because y/n doesn’t even play fortnite,” megan pointed out.

“i had a fortnite phase back in the day,” you admitted.

“don’t you play stuff like stardew valley and animal crossing?” megan asked.

“and occasionally league, because minju loves to torture me,” you added.

“i promise it’s fun,” minju said.

“she keeps saying that, but i’ve never once had fun playing league,” you said.

“it’ll get fun eventually,” minju insisted.

eventually, everyone got the game up and running, and after adding each other, you joined a private lobby sophia made for a specific fortnite mode.

“i mean, round one begins—i’d vote for the weapons,” sophia said.

“okay, i’ll vote blue, okay okay,” megan chimed in.

“okay, let’s go in the same circle,” manon added.

“perfect, perfect,” you agreed.

“can we pick up weapons or not?” minju asked.

“yeah, yeah,” you said.

“yeah, we have weapons,” jeemin confirmed.

“what button is my—oh, there it is,” you mumbled, finally finding your loadout.

“oh god, there’s building,” manon said, already overwhelmed.

“i don’t know how to build,” jeemin added.

“i hate building,” sophia grumbled.

“building is actually so cringe,” minju said flatly.

meanwhile, you were too busy breaking the bottom of their towers, watching them fall as you shot from below like it was nothing.

“wait, so who’s alive now?” megan asked.

“i’m dead,” jeemin replied.

you pushed up on sophia and manon, who were panicking and building walls around themselves like it would save them.

“um, hey, you guys are still in the storm,” you pointed out.

“wait, is it just me? i can’t see who’s left,” megan said.

“oh—i found them!” megan called as the two of you descended, unleashing a spray of bullets.

apparently, you and megan were the only two people who actually knew how to build, and it showed. the way you both built and outmaneuvered the others was almost unfair.

“this is sick,” minju said while spectating.

“megan actually knows how to build!” manon cried, fighting for her life.

you and megan cleaned them up and won that round easily.

“i still got it!” megan shouted.

“alright, minju—you have to build now. i don’t know what i’m doing,” jeemin said, already stressed.

“yeah, i can do that,” minju agreed.

“these guns are not good. i think,” manon muttered.

you and megan began collecting weapons for the next round.

“oh, you got the sword,” you said, eyeing it.

“here, you can have it. i don’t know what to do with it,” megan said, dropping it.

“wait—really?” you blinked.

“you got that,” she replied.

the next round kicked off.

“oh my god, you built me in! i’m in the storm!” jeemin screamed.

“sorry! i didn’t realize,” minju said quickly.

“okay,” sophia cut in, “everyone needs to go into separate calls. we’re playing until round ten and that’s it.”

“where are they?” megan asked you.

“they’re still in the storm,” you said.

you and megan won that round too. no surprise there.

“they’re so mad,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

“mad and bad,” megan added smugly.

“i’ve just been building and editing—i didn’t even know i could still do that,” you said.

“i swear it’s like muscle memory once you remember the buttons,” megan agreed.

“you just keep taking the best guns,” you said.

“i mean, it is what it is. someone’s gotta carry us,” megan said with a smirk.

“wait, how do i fly?” you asked no one in particular as the next round began. you fiddled with your sword until you finally launched yourself across the map, landing behind the structure.

you accidentally swung the sword midair behind the enemy but missed. no one noticed.

“oh—oops,” you mumbled.

“oh, you’re just in,” megan said as you finally downed jeemin, then minju when she ran over.

you locked in, aiming carefully. “they’re below you,” you told megan as you shot to cover her.

“now they’re above you—actually, hold on, i don’t know who’s who,” you said, squinting.

“i don’t know where they’re at,” megan said.

“i’m coming up to you,” you told her, quickly building toward her position.

together, you finished off the last two.

“i’m trying to figure out how to do things,” megan muttered.

“i just wanna use material and i keep attacking with the sword for some reason,” you said.

“i don’t know if this is gonna be fair,” megan said with a slight laugh.

“i mean… yeah,” you agreed as the round loaded up.

“okay, so maybe we just get—” megan started.

“i’m just gonna go above them,” you finished for her.

“we’re literally just better than them,” megan said, locking in.

“i’m just above them,” you said as you laughed, raining shots down.

“wait—holy shit!” megan yelled as she got jumped.

“i think i kinda like building now,” you said as you stayed high up, watching the chaos below.

“one’s below us,” you warned.

“i might be in danger,” megan said.

“nah, you got it,” you said casually.

“i’m just gonna pop a little—” megan mumbled, healing behind cover.

suddenly, manon joined your voice chat.

“hey guys, we’re implementing a new rule: you’re not allowed to build with anything other than wood,” she announced.

you and megan burst out laughing right as you landed the final shot, winning again.

“okay, okay—nothing other than wood, right?” you asked.

“okay yeah, i mean—i don’t know if it’s gonna change anything but,” megan said, trying not to laugh.

“don’t worry about it. it’s fine, sweetheart,” you said cheekily. “literally just games for fun.”

you and megan continued dominating through round after round.

“okay, that was easy,” megan said. “that was pretty good.”

“yeah, i think they’re starting to get their placements now,” you said.

“so… one more?” megan asked.

“yeah. i think this is the last game,” you said, ready to finish things off

“okay, um… jeemin’s gonna do the same thing—build and survive—and we’ll pickaxe her to death,” megan announced.

“i feel like you’re not gonna do that,” you replied while laughing.

“there’s people crying in my chat right now,” you said, glancing at your screen. “they’re so upset. “they’re like, ‘guys, stop being so cracked at the game!’” “it must be tough being good at everything,” megan teased. “like, sorry we’re amazing?”

“okay okay,” you said. “if we’re just in the middle, everyone’s gonna push us instantly.”

“all right, here we go—oops,” megan muttered.

“if i use the glider, do i just walk off the edge with it? is that how it works?” megan asked.

“yeah... well, i actually don’t know,” you admitted. “i don’t really use the glider.” “cool. great,” megan said. “guess i’m about to fall.”

“oh—our build is being shot down!” megan shouted. “it’s pretty thick though, not gonna lie,” you said. “we’re both still up—okay that’s good.”

“they’re merciless,” megan yelled. “ah—this is my glider—no!” “did it not work?” you asked. “i’m down,” you said.

“i’m coming down,” megan said. “wait—are you below?” “yeah, yeah—you can rez me. i’m underneath in the zone—they don’t know.” megan rezzed you safely.

“i have a chug! let me use it now,” you told her.

“okay, nice,” she said. 

“this thing chugs way slower than i remember. we gotta get a move on,” you said.

“boom—oh, someone just fell,” megan said.

“i think it’s down to the last two teams,” you added.

“darn it—i’m bad,” she muttered.

“where are they?” you asked. “wait—i thought they were... oh yeah. they’re right next to me. down below.”

“they’re shooting at you,” megan said.

“i’m gonna try and pickaxe them,” megan said confidently.

“well, well, well,” minju sighed as she suddenly joined your call. “if it isn’t the pickaxer herself.”

“they’re right above me, and they just keep staring at you,” megan whispered from behind enemy lines.

“they don’t even know,” you murmured, eyes locked on the build.

“oh my god—who is this?” megan cackled as she pickaxed someone completely oblivious to her presence.

still laughing, she continued swinging wildly at another player who was jumping around cluelessly.

“what is happening?” sophia wheezed through her mic.

“yeah, that’s funny,” megan said, finally catching her breath.

“okay, that was good. that was pretty good,” you said, grinning.

“alright, it’s over—time to die,” megan announced gleefully as she leapt down into the chaos.

“might be about that time,” you agreed, loading your last clip.

“this is just messed up,” manon muttered from another call.

“sooo… is it over?” megan asked. “or like—is there another round?”

“congratulations, you guys,” sophia said, mock-bitter.

“ggs, ggs,” jeemin added, exhausted.

“y/n and megan are literally unstoppable. i hate it here,” minju groaned.

“what can i say?” megan said smugly. “we build. we shoot. we conquer.”

“it’s called teamwork,” you added. “or trauma bonding. one of those.”

you all moved on to the next game: golf with your friends. for this one each team’s total strokes were added together and whoever had the lowest combined score won. 

“alright, what’s the plan here?” manon asked as the first hole loaded in. 

“figure out your own strat,” megan replied immediately.

“bitch,” manon muttered.

“fuck, why didn’t i jump there?” jeemin groaned.

“i’m sad i didn’t get it in one,” minju sighed.

“it looked so easy, too,” sophia added.

despite a few stumbles, most of you made it in with one or two hits. a clean par.

next hole.

“okay, this one’s free,” you said, eyeing the map. “just two hills and a straight shot. easy hole-in-one.”

“how much power though?” jeemin asked.

“didn’t get the one,” manon reported. “took me two.”

jeemin finally figured out the angle, but just as she was about to roll in. “who the fuck—minju?!”

“that was me. my bad,” minju admitted.

“easy hole-in-one,” sophia cheered as she sank hers.

“so easy,” megan echoed smugly.

“ugh, fine, 2.5 power,” minju said, lining up. “too much!”

you took your shot with a clean 2.0—hole-in-one.

“oh, you can jump that,” sophia said as the next hole loaded.

“wait, we can jump?” manon asked, trying it—and missing. “i’m tilted.”

“megan’s got three hole-in-ones in a row,” you pointed out.

“tried to tell y’all she has, like, 500 hours in this game,” manon said.

“i don’t,” megan replied, way too casually.

“2.5 is too much!” jeemin yelled as she overshot again.

“way too much,” you echoed.

“would love it if someone knocked me in right about now,” minju muttered, stuck just outside the hole.

“i got you!” jeemin said, lining up—then immediately shouted, “oh my god, minju!”

when you reached the hole, you just saw both of their balls sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the cup.

“we take those,” you said, tapping in for par.

the next map loaded.

“this one’s so simple,” megan said confidently, eyeing the layout.

“haha, you’re stupid,” sophia said after megan immediately missed the shot.

“oh my god, i got it!” jeemin shouted.

“what’s the power?” minju asked.

“2.5 always,” jeemin declared.

“oh my god, i hit megan,” minju groaned mid-shot.

you moved on after everyone finally got in.

“oof, this one looks rough,” sophia said, eyeing the new map.

“it’s jumpable, right?” megan asked.

“it’s not jumpable, stop lying to me,” manon said.

“it is jumpable,” you said as you made it in. “you just jump right before the spike.”

“you can’t help the enemies,” megan scolded. “why’d i actually forget we’re on different teams?” you laughed. “damn,” sophia muttered after bouncing off the wall.

“that was a weird angle,” manon said, spectating with a grin.

“you hate to see it,” sophia sighed, realizing everyone else had already made it in.

“is this salvageable?” manon asked.

“for sure,” megan said just as sophia launched completely off course again.

“oh no…” sophia groaned.

“again,” minju deadpanned.

sophia shot again… and missed. again.

“ooh yeah, one more time,” minju laughed.

“please, sophia, get it together. i know you’re not drunk,” megan said.

“this is actually insane,” jeemin said.

“this map is not mapping,” sophia huffed.

“who is cackling like that?” manon wheezed. “it’s not that funny!”

“no fucking way,” sophia whispered after seeing her name at the very bottom of the leaderboard.

you all moved onto the next hole.

“yeah, just a little nudge,” jeemin said.

“ahhh—jeemin why the fuck would you hit me out?!” minju shrieked after getting bumped mid-shot.

“i’m playing defense,” jeemin laughed.

“we’re on the same team!” minju cried.

“it was an accident!” jeemin tried to apologize, still giggling.

“i demand two points taken off my score,” minju grumbled as she lined up again—then undershot the easiest shot of the round.

“did you even hit your ball?” manon asked through laughter.

“i should’ve had that in way less,” minju muttered. “but nooo—jeemin had to go full contact.”

on the second to late hole, it was setup to be a simple one shot if not for the speed pads in the way.

“this one’s easy—you just jump it,” you said confidently.

“oh, that went so far,” manon said after launching across the map.

“fuck—i didn’t jump,” megan said..

“one job,” you said flatly.

“yeah, way too hard,” minju added.

“i’m gonna kill myself,” manon said dramatically as her ball got stuck bouncing between pads.

you waited, watching the mess unfold, before finally taking your shot.

“eughh. i’m good,” you said as you maneuvered over the pads, carefully jumping your way through.

“that’s crazy,” jeemin said from the other side of the hole. she had just rolled straight over it and landed right in front of you.

“after you,” you offered, not wanting to mess up your shot.

“jump it,” jeemin dared you.

and if there’s one thing you don’t do—it’s back down from a dare. you lined up, jumped and overshot it completely.

“y/n?” sophia asked, stunned.

you just laughed.

“you did that on purpose jeemin,” megan accused.

you worked your way back, nearly getting it in four, missed by inches, then sank it on five.

“i overcompensated for jeemin’s ball,” you said with a sigh.

on the final hole there was a speed pad that would safely carry your ball to a second building… but of course, the group was focused on skipping it.

“no—how did you make it over and i didn’t?!” sophia complained.

“i can jump! yes—logs, bring me to my friends!” minju shouted as rolling logs gently carried her across the map.

“this is doable. totally possible,” manon hyped herself up… then immediately slammed into a wall. “okay, i’m gonna fucking—"

“i got baited,” sophia moaned. “i saw megan do it, now i can’t.”

eventually, one by one, everyone made it in.

in the end, the final scores shook out like this:

megan took first with a clean 38, manon followed in second with 40, you landed third at 44, jeemin placed fourth with 46, minju came in fifth at 48, and sophia, well… she rounded it out in last with 67.

when the team totals were tallied: you and megan took first with a combined 82, jeemin and minju trailed behind in second at 94, and manon and sophia came in last with a whopping 107.

“sophia… what happened?” manon asked, eyebrows raised, genuinely confused.

“yeah, yeah—it just wasn’t my day,” sophia sighed, already leaning back in defeat.

“it never is with that aim,” megan added with a smirk.

“you’re lucky we weren’t playing for money,” sophia muttered.

“i could only carry us so far,” manon said with a dramatic shrug.

“we were actually so close though,” minju said, staring at the scores.

“i hate to say it… but me and megan do make a pretty good team,” you admitted.

“she admits she likes me,” megan said immediately, beaming.

“i ain’t say all that now,” you shot back.

“but there’s a chance i’m convincing you,” megan teased.

“i just said you’re not bad at games,” you said.

“i could show you how good i am if you played with me more,” megan said.

“she’s getting a little too cocky. i gotta go,” you said already ready to turn off your computer.

“we have to run that back,” jeemin cut in.

“as long as i’m on the same team as y/n, i’m down,” megan grinned.

“we can definitely make that happen,” manon said.

“why do you insist on torturing me?” you groaned.

“just giving the people what they want,” manon replied.

you weren’t really sure how it happened, but eventually everyone left the call—except you and megan. you probably should’ve left way earlier, but now that you thought about it, you didn’t actually have a real problem with her. in fact, the way you two talked was kind of… fun. maybe everyone was onto something. maybe you and megan would make great friends.

“the rest of my members are loud, but you only hate me?” megan asked.

“yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“sophia and dani are literally louder than me.”

“i never said i hated loud people. i just don’t like you,” you shrugged.

“maybe it should’ve been you and yoonchae instead.”

“i heard yoonchae doesn’t like you either, so you might be right.”

“okay, but now yoonchae loves me. that’ll be us soon.”

“god forbid,” you said like it was the worst-case scenario.

megan just laughed in response.

“wait, y/n—can we play this game that keeps popping up on my steam page?” she asked.

“what’s it called?”

“i’m about to send it to you.”

you clicked the link she sent and stared at the page.

“why are you trying to make me play a crypto mining game?”

“this isn’t crypto mining,” megan said, already laughing.

“this game looks so sus.”

“i’m pretty sure it’s fine!”

“why are y’all still here?” sophia’s voice suddenly cut in.

“we’re about to play another game,” megan replied.

“sophia, help me. she’s trying to make me play some crypto mining game,” you said.

“i keep saying it’s not crypto mining!” megan said, half-laughing, half-defensive.

“this game is definitely gonna be running mining software in the background,” you muttered.

“i thought it looked cute,” megan pouted.

“for the sake of both of our computers, we should probably play something else.”

“i’m fine with anything… as long as it’s with you,” megan said smoothly.

“don’t flirt with me,” you warned.

“i’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then,” sophia said. honestly, you’d kind of forgotten she was still in the call.

“wait… megan, can we play gta?” you asked, already opening the game.

“that’s your game of choice for tonight?” she laughed.

“yes. i haven’t played in forever and it just updated. i wanna see what’s new.”

“i mean, yeah man,” megan agreed. “let’s see if you’re actually good at it though.”

“please,” you scoffed. “i have so many hours on this game for a reason.”

once you loaded into gta online, it was pure, unfiltered chaos. explosions rang out in the distance, npcs screamed in panic, and you barely spawned before someone tried to run you over. some random guy in global chat was yelling at somebody and trying to kill them.

you and megan somehow landed in a street race.

“this is the time when you wanna put all your points on the line,” she told her stream, sounding like a dramatic sports commentator.

of course you won the race, causing everybody who actually voted for megan to lose their points.

“i’m so sorry to everyone who believed in me,” megan said flatly, groaning as the results popped up. “that was actually embarrassing.”

“skill issue, honestly.”

you kept teasing her even after you exited the race, so she walked up and shot you in the back of the head, so casually.

“oh, it’s like that?” you said, respawning.

“i didn’t know it would kill you!” she laughed.

“no, no—it’s personal now.”

that one bullet kicked off a full-on vendetta. the next hour turned into a mess of one-sided assassinations and high-speed chases between just the two of you. she blew up your car. you put a bounty on her head. neither of you could stop laughing.

“somebody just said, ‘y/n’s so hot,’” you read aloud from your stream chat, breathing hard from surviving a three-star police chase. “buddy, now is not the time.”

“i mean,” megan said, “i kind of agree.”

“don’t flirt with me right now. i’m trying to kill you.”

“sorry, sorry,” she said, chuckling. “but that just makes you hotter.”

at some point, the chaos around you got worse. some sniper kept picking you off as soon as you spawned. you and megan silently agreed on a ruce just to hunt them down. it was weird how easily the teamwork clicked. you flanked while she drew fire. you covered while she reloaded. you didn’t even have to speak half the time.

then you bought a helicopter to finally get the upper hand on everyone.

“let me drive,” megan said.

“god help us.”

everything was fine for about two minutes—until she asked, “what does g do?”

before you could even respond, the helicopter jolted midair and nosedived into a mountain. it exploded on impact.

you stared at your screen, dead silent.

“…megan,” you said, monotone. “what the fuck did you do with my helicopter?”

“i was just pressing buttons! you didn’t say not to press g!”

“i didn’t think i had to!”

“i didn’t know it was the self-destruct!” she cackled.

“oh my god. we’re family friendly over here,” you muttered, jaw clenched. “but i’m about to break something.”

“it’s fine, you can just spawn another—”

“i can’t. it’s gone. i can’t even call it back.”

“okay okay, i’ll steal someone else’s.”

hours passed, but it didn’t feel like it. you robbed convenience stores, broke into military bases, ran from the cops on motorbikes. there were moments you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts from how hard you were both laughing.

“you’re actually cracked at these type of games,” megan admitted at one point.

“you’re just saying that because i carried.”

“and because you look hot when you’re focused,” she added.

“have you had my stream pulled up this whole time?” you asked. “i just had to make sure you weren’t talking shit about me,” megan said. “oh—you didn’t have to do that megan. i would’ve just told you,” you said. “i also just like looking over at you now, i could get used to this,” megan said.

“you’re so unserious,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

but… you didn’t necessarily hate it anymore.

you didn’t realize how long you'd been playing until the city on your screen went quiet and megan yawned on the other end of the call.

“damn. what time is it?” she mumbled.

you glanced at your phone. “almost four.”

she went quiet. “we’ve really been on here that long?”

“guess so.”

“why was that actually fun?”

you didn’t answer right away. your character stood on top of some random apartment building, the pixelated city lights stretching behind.

“…i don’t know,” you said. “but we should do it again.”

“next time i won’t blow up your helicopter,” megan’s voice was soft through the mic.

“you’re not even touching my helicopter next time.”

“that’s what you think,” megan said. “night, megan,” you said.

“goodnight, y/n.”

that one night had changed everything. you and megan started gaming together more—sometimes on stream, sometimes just the two of you. she kept up the teasing, still flirty as ever, but now you threw it right back. and every time she got flustered, you made sure to point it out.

your chat ate it up. they called it the ultimate enemies-to-lovers arc. said they’d been right about you two from the beginning. if you were being honest you also enjoyed how your dynamic was now.

like right now, you were telling a story about last night on stream.

“so i was just trying to sleep last night, right? and here comes megan knocking on my window because i wasn’t answering her texts about playing roblox.”

user1 ??? user2 MEGAN

“i swear to god, i ignored it at first because i thought it was like... some random ass person. or one of those freaky monsters from from.”

user3 KEKW user4 AIN’T NO WAY

“then i check my phone and realize she’d been texting me nonstop—and this girl literally sent me a selfie from outside my window.”

you paused for dramatic effect. “so now i’m up to open my window and megan’s just standing there pouting because she was cold.”

“like, maybe don’t stand outside my house at 1am, bestie?” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

user5 nahh megan’s so cute for that user6 y/n loves this

“anyway. i made her go home, and yes—i did end up playing roblox with her. because apparently, her losing in flee the facility is my problem now.” user7 js date already user8 do they know it's legal now?

apparently someone took that advice, because not even ten minutes after you ended stream, there was another knock at your window.

“you gotta stop doing this,” you groaned dramatically.

“i think it’s cute,” megan said with a smug grin. “if you think about it, you used to yell out this window at me to shut up.”

“you heard me?”

“sometimes,” she shrugged.

“and you didn’t be quiet?”

“i tried. it was just hard,” she said, dragging the last word like she wanted you to feel bad for her.

“you’re making me wanna close this window on you right now.”

“wait—” megan held up a hand, “i have something to ask you.”

“did you want to stand out here and ask? or…”

“if i could come in, that’d be nice,” she said sweetly.

“you can come in, megan—”

but before you could even finish the sentence, she was already climbing through the window.

“…the door was an option,” you said flatly, stepping back as she dropped into your room.

“that way was boring,” megan said, brushing off her hands.

“okay…” you gave her a look.

she hesitated for the briefest moment, then stood a little straighter, meeting your eyes.

“i know we kind of got off on a rough start,” she said. “but i’d really like to take you out. like—on an actual dinner date. you and me.”

you stared at her for a second, just long enough to watch the confidence waver behind her eyes.

“will there be dessert?”

“like… metaphorical or—”

“both,” you said.

“yeah,” megan said softly. “there’ll be dessert.”

“then i guess it’s a yes.”

“you guess?”

you rolled your eyes. “yes, megan.”

she lit up, absolutely beaming now, and you hated how much you liked it.

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered.

“i know,” she said, “but now i’m your problem.”

it was the day of your first date, and, you weren't proud of this, you were watching megan’s stream while getting ready. you liked hearing her voice in the background now, even when she was talking trash or yelling about ping.

but by the time you finished getting ready, you looked at the clock—and realized megan, your actual date, was still streaming valorant. you started at your screen in disbelief.

you didn’t even think. you just grabbed your bag, slipped on your shoes, and walked straight to her place.

when you knocked on the door, it was yoonchae who answered, eyes widening a little in surprise.

“hey y/n?”

“i’m here for megan,” you said, trying your best to stay calm.

“i mean… she’s streaming, but she probably won’t be mad i let you in,” yoonchae looked over her shoulder.

“thank you,” you said, stepping inside and following her down the hallway to megan’s room.

you walked in and immediately shut the door behind you with a very pointed click.

megan turned in her chair just slightly. “y/n? wait—oh fuck…”

“yeah,” you said, arms crossing. “for someone who said they wanted to make it up to me, this is a terrible start.”

“i know,” megan groaned. “but they keep making me queue because there’s no fill—”

“right,” you said, voice flat, walking toward her desk with slow, deliberate steps.

megan legit looked like she was running through all five stages of grief in real time. her eyes darted between you and her webcam like she was debating whether to pretend her stream crashed.

user1 megan blink if u need help user2 y/n? hello user3 the way i’ve never seen megan this quiet before is crazy

“are you muted?” you asked calmly and megan nodded so fast.

“unmute.” she obeyed instantly.

you leaned over her shoulder, noting the valorant lobby was still waiting. you moved her mouse, canceled the queue, and closed the game completely. megan still hadn’t said a word. she just watched you even as her friends started yelling at her through her headset.

you leaned closer into her mic. “megan has to go.”

“but we haven’t found a fill yet!” daniela said.

“i don’t really care about that,” you said with a sweet smile in your voice. “hi chat. hope y’all enjoyed today’s stream, but me and megan have plans—and we’re a little late. so she’ll be ending now.”

you turned to her. “end it, so we can go.”

“yes ma’am.”

user4 y/n got that locked down user5 megan is exactly where she wants to be don’t let her fool u user6 we were so right abt these two i’m crying

megan scrambled to hit “end stream,” and as soon as she did, she jumped up, hands in the air like she was about to plead her case.

“okay, okay, i’m sorry,” she rushed out. “it was supposed to be one game and then the queue hit and they begged and i—”

“you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“really lucky,” she nodded, walking over to you.

you stared her down for a beat, then reached for her hand. “let’s go, loser. you owe me dinner.”

megan grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “wherever you wanna go.”

“and you’re paying,” you added, pulling her toward the door.

“obviously,” she said, lacing her fingers with yours like she’d been waiting to do that all day.

[sapphic-coded]

This was sooo good. Will there be more parts?

Request if ur taking them: hella smutty enemies to lovers w nat and female reader… like dom nat is interrogating/torturing r w sex like not letting us come etc unless we give over the information

Interrogation. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Sex Machine, Sex as „Torture“, begging, restraints, edging, Clit play, multiple orgasm, overstimulation

Word Count: 2,7k

A/N: Uhm..MAYBE I got carried away..

The battle had been fierce, and the aftermath was a testament to the clash between the Avengers and you. Debris and rubble covered the once pristine SHIELD facility. The air was thick with dust and the smell of burnt metal. Amidst the chaos, you lay on the ground, breathing heavily, your eyes full of defiance and a hint of amusement.

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, stood over you, her face a mask of determination. She knelt down and pinned your arms behind your back with practiced ease. You struggled, but Natasha’s grip was ironclad.

“It’s over.” Natasha said, her voice deep and firm. You smirked mockingly, your eyes meeting Natasha’s. “You seem pretty confident, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha ignored the provocation and reached for the handcuffs on her belt. “I’ve had enough of your games. It’s time to put an end to this.”

As Natasha secured a cuff around your wrist, you laughed breathlessly. “Oh, careful, these are kind of my thing,” you said with a mischievous grin. Without hesitation, Natasha tightened her grip, “Come on! You don’t have to be so rough. We could have some fun instead.”

But she pressed your check into the dirt, her knee firmly in your back to prevent any movement. “Keep talking, and you’ll find out how rough I can be.“ Natasha hissed, her tone dripping with menace. “The fun is over. You’ve been causing trouble for too long.”

You writhed and twisted, trying to break free, but Natasha’s hold was unyielding. “You’re no fun..” you muttered, your voice muffled by the ground.

Natasha tightened the cuffs on your wrists. “And if you weren’t so insistent on being a villain, you might actually be worth my time.”

You tried to sit up, looking around as if searching for an escape route or an opportunity. “Don’t even think about it,” Natasha warned, increasing the pressure with her knee. You groaned but stopped struggling, though your eyes still roamed.

SHIELD agents were still securing the area, their movements quick and efficient. Natasha had to wait for the all-clear signal before she could take you to the waiting vehicle. The minutes dragged on, filled with the distant sounds of agents clearing debris and securing the area.

“You really won’t let up, will you?” you said, your tone a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. “No.” Natasha replied curtly. You sighed dramatically but didn’t resist further. “You know, I was serious about the restraints.. Maybe one day you’ll take me up on that offer.”

Natasha didn’t respond, her eyes scanning the surroundings until she received a nod from a nearby agent. She finally relaxed, pulling you to your feet with a swift motion. Her grip remained firm as she led you to the waiting vehicle.

“Let’s go,” Natasha ordered, pushing you forward. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, your defiant gaze never wavering.

As you reached the vehicle, Natasha secured you inside before taking a seat herself. The doors closed with a heavy thud, sealing your fate. As the vehicle drove away, you couldn’t help but admire the vie, not of the receding landscape, but of the relentless agent who had finally captured you.

The ride in the vehicle was silent, your attempts at conversation met only with Natasha’s stony silence. Upon arrival at the SHIELD headquarters, you were escorted through a series of sterile corridors, your wrists still firmly bound. Eventually, you were deposited in an interrogation room, the door closing with a resounding click behind you.

Natasha stood outside the room, watching you through the one-way window. Director Fury approached, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

“Anyone getting her to talk?” Fury asked. Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. But I have an idea.” Fury raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I want to try a different approach,” Natasha said, her eyes never leaving you. “Something that requires a bit more��� hands-on work.”

Fury’s gaze followed hers, a knowing look crossing his face. “You think you can break her?” Natasha’s lips curled into a slight smile. “I know I can.”

Fury considered for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Do what you have to. Just make sure we get the information we need.”

Natasha gave a curt nod and turned to a couple of nearby agents. “Bring her to Room B.”

The agents obeyed, entering the room to escort you to the new location. You, always quick to notice a change, looked curiously between the agents and Natasha. “Tired of the room already?”

Natasha didn’t respond, her expression remaining impassive as she followed the agents and you down another corridor. They stopped before a reinforced door, which opened to reveal a stark, dimly lit room. In the center of the room, chains hung from the ceiling.

Your eyes widened slightly as you saw the setup, a slow grin spreading across your face. “Oh, Natasha, you really know how to treat a girl.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gaze steady. “Keep talking and you will see where it takes you.“ You laughed, the sound echoing off the bare walls. “You almost had me fooled. I mean, you’ve got chains hanging from the ceiling. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to spoil me.”

The agents finished their task and stepped back. Now you hung from your wrists, your feet barely touching the ground. Natasha approached you, her expression cold and calculating.

“You like to talk,” Natasha said, her voice low and menacing. “But now you’re going to listen.” Your smile faded slightly as you saw the determination in Natasha’s eyes. “Are you going to torture me for information?”

Natasha leaned close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “Kind of.”

Natasha knew exactly how to handle this situation. She had done her homework and knew your psychological profile. Natasha’s plan was unorthodox, but she knew it would be effective.

With a swift motion, Natasha signaled to a control panel on the wall. A mechanical hum filled the room as a device descended from the ceiling, its purpose unmistakable. Your eyes widened in surprise and something else..anticipation.

“You know, if you didn’t insist on being a villain, you might actually enjoy this,” Natasha said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Your defiance wavered, replaced by a mix of excitement and apprehension. “You wouldn’t…”

Natasha’s grin returned. “Oh, but I would. You see, Y/n, everyone has a breaking point. And I’m going to find yours.”

The device was now perfectly positioned, and Natasha activated it. The gentle vibrations began, and your body tensed in the restraints. You tried to hide your reactions, but Natasha could see right through you.

“Let’s see how long you can maintain that attitude,” Natasha said, her voice a silky purr. “Tell me what I need to know.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Do you really think this will work? That I’ll just spill everything because of a little… pleasure?”

Natasha’s eyes darkened. “I think you’ll be surprised at how persuasive it can be.” The intensity of the device increased, and your breathing grew heavier. You tried to turn away, but the restraints held you firmly in place. Natasha watched you closely, knowing that your resolve would eventually crumble.

Minutes passed, and the room was filled with the sounds of your labored breaths and stifled moans. Natasha remained silent, her eyes never leaving your face. She knew exactly when your resistance began to waver.

“Ready to talk?” Natasha asked, her voice gentle but commanding. Your eyes met Natasha’s, filled with a mix of defiance and desperation. “I- I won’t… give in…”

Natasha leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear. “We’ll see about that.” The vibrations continued, pushing you closer to the edge. Natasha could see how close you were, your body trembling with the effort to hold back. Just as you were on the verge, Natasha deactivated the device, leaving you gasping for breath. FUCK, you thought. You glared at Natasha, your eyes burning with a mix of anger and desire. “You’re playing dirty.”

Natasha’s expression remained impassive. “All you have to do is talk, and this can be over.” You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Natasha grinned. “Then we continue.”

She reactivated the device, and the cycle began anew. Natasha watched intently, noting every reaction, every tremble. She knew the female body well, knew how to read the signs of an approaching climax. Every time you got close, Natasha would stop, leaving you teetering on the edge.

“You’re… a real piece of work,” you panted, your body glistening with sweat. “Thank you,” Natasha replied coolly. “Now, tell me what I need to know.”

Your resolve weakened, your body betraying you. You wanted to resist, to keep your secrets, but Natasha’s relentless game wore you down. “Alright..” you gasped, desperation in your voice. “I’ll talk!“

Natasha is stepping closer to you. “Start talking.” You took a shaky breath, your body still trembling. “I… I was hired by HYDRA… to infiltrate SHIELD. They wanted… information on your operations… your weaknesses..“ Natasha nodded, her expression unreadable. “Who hired you? Names, Y/n.”

“Dr. Zola!” you admitted barely audibly. “He… he was the one who contacted me..“ Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Where can we find him?”

You hesitated, and Natasha reached for the control panel again. „No, wait! I’ll tell you! He’s… he’s in a hidden facility… in the Alps. I can give you the coordinates!”

Natasha nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph. You had managed to deceive Natasha and keep your secrets. But your victory was short-lived.

“Did you enjoy your break?” Natasha asked, her voice deceptively calm. Your smugness wavered. “What do you mean?”

Natasha walked towards you slowly, each step calculated. “Do you think I'm stupid? That I would let you off that easily?”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Natasha grinned, a predatory look in her eyes. “Oh, this is going to be fun for me.” Natasha stepped closer to you, her voice now a seductive whisper. “You see, Y/n, I know exactly how your mind works. Now, you’re going to learn the true meaning of torture.”

The vibrations began again, this time more intense and relentless. Your body reacted immediately, and Natasha watched with a knowing smile.

“I see you’re already close,” Natasha said, her voice dripping with mocking sympathy. “But this time, I won’t stop. I’m going to push you past every limit you have.”

You gasped, your body tensing as the device did its work. Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “Tell me, Y/n. How does it feel to be outsmarted?”

Your breaths came in ragged bursts, your body on the brink. “When I get out of here-” Natasha’s smile widened. “Answers.Now.”

Your resolve shattered as you realized the futility of resistance. You spilled everything, your words a desperate rush. “Fuck! The facility is in the Carpathians, not the Alps. Zola… H-He is there, with a team! They’re developing a new Bio weapon!”

Natasha nodded, her eyes never leaving your face. “Good girl. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” However, she didn’t stop. Instead, she increased the intensity. Your eyes widened in shock. “I told the truth!”

Natasha’s expression was cold and unyielding. “This is for lying earlier. You need to learn that there are consequences.”

Your body convulsed as you were pushed past your limit, your pleas turning into incoherent screams. Natasha watched impassively, making sure you learned your lesson.

She placed her hand on your body, her fingers stroking and teasing expertly, amplifying the overstimulation. Her touch was precise, knowing exactly how to drive you over the edge repeatedly.

“Do you feel that, Y/n?” Natasha whispered seductively. “I can do this all night. You won’t find any relief until I’m satisfied.”

Your eyes begged for mercy, but Natasha’s resolve was ironclad. „God, this Face is so cute..“ She continued her relentless torture, pushing you to multiple, agonizingly intense orgasms. Each time you thought you couldn’t take any more, Natasha found a new way to amplify the pleasure, keeping you on the brink of madness.

“You belong to me now,” Natasha said, her voice a velvety purr. “Every time you lie to me, this is what you’ll get.”

Your body shook uncontrollably, your mind barely holding on. Natasha’s hand moved to your clit, her fingers circling with expert precision. The overstimulation was unbearable, driving you over the edge again and again.

“Please… no more…” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. Natasha’s smile was one of cold satisfaction. “Remember this feeling, Y/n. This is what happens when you cross me.”

Natasha leaned in one last time, her voice a deadly whisper. “Next time, think twice before you try to deceive me.”

“S-Should I apologize!? Is that what you want to h-hear?” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry, there y-you have it! Now turn it o-” You gasped, your words cut off by a shattering climax that coursed through you.

Natasha’s smile was triumphant, but she didn’t stop the machine. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath hot against your skin. “You’re so sweet.”

Your body writhed, your mind a haze of pleasure and pain. “N-Natasha!” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. “Please…”

Natasha stepped closer, her hands now working in tandem with the machine. Her fingers found your clit again. Your eyes widened, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you. “No… no, please… I can’t take it…!“ you begged, your voice a hoarse whisper.

“Oh, yes, you can,” Natasha replied, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “And you will.” Natasha knew you weren’t in any real pain, just overwhelmed by pleasure. She knew your body so well, every sensitive spot mapped in her mind. She could sense your inner conflict, your head shaking in defiance while your body responded with undeniable arousal. Deep down, you agreed, unable to deny the raw pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your body arched, your mind a whirl of sensations. Natasha’s fingers and the relentless machine worked in harmony, driving you to heights of pleasure you hadn’t thought possible. Every touch, was designed to break you, to make you completely surrender.

“Say it again.” Natasha whispered, her breath hot against your ear. Your voice was a broken sob. “I’m sorry… Please… Please…” you repeated, your body trembling violently.

“Good girl,” Natasha cooed, her fingers never pausing. “But I want more. I want you to scream for me.” And you did. Your body writhed, every nerve on fire. You were sure you would die from the sheer intensity of the pleasure, your mind shattered, your will completely broken. Natasha’s hands were everywhere, her touch both torment and balm.

Her fingers moved with expert precision, finding the perfect spot that made you jerk violently in your restraints. “Ah, there it is,” Natasha purred, holding your hips steady as she intensified the stimulation. “I knew you had it in you.”

Your eyes rolled back, your body arching helplessly against the relentless pleasure. “FUCK… PLEASE… I’m begging you…!!”

“Beg all you want,” Natasha whispered, her voice deep and sensual. “I love hearing you beg. Where’s your attitude now, hm?” Natasha taunted, her fingers never slowing. “You were so defiant before. What happened?”

“I…I..” your voice was a breathless sob, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm.

Natasha’s fingers continued their merciless assault, finding every sensitive spot and exploiting it ruthlessly. Your body arched, your mind breaking under the sheer intensity of the pleasure. You were sure you would die from it, your will completely shattered under Natasha’s expert touch.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Natasha slowed the machine and her fingers, giving you a moment to catch your breath. She leaned close, her lips brushing your ear. “You did good,” she murmured. “But remember, there’s always more to tell, more to give.”

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body sagging in the restraints. In that moment, you knew you were utterly and completely at Natasha’s mercy. And there was nothing you could do about it.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sometimes all you need is a good ol' coffee shop au tbh.

[koogalaxzy]

big, bad boss | p. sunghoon

pairing: boss! sunghoon x fem. reader genre: smut, enemies to fwbs to (?) wc: 23k+ summary: You can handle Park Sunghoon’s insults, his impossible standards, even his hands all over you after hours. What you can’t handle? The possibility that the man you swore to never fall for might just be the only one you can’t let go of. content warnings: toxic sunghoon!! he’s so controlling in this but it’s hot so he gets a pass (from me). unprotected sex, public sex, angry sex, hate sex, desk sex, bathroom sex, basically ALL the sex lol. oral (fem receiving), fingering, use of sex toys, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of humiliation kink, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, slight dubcon (consensual but power-imbalanced). enemies-to-fwb-to-lovers. emotional constipation from literally everyone. cat mom reader & (eventually) cat dad sunghoon. brief pregnancy scare. pls do not look for healthy boundaries or communication in this fic, this is pure office filth. a bit of domestic vibes at the end. a/n: first sunghoon fic WHEW. this one’s been simmering for a while guys. literally came to me while watching the no doubt mv, i was like fawk he looks way too good in a suit… i need him in an office setting immediately. disclaimer: the way i write him here is absolutely not how i think he is irl. the only accurate thing is him being a neat freak lol. oh, and me calling him handsome 28473 times because… well, he is. anyways!! pls pls pls lmk what you think 🥺 and THANK YOU for all the love on my previous fic, the new follows, the asks—everything!!! *sends one million flying kisses through your screen*

Becoming important at a job you despise is… well, it’s definitely not a good feeling.

You're reminded of this unfortunate fact every single day at your corporate job, where even though the paycheck is attractive, you're constantly drowning under the immense pressure exerted by your jerk of a boss.

Park Sunghoon has exactly one redeeming quality and that is his stupidly handsome face. But everything else about him is so rotten, you can't even enjoy glancing at his perfect features without a bitter feeling pooling deep in your stomach, similar to the one you get moments before hurling.

You might be wondering what exactly he did to warrant this hatred. The better question would be, what hasn't he done? From your very first week, Sunghoon was a complete asshole who had you running to the bathroom in tears after he openly called your work "uninspired garbage" a "colossal waste of time," and even claimed that hiring someone so inexperienced was an insult to the company's standards.

Funnily enough, you managed to climb the ranks within just one year and found yourself working directly under him. Though you couldn't even celebrate your promotion because being closer to Sunghoon only multiplied your misery. It was safe to say your life was one big ball of stress thanks to him. 

So to cope you developed a rigorous self-care routine which consisted of pilates, drinking only decaffeinated beverages, attending overpriced meditation sessions, and even trying acupuncture.

But your favorite method to decompress involved channeling your frustrations toward the subject of all your afflictions. Sometimes that included taping his picture onto a punching bag and going absolutely feral.

Unfortunately (and embarrassingly) for you, not all your tension was purely angry…

Even if it hurt your soul to admit it your boss was exactly your type physically. Like, why the hell was he always scowling when he literally had the face of an angel? Really, nobody could blame you if your pent-up anger occasionally morphed into sexual frustration.

And yeah, you dealt with that too. Usually with your hands…and your collection of sex toys.

Which was exactly why you found yourself standing awkwardly in a discreet adult shop tucked away in the wealthier part of the city. You chose it because it was the farthest possible distance from your neighborhood, drastically reducing the chance of running into any nosy neighbors.

You shuffled curiously through the aisles, giggling at the sheer size of some toys. A few of them even had the word “monster” in the labels.

You currently had one of those ridiculous monster dildos in your hand wondering how anyone could possibly fit something like that inside them. You briefly considered taking it home, purely for research purposes, of course.

Just as you were inspecting the absurdly graphic details printed on the toy's box, someone stepped next to you way closer than necessary. Who stood this close to someone while browsing monster-sized dildos?

Giving them a subtle side glance, you realized it was a man. Tall enough that you could barely see beyond his chin without obviously staring. A black mask covered most of his face, obscuring his identity. You cleared your throat uncomfortably and walked away, an odd feeling tingling along your spine from the stranger's presence.

You browsed for a little while longer before deciding on just two items—the ridiculously gigantic dildo and a discreet rose toy. As you joined the checkout line, you noticed there was only one other person ahead of you, but unfortunately, she seemed to be having trouble with her card so it was taking a while.

The stranger from earlier joined the line directly behind you, making you sigh in irritation. Just your luck.

Your skin prickled uncomfortably as he stepped even closer, despite the line clearly not moving. Right. Your therapist had repeatedly emphasized setting clear boundaries, something you admittedly weren’t great at. Now seemed like a perfect time to practice that.

You turned abruptly, nostrils flaring with barely concealed anger. “Excuse me,” you snapped, emphasizing every syllable. “Have you never heard of personal space? You’re standing way too close, so if you could kindly step back, that would be great.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering downward to the giant dildo box you were still clutching tightly, then back up to your face as you tapped your foot impatiently. A soft snort escaped him. Was he mocking you?!

“Back off, jerk” you hissed the insult through gritted teeth before turning your back to him again.

“I can’t believe the first time you decide to stand up for yourself is in a sex shop.”

Do you know that dreadful feeling that washes over you right before disaster strikes?

That was exactly how you felt when you recognized that voice. A voice belonging to none other than your daily tormentor.

Slowly, you turned around again. He’d pulled his mask down and pushed his cap up, fully revealing his unfairly attractive face. A slight smile graced his lips, probably the first genuine smile you'd ever seen from him in the entire miserable year you'd known Park Sunghoon.

“Fucking hell…” you whispered, eyes growing to the size of saucers, knees feeling dangerously weak.

Your fight-or-flight instincts chose precisely that moment to kick in, and you reacted in possibly the worst way imaginable: you bolted. Unfortunately, you bolted with both unpaid items still in your hands.

You didn’t even realize your mistake until you were sitting in your car, chest heaving, heart hammering so hard you could hear it in your head. Panic clawed up your throat when you saw the items still clutched in your hand. With a strangled cry, you tossed the incriminating bag out your car window and drove away at breakneck speed, half-expecting sirens at any second.

Seriously, what were the odds of bumping into your boss at a sex you shop?!

The next morning you dragged yourself reluctantly into your workplace, looking as close to a corpse as humanly possible. You hadn’t slept at all, spending the entire night drafting your resignation letter. Forty different versions until you decided on one that didn’t seem too much like trauma dumping.

You had a million reasons to quit already, but after the mortifying nightmare of Sunghoon catching you holding a monster dildo box at a sex shop and calling him a jerk? Yeah, that one topped the list. 

Maybe this was just the universe finally screaming at you to do better for yourself.

Still, dread knotted in your stomach at the thought of suddenly being unemployed. Fucking Park Sunghoon… Did he ever get tired of ruining your life?

Your coworkers greeted you warmly as you walked past them, but several quickly stepped aside after seeing your vacant stare and pale complexion. You overheard hushed whispers: "Is she okay?" "She looks terrible”. You ignored them all.

Once you reached your boss’s office door, you paused, noticing how your hand trembled as you raised it to knock. Taking a shaky breath, you rapped twice.

“Come in,” he called, and you pushed open the door, wincing at its squeak. Had it always been that loud? Well, you wouldn't really know since you immediately dissociated every time you entered this office.

His dark eyes flickered upward, flashing briefly before he returned his attention to the files on his desk. “I hope that’s the corrected version of last week's report in your hand,” he said, pushing up his reading glasses.

God, why did he have to look so attractive in those stupid glasses? You wished he’d wear them more often, preferably in situations other than berating you. Shit—those sleepless nights must’ve fried your brain. You should feel nothing but deep, burning hatred toward this man right now. He was actively ruining your life!

“Erm…no. It’s actually—” You stepped forward hesitantly and placed the letter on his desk, sliding it towards him as if feeding a hungry lion, then stepping quickly away.

“A resignation letter?” he questioned impassively, picking up the envelope and glancing at your shaky handwriting on the envelope. There were definitely a few tear stains visible on the surface.

“Yes, sir. And I wanted to apologize sincerely for yesterday. It was extremely inappropriate of me. There are other reasons, too… they’re all listed in there.” Your voice practically died in your throat under his intense stare.

He sighed deeply and set the letter down without bothering to open it. “Y/N, can I be frank with you?” he started and you braced yourself. 

“You’re too stubborn, impulsive most of the time, overly emotional, defensive—”

Your jaw dropped open, ready to protest, but he held up a hand silencing you before you even started.

“But you’re also one of the hardest workers on this floor. You bring fresh ideas, you’re meticulous to a fault, you push the team to improve. A perfectionist like me… exactly what this company values.”

“If this is your way of convincing me to stay—”

“I’m not finished,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re all those things, sure. But one thing I never took you for was a coward.”

Your entire body went rigid with rage and it ignited so fast in your chest you could not stop the next words from coming out. “I am not a coward. I'm finally putting myself first! Do you honestly think you can say all those horrible things about me and then smooth it over with a couple of generic compliments? That’s not how this works! From day one you’ve made it your personal mission to make my work life miserable! And don’t even try feeding me some bullshit about seeing potential or trying to build my character or whatever ‘tough love’ corporate crap you're about to spew, because I won’t believe it for a second!”

You were shouting now, pretty sure everyone outside could probably hear you, but you’d reached a point beyond caring.

“And while we’re busy listing adjectives for each other,” you continued breathlessly, “let me tell you exactly what you are! You’re the most self-centered, sociopathic, egomaniacal, narcissistic, emotionally constipated, manipulative, control freak bastard I’ve ever known! I’m quitting because of you. I can't stand being here another second, because I can’t stand you!”

You stood there, chest heaving, waiting to see what the devil in designer glasses would do next.

His expression stayed maddeningly neutral until the faintest curl ghosted across his mouth. A smile? Why on earth was Park Sunghoon smiling? Had he finally lost it? Or had you? Because that was definitely a smirk, and now he was rising from his chair, closing the distance between you.

A million panic-scenarios flashed through your head. Maybe he just wanted to yell at you up close. Maybe he planned to throttle you on the spot. Murderer wasn’t even on the list of insults you’d hurled at him but—

“There she is,” he murmured darkly. “The pretty thing I saw in the sex shop. For a moment I doubted it was you… someone with that much fire, that much backbone. But here you are again.”

He stopped so close you could pick out the mint on his breath under the expensive cologne. Your brain was so scrambled you could do nothing but count every mole on his flawless skin, and notice the fact that he didn’t appear to have a single visible pore. What in the fresh hell was happening?

“Language,” he chided softly, apparently you’d spoken your confusion aloud. “Just because I let you scream at me doesn’t mean you can use whatever words you like.”

Warmth flooded your skin, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your dry mouth. What was this weird sensation? It felt as if you’d wandered into a dream, standing bare in a cage with a lion prowling around you. Sunghoon’s gaze was fiercer than ever.

��Uhm… I don’t understand—”

“Let me clarify.” His voice dropped into a velvety tone. “I won’t claim I never meant those things I said, but they weren’t out of malice. If anything, I wanted to see how far you could go before you stopped playing nice.”

You walked back into the wall and he followed, not touching yet but close enough that his body heat curled around you. “Don’t shrink back now,” he whispered. “Show me what that sharp little mouth can do.”

Your lips parted in indignation only for his grin to widen, stealing the breath and every comeback right out of you. He had perfectly straight teeth and unnervingly sharp canines. They were almost vampiric. Was your boss a vampire? That would explain why working for him felt like being bled dry day after day.

But right now, as those midnight eyes pinned you in place, the only thing you knew for sure was that you were in far deeper than any resignation letter could fix. 

And then all those swirling thoughts in your head stopped because he kissed you, brutally hard, swallowing your gasp of shock. His hand tangled roughly in your hair, tipping your head back until you were at his mercy.

His mouth trailed hot kisses across the soft skin of your neck, you bit your lip if only to try to contain the whimpers that were threatening to spill out of you. His sharp canines sunk softly into your skin and he sucked the spot after in almost a soothing manner.

It felt as though you’d lost your job, your mind, and apparently your self-respect—but fuck if you didn’t suddenly feel alive for the first time in months.

When he kissed you again it turned savage quick, all the pent-up frustration, a year’s worth of anger and denial spilling out in the space of a few ragged breaths. 

Sunghoon’s hands found your waist, gripping you hard enough to bruise. With barely a grunt as warning, he shoved you back until you collided with the desk, your palms splaying behind you for balance.

He crowded in, not giving you a second to reconsider. It was as if he could sense your hesitation and didn’t plan on letting you recover it. Your thighs hit the edge of the desk and he pinned you there, the solid line of his body fitting between your legs as he bent to nip your jaw, then your throat again, his breath hot and wild against your skin.

“Still want to quit?” he murmured, hands already hiking your skirt. “Or are you going to admit you need this as much as I do?”

Your laugh came out shaky. “I’d rather beg for anything but this job, asshole—”

He cut you off pushing your underwear aside and slipping a finger inside, harder than you expected, and so skilled it almost made you cry. Your hips jerked up helplessly, humiliation and need mixing into something molten.

“That’s right,” Sunghoon growled. “You love this, don’t you? Making a mess all over my fingers, desperate to be fucked by your boss. Never thought you’d be such a needy little thing.”

You hated how your body responded to every filthy word. His thumb circled your clit mercilessly and you gasped. “You should see yourself, whimpering on my desk,” he taunted. “I bet that monster dildo you picked out was just wishful thinking… thinking about getting filled up, stretched out, but you wanted the real thing, didn’t you?”

You managed a glare, but it drifted down when he started undoing his belt and freeing himself. The sight of his cock made your mouth go dry. He was big. Intimidatingly so. There was a split second of panic in your eyes, and he saw it, smirking as he lined himself up with you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance. “Are you scared? You can still run to HR and tell them about your big, bad boss. Or you can stay right here and take every fucking inch like a good girl.”

When he saw you had no intention of stopping him, he pushed in slowly and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. The stretch was dizzying, almost too much, but your body greedily tried to take more, clenching around him.

“Shit—so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice breaking a little, grip bruising on your hips. “You’re gonna have to loosen up a bit, baby. I can’t move.”

Your walls we’re hugging him so hard he got scared he’d get stuck in there for a second (Nof that it would be such a bad thing). But then you relaxed as you got used to his size and he started moving slowly.

You whimpered, nails digging into the wood. “God, Sunghoon…” 

“Yeah, moan my name just like that,” he rasped, snapping his hips forward and pulling back only to slam in deeper. “You want everyone out there to know who’s fucking you stupid?”

Every word had you spiraling, your body burning, arching to meet his thrusts. The filthy rush of his dominance, the grip of his hands, the way he bent you back over his desk and took what he wanted—every bit of it broke down your defenses. He leaned over you, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “You don’t come until I tell you, got it?”

You nodded, barely coherent. All the nerves in your body lit up from the pressure and the brutal rhythm of his cock slamming into you. He pushed harder, deeper, and relentlessly.

“You’re mine now,” he snarled, biting at your throat. “My dirty little office slut, letting your boss fuck you on his desk because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Y—yes,” you gasped, broken and burning for him.

“That’s right. Cum for me, right now. Show me how much you need it.”

As you fell apart, trembling and ruined against his desk, you realized you’d never let anyone talk to you like this—but god, you liked it when he did.

So, you didn’t quit. 

Instead, you trudged back into the office the next morning. Sore in places you’d rather not recall and wishing you could blot out yesterday’s debauchery from your body with industrial-grade bleach.

Things honestly couldn’t have gone worse. You’d marched into Sunghoon’s office to let out a year’s worth of grievances, and sure, you’d “let it all out”… just not in the way you’d planned. 

He still refused to accept your resignation, and there was zero chance you were marching to HR after engaging in the world’s most ridiculous office affair. Everyone knows the employee with less power always gets burned, and you were not leaving without your full paycheck.

Waiting for the elevator, you opened your phone’s camera, angling your neck to check the damage. Not even half a bottle of foundation could fully cover the vampire bites Sunghoon had branded you with. 

You dabbed your skin one last time before the elevator dinged and, as if conjured by your anxiety, in walked the devil himself.

“Good morning,” he said, and it took genuine effort not to flinch under his gaze.

“Uh, morning,” you muttered, pressing yourself into the farthest corner of the elevator, doing your best to look small and invisible.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, voice casual. If you weren’t so on edge, you’d have given him the side-eye. Since when did the man who regularly worked you into exhaustion care about your rest?

“As well as I could manage,” you replied, lips pressed tight.

“Hmm. I did go a little rough on you yesterday.” He said it as if he was apologizing for a harsh tennis match, not for nearly rearranging your insides.

A dust mote or possibly your own panic got lodged in your throat, and you started coughing. It took you a few seconds to recover and all you could manage was a hoarse “Let’s not speak of that ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not dying to have the office know about our little secret either.”

Of course he was an ass about it. You rolled your eyes. “You think I am? For the record, I tried to quit. But no, Mr. Spoiled Sunghoon has to get his way, as always!”

He turned fully toward you, blocking the doors with that broad frame. “You’re calling me spoiled when you’re throwing a fit like this? And, for the record, I was about to suggest we find someplace more private to continue our… business instead.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he seriously proposing you keep fucking but just in a different…  location?

“You’ve misunderstood. I have no intention of continuing anything with you except maybe a more professional work relationship.”

He laughed a humorless laugh that skimmed your nerves raw. “You don’t believe that even a little.”

“Why do you have to fight me on every single thing? Does it give you some twisted satisfaction to see me pissed off?”

He flashed a wolfish smile. “Surprisingly, yes. But I found out yesterday that it’s even more satisfying seeing you come all over my co—”

The elevator doors suddenly slid open, saving you from whatever depravity he was about to say. You practically leapt to the other side so dramatically you had to fake a leg cramp to explain your awkward movement to the coworker stepping in. The newcomer eyed you curiously but said nothing, thank god.

You caught Sunghoon’s reflection in the elevator’s polished wall and he was clearly biting back a laugh, enjoying every second of your mortification.

When you arrived at your desk—flustered, anxious, and already mentally exhausted—you actually clasped your hands under the desk and prayed. Please let today pass without incident. Please let Park Sunghoon forget I exist for once in his damn life.

Realistically, he only called you into his office once or twice a week. Usually to nitpick your reports or assign corrections. And you figured he was smart enough to want to maintain at least the illusion of normalcy, which meant keeping that routine.

Naturally, you thought wrong.

Because barely fifteen minutes had passed before you saw your desk phone light up with a call from his extension.

You stared at it in silent horror, briefly considering smashing your forehead into the stapler. A workplace injury would be a valid excuse to leave early, right?

…For any normal boss, sure. But Sunghoon wasn’t a normal boss. He was a sadistic egomaniac who unfortunately had the dick to back up a portion of his arrogance.

Just then, your coworker Mina strolled by and smiled sweetly, clearly unaware that you were on the verge of losing your mind. You latched onto her like a lifeline.

“Mina! Can you help me with something?”

“Sure, what is it?” she asked, stepping closer.

You grabbed the offending stack of papers. “Can you take these reports to Mr. Park for me?” you offered her a smile hoping she wouldn’t question you. 

She blinked, a little confused. “Sure… but why?”

Fucking hell. “Oh, it’s just—I really need to use the bathroom, like, right now. Could you just drop them off for me?” The bathroom excuse was foolproof. No one argues with that.

“Oh, okay! But couldn’t you take it after?”

Why was she asking so many questions? Just take the goddamn file and save your doomed coworker from her crazy boss.

Your smile widened so unnaturally it probably triggered a horror response in her brain. Mina’s own smile faltered slightly in concern.

“I’m only saying that because you know how he gets with the reports… He’ll probably want to talk to you about it.”

Right. Like you didn’t already know that.

“I know! It’s just…” fuck it, being honest might make her feel bad for you. “I don’t want to deal with his berating right now.” You sighed.

She hesitated but then smiled in solidarity “I get it. He scares me a bit too. I'll bring them to him and say you needed the bathroom urgently.” 

Victory.

“Thank you so much, Mina! I owe you one.”

To commit to the bit, you stood up and headed toward the bathrooms, waiting just around the corner. You peeked out from behind a pillar and watched her step into Sunghoon’s office. Sorry for sending you into the lion’s den, Mina.

After five strategically-timed minutes in the bathroom, you returned to your desk and sat for three whole minutes before your phone rang again.

You saw the caller ID and instantly considered throwing yourself out the nearest window.

“Hel—”

“Come into my office. Now.”

The finality in his tone snapped any last thread of avoidance you were clinging to. You sighed, mentally braced for the gallows walk, and made your way to his office.

“You wanted me?” you asked coldly, sticking your head in and trying very hard not to look at the desk you’d been thoroughly fucked on yesterday.

“Come in,” he said, without looking up. “And close the door.”

You swallowed hard.

Closing the door meant isolation. No witnesses. Just you and him. And judging by the tone in his voice, you knew this wasn’t going to be a normal work talk. Hell, it probably wasn’t going to be a talk at all.

“I’m actually very busy right now, so—”

“Are you?” His voice was soft but cutting. “I doubt hiding out in the bathroom counts as a busy task.”

You shot him a look. Was he spying on you? “How did you even know?”

“Ms. Myoi isn’t exactly subtle,” he replied, almost smirking. “Next time, pick someone with a better poker face.”

“You got the files, so what’s the problem?” You tried to keep your tone firm, but your nerves were showing.

He stood up so quickly you barely had time to react. Every instinct screamed for you to bolt, but instead, you froze as his long fingers curled gently but firmly around your forearm, tugging you in closer. With his other hand, he closed the door behind you and turned the lock.

“I think you’re under the impression that, after what happened yesterday… You know, me stuffing you full of my cock and all… that you can talk to me however you please.” His tone was low and dangerous. “But you’re mistaken. I’m still your boss, and while you’re here, you’re going to show me respect.”

You hated the way he was speaking to you, hated even more the way his hand was now gliding up your arm, fingers brushing lightly around your throat and up to the sensitive nape of your neck.

“This is a total abuse of power,” you managed. “You can’t just summon me in here and expect me to drop everything because you think I’ll be easy for you. I’m not here to satisfy your needs. I’m here to work. And if that’s not what you want, let me go.”

He chuckled, the hand at your neck stroking slow circles against your skin. “Did you really think I called you in for anything other than work?” His tone was almost playful, clearly amused by your suggestion.

“I told you I wasn’t planning to do that again,” he added, his eyes flickering down your body with an infuriating amount of calm. “Not here, at least.”

Your chin lifted defiantly, meeting his gaze head-on. “What makes you think I’d want to do it again anywhere?” 

“Because you loved it. You took my cock like it was the best thing that had ever happened to you. And right now…” He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re pressing your thighs together just from hearing me talk about it.”

Your whole body flushed—because fuck him, you were.

His hand tightened ever so slightly at your nape. “You can lie with that mouth all you want,” he murmured, “but your body? Your body doesn’t lie to me. It wants me. Still.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath turning embarrassingly shaky. Sunghoon saw your hesitation, your silent surrender, and smiled a  slow, arrogant smirk that sent a thrill straight down your spine.

He leaned closer, lips brushing lightly against your ear as he spoke in a whisper. “You know what your problem is? You talk so much, but the second I touch you…” his fingertips traced trails from your nape down your spine “you fall apart so beautifully. Yesterday you were practically begging me.”

“I—I wasn’t begging,” you lied weakly, breath hitching as his fingers slipped underneath the edge of your collar, stroking softly across your collarbone. 

“Really?” he murmured. “Because I distinctly remember how loud you were” his voice dipped into something darker, hotter. “Do you remember how tightly you clenched around me when I told you exactly what a good little slut you were being for your boss?”

You swallowed a whimper, shame and lust tightening your throat. His other hand cupped your jaw gently, thumb brushing your lower lip as he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You liked that, didn’t you? Liked taking every inch of me right here in my office,” he said quietly. “I bet you spent all night replaying it, wishing I was there to do it again. And again. And again.”

Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as his thumb stroked across your lip again, gently pressing just enough to part them. You were utterly pliant, melting like wax under his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured softly, eyes glinting with triumph. “So responsive. Just my voice, my fingers on your skin, and you’re trembling already.” He leaned in. “I wonder how much more desperate I could make you.”

You couldn’t even pretend anymore. Your body was begging him silently. He drew back just slightly, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips as he took in your flushed expression.

“Meet me during your lunch break,” he ordered quietly, pulling away enough to restore a cruel semblance of professionalism. “Don’t be late. You know I’m not patient.”

Your cheeks burned hotly at the implication, even as a thrill raced through you. You nodded weakly, knowing there was no chance you’d refuse.

You counted down the hours to lunch with embarrassing anticipation, barely getting any work done. Not only was Park Sunghoon living rent-free in your head, he was now actively sabotaging your productivity. Ugh. How could hate and want coexist so aggressively? It was unnatural.

Finally, when the clock struck 1PM, you all but leapt out of your seat only to force yourself to sit right back down after realizing how eager you looked. Get a grip.

Just as you were trying to muster the courage to casually make your exit, your phone buzzed with a text from him:

Sunghoon: Change of plans. Meet me at the parking lot.

You stared at the message, scoffing. Really? He was going to make you walk all the way downstairs just to get railed in the backseat of his car?

You grumbled under your breath the entire way down to the parking lot, texting him as soon as you arrived: Which one’s your car?

You really should’ve known.

A black Mercedes-Benz—the newest model, naturally—rolled up and parked directly in front of you. The door popped open automatically, and there he was with sunglasses on, one arm draped lazily over the wheel, and a small tilt of his chin beckoning you inside like he was some villain in a K-drama.

You rolled your eyes but got in anyway.

“Why didn’t you bring your bag?” he asked immediately, not even sparing you a glance.

“I have my wallet in my phone case. I don’t need anything else.”

“I’ll have one of the staff bring it to my place later.”

“Your place?!” You sat upright, the seatbelt snapping back loudly as you turned to him.

He didn’t even glance over. “Where did you think we were going?”

“To eat lunch? I mean, I’m actually hungry,” you insisted, only half lying. You knew where this was heading, but you refused to seem too eager.

He sighed as if you were an unexpected challenge in his otherwise perfectly curated day. “Either way, you’re not coming back in today. I’ll have your bag delivered. So, where do you want to eat?”

“Wait a second. What do you mean I’m not coming back? My shift isn’t over. I have work to do!”

He gave you a look, one thick brow raised behind his sunglasses. “Yeah, work I assigned you. Which means I can unassign it just as easily. Strap in.”

“Sunghoon, this is… ridiculous! You can’t just kidnap me from work just because you’re my boss!”

He smirked. “I definitely can.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” you grumbled, finally buckling your seatbelt with as much attitude as you could manage.

“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. You’re getting out early, still getting paid for the full shift, and you’ll be thoroughly taken care of.” He glanced at you. “I’d think you’d be thanking me.”

“Of course you don’t see the problem,” you muttered, turning to scowl out the window. “Whatever. Just drive.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. The engine purred back to life, and you tried not to focus on the fact that you were skipping work to go God knows where with your arrogant, dangerously hot boss to get possibly (likely) fucked into tomorrow.

The car ride started in a silence that felt too heavy for two people who’d literally had sex on a desk 24 hours ago. You stared out the window, arms crossed, trying not to seem too aware of how expensive everything in this car felt. The leather, the tech, even the damn smell… it all screamed money. 

“Alright,” he said eventually, “how do you feel about that new French-Japanese fusion place in uptown?”

“Fusion? Uptown? That sounds like a two hour meal and three digit prices.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “So?”

“So,” you said, turning to look at him, “I said I’m hungry. I’m not trying to sit through seven courses of foam and edible flowers.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “What do you suggest, then?”

You thought for half a second. “We could hit that little spot near the office. You know, the one with the best kimchi fried rice—”

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m not taking you somewhere that has a laminated menu and plastic chairs.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re such a snob.”

“And you have the palate of a college student.”

You gaped at him. “You know what? Maybe I do want to eat something cheap and greasy. You ever think that maybe not all of us grew up eating imported truffle oil on toast?”

He chuckled. “Why are you making it sound like a crime to want something nice?”

“Because you think nice has to mean expensive.”

He didn’t reply right away, just turned the corner smoothly. You could feel his gaze on you even though he was watching the road.

“Fine. I’ll make a deal with you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Go on.”

“I’ll let you pick where we eat this time, but next time, it’s my choice.”

Your stomach flipped at the implication of doing this again, but you refused to show it. “You’re assuming there’ll be a next time.”

Sunghoon smirked. “There will.”

You turned back to the window with a huff, trying to hide your tiny smile. 

“Wait—turn right here. There’s a food truck fair in that parking lot!

There was a second of silence so loud it made you look back at him. Sunghoon slowly turned his head toward you, scandalized.

“You want me to eat in a parking lot?”

“Oh come on. It’s street food!”

“Do you have any idea how many food safety violations they probably have?”

“You think your caviar isn’t hiding mercury or something? Please.”

He gave you a look like you’d just suggested licking a subway pole. “We could catch anything from there.”

You laughed, genuinely. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You know there’s a reason the Michelin Guide doesn’t cover sketchy food trucks.”

“Just try the food, Sunghoon. I promise you won’t die from eating a greasy burger”

“Bold of you to assume that’s not exactly how my obituary would read,” he muttered, but he was already making the turn.

You smirked triumphantly. “Are you actually giving in?”

He sighed, the weight of compromise clearly hurting his soul. “I’m making a tactical concession to avoid hearing you complain the rest of the day.”

“That’s what I thought,” you said sweetly, already unbuckling your seatbelt.

“If I get food poisoning, I’m dragging you down with me.”

The food truck you chose specialized in Korean fusion, with spicy pork tacos, kimchi fries, and bulgogi rice bowls. It was the kind of place where napkins came in a metal dispenser and water was self-serve. Sunghoon looked deeply out of place with his lil crisp button-up still tucked, Rolex peeking under his cuff, and an expression like he was trying not to breathe too deeply.

“That man’s handling cash and tortillas without changing gloves.” He said, pointing at the guy working the front.

“That man,” you replied, swatting his finger down “is a hero bringing joy to the masses. Relax.”

You ordered tacos, ignoring Sunghoon’s skeptical gaze as you squeezed lime over the foil-wrapped mess. “Don’t tell me you’ve never eaten from a truck before.”

“I have,” he lied, studying the salsa bottles. “It just… isn’t usually my first choice.”

You picked a picnic table under an umbrella. Sunghoon pulled out a crisp linen handkerchief (of course he carried one) and wiped the bench before you could sit.

“Oh my God, you’re embarrassing me,” you laughed.

“Your immune system will thank me,” he said, unfolding it like a placemat. 

“Here. Try acting like the rest of us humans” you handed him a tray.

“There’s no cutlery…” He said, eyeing the tacos suspiciously.

“Obviously,” you said, already digging into yours. “You have to use your hands, Richie Rich.”

Sunghoon reluctantly picked one up and took a bite. His jaw worked slowly, expression unreadable. You waited for a complaint.

“One to ten, rate your $6 lunch.”

He hesitated, glancing at your happy expression. “Eight. And don’t let it go to your head.”

You gasped dramatically. “Is that approval? From Park Sunghoon? Should I alert the media?”

“I said don’t push it.” But the corner of his mouth twitched dangerously close to a smile.

As you sat across from each other, legs nearly brushing beneath the bench, the sun felt warmer, the breeze softer. For a moment, everything felt dangerously normal.

Until he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth.

You froze. “What are you doing?”

“You had sauce.” He licked his thumb without breaking eye contact. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

You stared, half-appalled. “You are literally why my therapist is booked solid.”

“Happy to keep her employed,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m sure you have plenty to discuss about how much you enjoy working under me.”

You snorted. “In what world would I admit that?”

He shrugged, tearing open a sauce packet with annoying elegance. “You already admitted it with your thighs yesterday.”

You kicked him lightly under the table. “You can’t say things like that in public.”

“No one’s listening,” he said, but his eyes hadn’t left your face once. He was watching you too closely.

You looked away, stabbing a fry. “So what is this supposed to be? Lunch and… whatever comes after?”

He leaned in slightly, forearms resting on the table. “You really think I’m that predictable?”

“Aren’t you?”

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “If I was just here for that, I wouldn’t have bothered with lunch.”

“Then why did you?”

“Still figuring that out.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly conscious of how close you were. “Well, while you work on your revelation, I’m getting dessert.”

He stood smoothly. “Pick whatever you want.”

“Even the bubble waffles?” you teased.

“Get two. You’ll need the sugar.”

You blinked. “Why?”

Sunghoon just smiled.

“I thought you said getting into my pants wasn’t the plan today,” you continued, arms folding tightly across your chest.

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked unapologetically downward. “I just changed my mind. Your ass looks incredible in that skirt.”

The truth is, he barely noticed until now just how distracted he’d become simply from watching the way your skirt hugged your curves. It irritated him a bit, actually, that you could derail his thoughts so effortlessly.

You kind of figured things would end up at his place, but your appetite for anything besides food totally disappeared. Maybe it was the realization that you’d let yourself get sidetracked from work, and, weirdly enough, you actually liked just hanging out and eating with him. But if you had sex with him now, it’d just confirm that to him, you were just an easily accessible warm hole, nothing more.

You grimaced at your own thoughts and suddenly got angry at the fact that you were even here.

“Well, I'm sorry but Richard’s waiting for me, so I have to get home.”

His entire demeanor shifted instantly, shoulders tightening, the casual ease disappearing from his expression.

“And who the hell is Richard?”

A faint tension settled into his jaw. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself. It was simply the irritation of someone who disliked having his plans disrupted.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“And your shift isn’t even over yet,” he added coldly, looking at his watch.

Your blood pressure spiked instantly. “You’re joking, right? Now my shift matters? Five minutes ago you were rearranging my entire day like it was your personal schedule.”

Sunghoon glared at you, his grip on the keys turning almost painful. He knew he was being petty, but he didn’t care. Especially with you dodging him like this.

“I just asked who Richard was, there’s no need to get so defensive.”

“Well, it’s none of your damn business.”

Your words were sharp enough to make his jaw clench. He let out a frustrated breath, telling himself not to say anything else that could possibly upset you more.

“Now you can take me home, or I’ll get a cab. Your choice.” you said, unyielding.

There was a stubborn silence before Sunghoon finally relented, unlocking the car with a curt click. Without another word, you both slid inside, any easiness from before completely gone.

“So what—” Sunghoon scoffed as he started the engine, eyes hardening with visible annoyance. “You can sleep with me but I can’t ask who you’re rushing home to?”

“Exactly, because we’re not anything, remember?”

The reply was blunt enough that even Sunghoon found himself momentarily at a loss for a comeback. That’s right, this was supposed to be a casual thing. So why did this suddenly feel so much more personal?

He didn’t care who you were seeing, really—he just didn’t appreciate surprises.

Nobody said another word the entire drive. You could practically hear every exhale he took through his nose as he maneuvered the Mercedes through traffic. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you unbuckled fast, eager to put distance between you.

“Thanks for the food,” you said curtly, fingers already on the door handle.

His gaze flicked over. “Sure.”

You stepped out, letting the door slam just to be petty. Sunghoon’s jaw flexed, his hands gripping the wheel harder. The Benz sped off with a throaty growl, and you resisted the urge to flip him off as the tail lights faded.

Upstairs, you kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the one thing that had been getting you through this godforsaken job for the last 13 months.

The punching bag.

It hung from the ceiling near your bookshelf, worn from frequent abuse. Centered at face level was a printout of Park Sunghoon’s corporate ID that you’d taped with scotch.

“You smug, insufferable bastard!” you shouted, kicking the bag so hard it swung wildly. “Acting like you own my schedule, my life, my goddamn—”

Thwack. A right hook.

“‘Who the hell is Richard?’ None of your business, that’s who!”

Thump. Left jab.

“Shift’s not over—my ass!”

You unleashed a rapid combo, each hit knocking the bag back with satisfying heft. Across the room, Richard, the mildly judgmental tabby who ruled your apartment with silent disdain blinked at you from his perch.

“See, Richie?” You kneed the bag for good measure. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Because men like Park Sunghoon exist.”

Richard only cocked his head, emitting a single meow and looking entirely unimpressed.

You landed one final kick then sagged against the bag, chest heaving. Richard hopped down, padded over, and brushed against your shin, purring as though to say drama over? snack time?

You blew out a breath, raking sweaty hair off your forehead. “Yeah, buddy. Snack time.” Anything to shift focus away from a certain arrogant boss whose expensive cologne you could still—annoyingly— smell on you.

Sunghoon drove back with one hand still tight on the wheel, the other tapping against the center console in a restless rhythm. His jaw hadn’t unclenched since you slammed the door on his car.

He wasn’t pissed. He just… didn’t like how the afternoon ended. You were supposed to come home with him. You were supposed to want to. 

Instead, you’d thrown some guy’s name in his face and got all defensive like he didn’t have a right to ask. Which was bullshit. You’d let him in once, and he was pretty sure you’d let him in again—hell, he knew you would—but the idea of someone else waiting for you? That didn't sit well for some reason.

Why were you being such a brat? You clearly liked the arrangement, otherwise, you wouldn’t have even let him take you out to lunch. He actually tried, you know? Tried not to make it seem like all he cared about was fucking you. Okay, sure, that was a big part of it—but he did want to get to know you too. And then you had to go and be with someone else? Fuck. He hated this… hated the bitter taste of being someone’s second choice.

You weren’t even dating and he didn’t have a right to ask you who you were seeing on the side. You’d said that yourself. Plus, he didn’t want to date anyway. He didn’t want something soft or complicated. He didn’t want to know what you liked for breakfast or listen to your problems or figure out what you meant when you said fine in a tone that clearly wasn’t.

He just wanted the control back. That’s all this was.

Because the second you said someone else was waiting for you, the balance tipped. And Park Sunghoon didn’t like losing his grip on anything—especially not something he already had in his hands.

He switched into the next lane with a bit more force than necessary, letting the tires roar for him. His thumb tightened on the wheel. Richard. Stupid fucking name. Sounded like a finance bro who wore boat shoes and called people “champ”

He didn’t care who Richard was. He just didn’t like the image of you choosing to go home to anyone else even if he didn’t want you for more than what you were.

Which he didn’t.

Obviously.

He was just annoyed.

Frustrated.

Hard again, if he was being honest.

With a low, irritable sigh, Sunghoon turned into the parking garage of his building and killed the engine. He sat there for a second, resting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.

This was nothing. You were nothing.

But you had looked really fucking good storming away from him.

Sunghoon gave you space the next day. Not out of guilt but because he figured pushing after yesterday’s disaster would only make things worse. You were temperamental, stubborn as hell, and smart enough to know he was trying.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about you. Specifically, about the way those pencil skirts you paraded around made your legs and ass look fantastic. 

By the time Friday rolled around, he’d settled on a strategy: subtlety. A little distance, then a reappearance. Just enough to keep you guessing.

So after five o’clock, when most of the floor had already packed up, he left his office with every intention of catching you at your desk. You always stayed late on Fridays, getting the week's reports done so your Mondays weren’t hell. It was part of your routine, and he knew your routines well.

But when he stepped out, your desk was empty.

He glanced around but only one intern remained. Sunghoon walked over. The intern flinched and straightened instantly.

“Where is everyone?” Sunghoon asked calmly.

The intern blinked, clearly panicking under the pressure. “Uh… there’s a team dinner, sir. At that Kimchi place down the block… I think everyone from our department went.”

Sunghoon didn’t bother replying. He just turned on his heel and left.

The kimchi place was downright dismal. The smell of gochujang and sizzling pork could be smelled even from outside. All of Marketing-Finance Floor 23 seemed crammed into one corner.

As soon as Sunghoon entered the room the conversation  died. The only thing that could be heard was a nervous chorus of “Boss?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes locked on you first. On the hem of your skirt riding high on your crossed legs, your cheeks flushed from beer, and your smile collapsing into a flat line the moment you saw him. You were sitting at a corner table, a half-empty pitcher between you and some guy from Finance whose name Sunghoon didn’t even care to remember.

“Next round’s on me,” he announced, sliding his Amex to the sputtering waitress. This seemed to do the trick because the energy returned to the room accompanied by cheers.

Sunghoon moved toward your table.

“This table’s full.” You said immediately, cold but polite.

But before he could reply, one of the interns sprang up like an obedient golden retriever. “Oh, Mr. Park, you can take my seat!”

You smiled tightly at the intern as Sunghoon sat.

That’s when he noticed that the table was all males. And the one beside you was definitely flirting. Sunghoon vaguely recognized him. Sungchan, or something. The guy leaned in when you laughed at whatever he was saying, his hand dangerously close to your arm.

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked.

“Seems like you’re having a great time,” he said flatly, putting down his drink a little too firmly.

You didn’t even glance at him. “I was.”

“Hmm” he hummed, offering a hollow smile. “Didn’t realize this was such an… intimate team gathering.”

“That's usually how work dinners go.”

“Do you laugh like that with everyone you work with?” he asked coolly, eyes flicking to Sungchan, who was too immersed in conversation with another coworker to pay attention to you two.

“Do not start with this.” You glared.

“I’m just saying what I see.”

“No, you’re just pissed you’re not the center of attention.” You stood up abruptly. “Excuse me.”

Sunghoon didn’t give you a moment. He was right behind you as you slipped around the corner and into the women’s restroom. You barely caught your own reflection before his voice sounded at your back.

“Would Richard approve of you out this late, drinking with a bunch of guys?”

You shot him a deadly look in the mirror. “This is the ladies’ restroom. Get out.”

He leaned against the doorframe, clearly not planning on leaving. “I’m just asking. I’m guessing you two have some kind of open relationship.”

You spun to face him, jaw clenched. “Enough about Richard, already.”

He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves casually. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really mind it that much anymore.”

Your brow furrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“That you’re taken.” His voice dropped a note. “I thought it would bother me. I don’t usually like sharing. But…”

He closed the distance, backing you up against the sink.

“I could make you forget all about him.”

You swallowed, eyes narrowing. “This is highly inappropriate.”

He stepped between your legs before you could sidestep, one hand pressing to the counter beside your hip.

“Inappropriate would be me fucking you right here,” he said calmly. “So I will fuck you in the stall instead…”

You stared up at him, furious that your heart was racing, furious that your body hadn’t caught up to your mind screaming walk away.

Instead, you took a fistful of his shirt and that’s all it took for the thread to snap. He grabbed your wrist and before you could say another word, he was guiding—no, manhandling—you toward the nearest stall.

You stumbled back into it, the door swinging shut behind you with a loud click. 

“You want to laugh with your little office boy toys, fine. But you know none of them will ever get you like this.” he said, already slipping his hand up under your skirt.

“You’re disgusting” you hissed, even as your thighs parted automatically. 

His smile was lazy, sharp canines appearing. “You like me like this.”

You rolled your eyes but the attitude was cut short when he hooked your underwear to the side and ran his fingers through the wetness he found there.

“Dripping,” he whispered. “All that show out there with that dumb accountant but you’re fucking soaked for me.”

“Are you jealous?” you managed, but your voice was already strangled by want.

“Jealous?” Sunghoon scoffed, his other hand unbuttoning your shirt. “I just hate seeing something I’ve ruined get played with by someone else.”

He flicked open the last button, shoving your shirt off your shoulders with barely a glance. Your bra was in the way for all of two seconds until he hooked a finger under the center and yanked it down.

“Pretty,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your nipple. For a second, he just looked at you, half-naked and panting against the wall. His hand trailed lower, skimming your stomach, fingers hooking under your waistband impatiently.

You gripped the handrail, desperate to keep your footing as he shoved two fingers inside you without warning.

“Don’t make a sound,” he growled. “Or do, I don’t give a shit if the whole building hears you getting split open by your boss’ fingers.”

You bit your lip, failing to stifle the whimper that slipped out as his thumb circled your clit.

“We… we shouldn’t do this here” you choked, hips rocking against his hand. “Anyone could come in—-“

“I know,” he cut in, voice rough. “And I’m going to make you come on my fingers while your coworkers toast to a great fucking work week in the next room.”

He kissed you roughly as his fingers thrust in deeper, making you gasp against his mouth. He swallowed it all.

He undid his belt swiftly but your greedy eyes couldn’t take a peek of him because he spun you around quickly, your hands pressing against the cold wall for balance.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against you. “For me to fuck you like the needy little slut you really are.”

“Sunghoon—” Your voice cracked. Whatever protest you had evaporated as he thrust in deeply, filling you so suddenly your forehead almost hit the tile wall.

“I told you to be quiet,” he growled, hand clamping over your mouth as his hips snapped roughly into yours. “Unless you want your entire restaurant to hear how desperate you are.”

You moaned against his palm, muffled, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you ruthlessly. You hated him, hated yourself for how good it felt, for how much you loved the brutal way he fucked you every time. Your body clenched greedily around him, betraying every bit of pride you had left.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your ear, composure cracking. “This tight cunt… did Richard fuck you before you came here tonight? Did you think of me the whole time?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, overwhelmed by how perfectly he filled and ruined you.

“No?” he laughed darkly, gripping your hair and pulling your head back roughly. “You’re mine. Remember that. I know nobody fucks you like this.”

Your body tightened, dizzy from the sensation of every thrust hitting deeper. The cubicle walls shook with each movement, the cheap metal rattling beneath the weight of your reckless need. 

“Come on,” he whispered harshly, hand sliding down to circle your clit mercilessly. “Now cum for me. Be a good girl for once in your life.”

You shattered instantly, violently, screaming against his palm, your walls fluttering around him. Sunghoon swore, still fucking you through every after shock and only pulling out when he was close. He pumped himself outside and spilled his cum all over your legs.

He held you there for a moment, both of you panting, barely holding yourselves upright against the stall wall. Then, he released you and adjusted himself neatly. Your legs trembled, barely able to stand.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He zipped up without blinking. “Good. You fuck better when you’re mad.”

You kicked the door shut behind you, dropped your bag, and let out a groan that probably startled half the building. Richard blinked up from his favorite spot on the windowsill, tail twitching with interest.

You toed off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. “Richard, I swear to god, your mom’s about to lose her mind.”

He meowed, hopping down and trotting over, immediately stretching up to press his paws to your knee.

“Do you want to hear how my day went? Or are you just here for pets?” You rubbed behind his ear. “Never mind. You’re the only man in my life who isn’t an egomaniac.”

Richard purred in response, eyes wide and curious.

You sighed and started, “Park Sunghoon is the human equivalent of a migraine. He’s so full of himself. It’s always his way or nothing. He’s obsessed with control. And with my—” You caught yourself, cheeks warming. “—I mean, with being the center of attention.”

Richard licked his paw and gave you the bland, patient stare only cats can manage.

“Do you know what he did at work dinner? He walked in, sucked the air out of the room, and then got all territorial the second someone even looked at me. Like, hello? You’re my boss, not my husband!” You huffed, grabbing a throw pillow and squeezing it to your chest.

“And of course, he always has to one-up me. Always has to have the last word. I swear, he’d argue with a brick wall just to prove he could.” You sighed at the ceiling. “One of these days, I’m going to out-stubborn him, Richard. Just you wait.”

Richard meowed and rolled over, practically demanding you scratch his belly.

You gave in, smiling despite yourself. “If I ever start falling for a guy like him, you have my full permission to claw some sense into me. Okay? I mean it.”

Richard let out a long, slow blink, then tucked his head into your lap.

“Oh, don’t even. I know what you’re thinking. ‘But you let him rail you in a bathroom, so who’s really at fault?’ And yeah, fine, okay. That did happen. Doesn’t mean he gets to act like that.”

You sighed, unzipping your skirt halfway to sprawl more comfortably.

“And what was that comment tonight? ‘Did Richard fuck you before you came here?’ First of all, he’s a cat, you lunatic! Secondly, who says that? Who follows you into the ladies restroom just to whisper bullshit like that in your ear and still manage to look hot doing it?”

Silence.

Richard stretched his front paws and turned away from you.

“I hate him,” you groaned. “I hate that stupid look he gets when he knows I’m seconds away from either punching him or climbing him like a fucking ladder. I hate that he talks to me like he owns my body. I hate that I let him.”

You exhaled. For a moment, you try to let yourself forget the mess outside these walls and just be a girl with a comfy couch and a very good cat.

“He’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Richard purred, which was probably him agreeing.

“…And I need new panties.”

The following Monday was hell. You walked into the building with your chin high and your legs still sore, determined to keep it professional. Sunghoon, of course, didn’t look even slightly affected. He entered the conference room as if he hadn’t rearranged your insides in a public restroom stall less than 48 hours earlier.

The team meeting started normally enough. Mostly about updates, deadlines, and more mind-numbing corporate stuff. You were seated across from him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting to you.

Then came the part where you had to present your weekly figures.

“Your report doesn’t account for the regional shift in quarter-two projections,” Sunghoon said, flipping through your printed pages without looking up.

You gave him a tight smile. “That’s because I was told to prioritize active trends over predictive models. As per last Friday’s brief, sir.”

A few heads turned at your sharp tone.

Sunghoon arched a thick brow. “Then you were told wrong.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying your own directives were wrong?”

“You must’ve misinterpreted them. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said coolly, shutting the folder.

Your jaw tightened. “Funny, since the last time I ‘misinterpreted’ something, you ended up correcting me right away.”

The air in the room dropped to sub-zero.

Sunghoon smiled. But it wasn’t nice. “Let’s take five. I think some of us need to clear our heads”

No one argued. The team scattered so fast it was like fire had broken out. Then it was just you and him.

“I see the bathroom didn’t teach you anything.” He said, voice low and flat as he rounded the table slowly.

You stood your ground. “If you think you can intimidate me in here just because we—”

“Oh, princess,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to intimidate you.”

He pushed you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the conference table. You blinked, but didn’t move. Stubborn to the end.

“Is this how you want to play it?” you asked, breathing uneven.

His eyes dropped to your hips. “This is how you like it.”

You opened your mouth to fire back but gasped when he dropped to his knees in front of you, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer to his face, lips brushing against the hem of your skirt.

“Sunghoon—”

“Hush,” he said simply, lifting your leg over his shoulder. “You do too much talking.”

He shoved your panties aside and licked a slow stripe up your center. Your hand flew to the edge of the table, nails digging in. His mouth was hot and merciless, tongue working you open with infuriating skill.

“Is this what you wanted?” he muttered, voice muffled between your thighs. “To act like a brat in front of the team so I’d remind you how to behave?”

You couldn’t answer. His mouth was moving too fast now, tongue circling your clit while his fingers spread you wider. Your head fell back, hips rocking helplessly against his face.

He sucked hard, then pulled back just enough to smirk. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just whimpered, grinding down on his mouth.

He didn’t stop when your thighs shook or even when you clenched around his tongue, crying out into the empty conference room.

When you finally came, it was with a broken sound and a trembling grip on the polished edge of the table. He kept his mouth on you the whole time, lapping up everything you gave him like he was starved.

Eventually, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, adjusting his sleeves.

You were still breathless, flushed, legs too weak to stand

“I expect your revised report in my inbox by end of day,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just tongue-fucked you into silence.

Sunghoon’s phone buzzed against the table. A single glance at the caller ID wiped the smugness from his face.

His jaw set. “I have to take this.”

You were still half perched on the edge of the conference table, skirt rucked up, panties sticking to you uncomfortably. “Now?”

He straightened his suit jacket with one sharp tug, then swiped to answer. “Yes, Chairman Park?”

Whatever he heard on the other end made the muscle in his cheek jump. “Understood. I’ll be there in ten.”

He killed the call and grabbed a folder he had tossed aside earlier. “I have to go.” His eyes flicked down to your still open thighs then darted back up as if forcing himself to look away. “Make yourself presentable before leaving”

He grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, ran a hand through his hair, and started toward the door.

“Wait, what?” you asked, still breathless. “Are you seriously just—leaving?”

He didn’t even look back. “I have to take care of something.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? You just made me—”

“Clean the table up,” he said, already halfway out. “There’s a team coming in here at four.”

The door shut behind him, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne and the distant click of his shoes fading down the hall.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, yanking your panties back up. “I cannot believe I let that man near me again.”

And once again, you were left cleaning yourself up after Park Sunghoon decided to turn you inside out and vanish like nothing ever happened.

You went back to your desk and channeled every ounce of your anger into the stupid corrections Sunghoon had asked for, using every shred of self-restraint not to add an extremely inappropriate cartoon at the end for his private viewing.

When you finished, there wasn’t much else to do, so you decided to grab some snacks from the staff room. But as you made your way there, you nearly collided with Sunghoon, who was turning the corner accompanied by the CEO, Mr. Park, and a girl you’d never seen before.

The girl looked like she’d just walked off a runway. She was absolutely stunning, with the kind of beauty that made you double-take. She was gazing at Sunghoon with sparkling eyes, clearly smitten, and Sunghoon… was also smiling? And not his usual smirk or that infuriating shit-eating grin, either. This was almost gentle, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple appearing on his cheek. Since when did he have dimples?

You got caught staring when all of you paused in the hallway. After a few awkward seconds, you remembered you were supposed to greet them. “Mr. Park,” you bowed, earning a polite smile from the CEO.

“Oh, hello! Miss Y/L/N, right? Yes, I heard it was your proposal last year that revived the department. Well done! Sunghoon here really picks out the best candidates, doesn’t he?” He clapped Sunghoon on the back and laughed warmly.

Pick out? Well, he certainly picked out the best girl to use. You frowned, but Sunghoon noticed and stepped in smoothly.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

The CEO gestured to the girl. “This is my daughter.”

“Jang Wonyoung,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

You took it and smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“She’ll be starting here tomorrow,” the CEO continued.

“Here?” you asked, glancing between them. “As in… this department?”

“Indeed. Please treat her well,” Mr. Park said with a friendly nod. You bowed your head again.

“Of course, sir.”

You didn’t realize they accepted new candidates mid-year in this department, but you supposed being the CEO’s daughter had its perks.

“Well, I was just grabbing a refreshment,” you said, offering a brief smile before stepping past them and into the room. 

You glanced over your shoulder and caught Sunghoon stealing a quick glance at you. So this was the “very important business” that made him leave you hot, bothered, and stranded in the conference room? Of course. Giving the CEO’s daughter a personal tour was obviously more urgent than finishing what he’d started with you.

You tried to shake off the weird surge of annoyance building in your chest. You were supposed to be focusing on yourself, right? But ever since your twisted affair with Sunghoon began, your whole life had slipped out of order.

You’d missed your weekend pilates class because your limbs were too sore from being railed in the bathroom. You’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, replaying every aggravating thing he’d ever done, simmering in irritation and… something else you refused to discuss. You’d even skipped lunch a few times, pretending to be swamped with work just so he wouldn’t get the chance to “kidnap” you again.

Safe to say, Park Sunghoon was wrecking absolute havoc on your routine, and you were desperate to claw back some control.

Maybe this new girl would distract him and he’d finally leave you the hell alone. The idea made your mouth twist with something ugly and in your distracted state, you sipped your freshly brewed coffee, scalding your tongue immediately.

You walked out of the refreshment room with a burnt tongue, a soured mood, and not even a little bit refreshed.

Wonyoung joining your team turned out to be a much bigger hassle than you’d expected. Especially since, out of everyone, you were picked to show her the ropes during her first week. It was like babysitting a celebrity, except the fans were your own coworkers.

Every male employee you passed seemed to have suddenly discovered urgent business near your desk, only to pull you aside with the world’s most obvious fake smiles.

“So, uh… you got her number yet?”

“You think she’s seeing anyone?”

You’d learned to fake a polite smile back and keep it moving, but by Wednesday you were ready to claw your ears off. 

The real cherry on top, however, was Sunghoon himself. With Wonyoung around, he’d doubled down on humiliating you in every meeting. Every little thing you said was picked apart, corrected, or ignored outright. You could feel her perfect eyes on you every time he put you on the spot, and by Friday you were seething.

By the end of the week, you were so keyed up you couldn’t even fake politeness anymore. And unsurprisingly, being micromanaged and dragged into extra tasks had left you behind on your actual work.

Which is how you found yourself still at the office at nearly 3 a.m, hunched over your desk and furiously editing reports with trembling hands and a full mug of forbidden coffee. So much for your no caffeine rule.

Your phone buzzed, and when you saw it was a message from Sunghoon, you nearly hurled it across the room. 

What the hell did he want now? He’d barely acknowledged your existence this week, except to hand you extra work or cut you down in front of the entire team. Maybe he wanted to tell you you’d missed a comma in one of the reports. You knew how much he enjoyed kicking you when you were already down.

Your phone rang again but this time it was a call. You sighed, grabbed it, and answered with zero effort to hide your annoyance. “What?”

“Are you still at the office?” His voice was frustratingly alert for this hour.

“Why?”

“It’s 2am.”

You glanced at the clock. “I am painfully aware. How do you even know I’m here?”

“I can see the security cameras.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” you muttered, spinning in your chair. “Glad to know I can’t even work myself to death in peace.”

“I also saw you were still at your desk when I left earlier. And I know you well enough to know you’d probably stay late.”

“Right, you know me so well,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have about a million reports to correct. Which I got behind on, because I was busy playing tour guide to the little princess all week by the way.”

There was a pause and you almost thought he might apologize. But Sunghoon, as always, surprised you.

“Just… don’t stay too late. The security guards leave at three, and I don’t want to hear about you getting locked in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Noted, boss.”

He hung up before you could add anything else. You tossed your phone onto the desk and stared at your blinking cursor, feeling more annoyed than before.

Sunghoon walked in on the next day already armed with a rare idea. He would let you go home early. You had spent half the night here so the least he could do was let you beat the rush hour traffic.

Then he saw you climb out of Sungchan’s car.

Every good intention died immediately. The muscles in his face tightened so hard into a scowl they ached. He crossed the parking lot in long strides until he was in front of you.

“Morning,” he said impassively. “You two are late.”

He knew you weren’t. The Rolex on his wrist still read 8:58. But the words fired out anyway.

Your easy smile vanished as you simply huffed and strode past him into the building without a word. Sungchan offered a quick bow, clearly confused, then hurried after you. 

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed. Since when did you commute with Sungchan? Did you not have a perfectly functioning car?

He waited until Sungchan had disappeared back to the accounting floor, before stalking over to your desk. He forced himself to make his tone as casual as possible. You looked irritable enough to bite.

“So,” he said, hands in his pockets, “did you finish those report corrections?”

Without speaking, you lifted a neat stack of files, and set them in his hand. 

Great. Now you weren’t even talking to him.

“I didn’t know you were so close with Sungchan,” he tried, still aiming for non-threatening. “Car trouble? Or is he your new chauffeur?”

You exhaled one of those long, tired sighs that felt like a door slamming in his face before finally looking up at him. The frost in your eyes was familiar, almost nostalgic. He realized he had barely seen you outside meetings last week, and in a twisted way he had missed this exact glare.

“Do you need something?” you asked, voice flat as glass.

He frowned. “No, I was just—”

“Then, if it’s not work-related, I have a lot to do.” You gathered another stack of folders and stood. “And Ms. Jang seems to be waiting for you.”

Sunghoon followed the direction of your nod. Wonyoung stood outside his office with a tablet in her hands. He looked back at you, hoping for one more second of eye contact, something he could read. You were already walking away.

He clenched the corrected reports a little too tightly and turned toward Wonyoung. Whatever nice gesture he’d planned for you earlier was dead on arrival.

You knew from that chilly exchange that your day would not be a walk in the park. The meeting was only ten minutes in and already your nails were half-destroyed from how hard you were digging them into your palm.

Sunghoon was on a roll today. Maybe it was the caffeine or the fact that Wonyoung was seated beside him looking all pretty. But whatever it was, he had decided today was the day to challenge everything you said.

“No,” he cut in for the fourth time, tone clipped, “that’s not what the report reflects. Unless you’ve somehow redefined what productivity looks like, Miss Y/L/N.”

You inhaled sharply. “It’s what the data says. You know, the thing you usually ignore when it doesn’t flatter your genius ideas?”

A few coworkers coughed into their palms. Some even looked up as if  they were watching live combat. Wonyoung, of course, just blinked politely.

Sunghoon’s jaw twitched. “Just because I let you lead these meetings doesn’t mean you should forget who’s running this department.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you snapped. “It’s kind of hard when every sentence from your mouth is a dick-measuring contest with yourself.”

The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. He just slowly set down his pen and met your gaze with equal intensity. “I think that’s enough for today. Good job everyone.” 

This scene was very familiar and if you remembered correctly, if you stayed in here another second, he would get you in a compromising situation you’d surely regret later.

So you huffed out a breath and walked out, ignoring the curious looks exchanged behind you. Sunghoon was hot on your heels.

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you,” he muttered, stalking toward you.

“And you’ve got a god complex. Guess we all have flaws, don’t we?”

“I’m your superior.”

“And I’m sick of you reminding me that when I don’t roll over every time you bark!”

He was suddenly in front of you, invading your space. “I wouldn’t have to remind you if you knew how to behave.”

“Says the one who doesn’t know how to treat a woman unless your dick’s out.”

Sunghoon's hand gripped the back of your neck and shoved you into the filing cabinets inside the copy room, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to tell you the gloves were off.

“Oh, you wanna talk about dicks?” he hissed, his mouth now inches from yours. “Let me remind you how good mine felt buried inside you.”

You refused to back down. “Are you going to fuck the attitude out of me again? How very predictable.”

You twisted in his grip, shoving his chest, but he caught your wrists.

“You want to keep mouthing off?” he rasped, advancing until your bodies hit the cabinet.

“Fuck you.”

He answered by twisting a fist into your hair and crushing his mouth to yours, his tongue driving past your lips as though he could steal every spark of your anger. His free hand slid down to cup your jaw, fingers locking around your chin to hold you still.

“Fucking look at you” he spat, lips swollen and smeared as he tore himself from your mouth “All that attitude, but you’re shaking for me. Who’s the predictable one?”

You glared, stubborn to the last, but your hips betrayed you with a needy twitch. He grabbed you and spun you, forcing you forward until your chest slammed against the cabinet’s freezing edge. His hand bunched up your skirt high, the other tearing your tights and panties down in one rough motion.

“Let me guess,” he sneered, fingers trailing between your legs, “Sungchan made you this wet? Or was it the thought of me bending you over like this?”

You gasped when two long fingers plunged inside you. There was nothing tender in the way he moved—just a ruthless rhythm, demanding your surrender.He curled his fingers, thumb flicking over your clit, making you whimper despite yourself.

“God, listen to you. Moaning like a slut in the copy room,” he taunted, voice dropping lower. “You act so high and mighty, but you’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you?”

You bit your wrist to stifle a cry, your hips rocking back against his hand.

“That’s right. Take it. You love it when I treat you like this. You want it rougher?  Or do you want me to slow down and pretend I give a shit about your feelings?”

“Don’t you dare slow down,” you snapped, words strangled with need.

He laughed breathlessly. “Didn’t think so.”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them with a wicked grin. “Pathetic. You’re dripping for me. After all your bitching, you still can’t help yourself.”

You twisted, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

His belt hit the floor within a second. He gripped your hips, lined himself up, and thrust in so deep and sudden you yelped. He didn let you adjust to his sheer size, simply grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back with one hand, the other squeezing your throat, forcing your back to arch.

“Don’t you dare close your legs. I wanna see you take every inch,” he snarled, grabbing your thighs and holding them wide as he pounded into you. His cock was stretching you so wide and deep, hitting all the right spots until you were a mess of moans and broken pleas. 

Every thrust was sharp and punishing, your body shuddering under him, wetness dripping down your thighs. If anyone heard, they’d know exactly what he was doing to you but you could not care less at that moment.

“Who do you belong to?” His voice was sharp. “Say it. Say you’re mine, or I’ll leave you like this.”

You shook, barely able to breathe. “Yours. I’m yours.”

He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear. “Louder.”

“Yours!” you gasped, voice echoing in the tiny room.

“Yeah, that’s right. And when you walk out of here, everyone’s going to know it. I want my cum leaking down your thighs during the next meeting. I want you thinking about this every time you sit down at your desk. You got that?”

You nodded desperately, tears stinging your eyes from the stretch and the force of his thrusts.

He let go of your wrists, grabbed your hips, and fucked you harder, so rough you saw stars. He reached around and rubbed your clit fast, breath hot against your neck.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You came so hard, whole body seizing in the waves of your orgasm. Your legs shook, almost giving out able to hold you up. Sunghoon kept going, chasing his own release, until he pulled out and came by your legs with a guttural curse.

You let your head fall back against the cabinet, trying to catch your breath. The fury that had burned so hot just minutes ago had dulled into a simmer of exhausted annoyance. You expected to turn around and see Sunghoon already tugging up his pants, smoothing his hair back into place, maybe even tossing a smug remark over his shoulder like "clean yourself up."

But when you looked, he wasn’t walking away. He was still standing behind, holding a handkerchief similar to the one he’d used when you ate together.

And then, to your complete disbelief, he knelt down.

You blinked. "What are you—"

Before you could finish, he was gently wiping the mess off your thighs—his and yours. His touch was careful, the same hands that just made you see stars  now moving with a tenderness that almost made you recoil.

When he finally stood again, you caught the faint but unmistakable flush on the tips of his ears. He avoided your gaze for a moment, brushing his palms against his pants as if trying to rid himself of the moment.

“Did something happen to your car?”

It took you a second to catch up. “Uhm, yeah, it wouldn’t start this morning. It’s at the shop now.”

He nodded once, then looked at you with a neutral expression. “I can give you a ride home. And to work, until it’s fixed.”

You paused mid-motion as you adjusted your tights. That was… surprisingly considerate. Especially coming from someone who usually barked orders instead of offering help.

“I… sure. You can give me a ride home today,” you said cautiously. “As for tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer than and then he nodded again.

“All right then.”

He wasn’t forcing a choice on you this time. How strange.

Later, when the workday finally ended, you waited by your desk. Usually, you were the last one to leave, and tonight was no exception so the office was mostly dark and quiet by the time Sunghoon emerged from his office.

“Ready?” he asked walking over.

“Yes,” you said, grabbing your things and falling into step beside him as you made your way to the elevator. 

There was an odd tension between you, but not the usual  combative kind. This was almost awkward. Because for the first time, you were leaving together without arguing or being forced into it.

Once inside his car, you couldn’t help but remember how hard you’d slammed the door the last time you were here. This time, you shut it gently, settling into the plush seat. Sunghoon glanced at you. “Remind me your your address again.”

You gave it to him, then the rest of the ride was quiet except for the faint music playing on the radio. The air inside the Mercedes was icy cold, and you found yourself rubbing your arms.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence and making you flinch a little.

“A bit. I forgot my jacket at the office,” you admitted.

Without a word, he turned down the AC. You shot him a surprised look and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

What were these weird, almost pleasant interactions? It was disorienting, acting as if he hadn’t called you a slut while pounding into you just hours ago.

He pulled up in front of your building. Every rational instinct in you said to just thank him and get out, but the small, reckless part of you that liked these quiet moments won out.

“Would you like to come up?” you asked, the words almost slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Sunghoon looked stunned and was silent for so long you nearly rescinded the offer. But then he switched off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt in one smooth motion.

You led the way up the stairs, glancing back with a quick, “Sorry, the elevator’s busted, but I’m only on the third floor.” As you fumbled with your keys, you realized you hadn’t even checked if the place was tidy. Shit. You hadn’t expected any visitors—especially not Park Sunghoon.

You pushed open the door and peeked inside. Not bad. At least your laundry wasn’t everywhere.

“Come in,” you said, stepping aside so he could enter. He took off his shoes, scanning the small apartment with that unreadable expression of his. You couldn’t tell if he was silently judging your shoebox space or mentally praising your attempts at decorating.

“Uhm, I’ll get you something to drink. Tea? Water?”

“Water’s fine,” he replied, following you toward the kitchen.

“Okay, you can just—” You stopped dead in your tracks as your gaze landed on the elephant in the room: your punching bag, standing proud in the corner, with Sunghoon’s picture still taped squarely to its center. His face was staring straight at both of you.

You spun around in a panic to check if he’d noticed, but of course he had.

“I see you have very particular ways of entertaining yourself in here,” he said, amusement curling in his voice.

“Oh, god.” You rushed over, trying to untangle the heavy bag from its hook, but it wouldn’t budge. You tried peeling off the picture, but you’d used so much tape that it refused to budge.

“This is not what it seems,” you stammered, attempting to hide the offending evidence with your body.

He just grinned. “I think it’s exactly what it seems. But don’t worry…I use your pictures to let off steam, too.” He winked, and your mouth dropped open at the implication.

“What—?”

Before things could spiral further, Richard picked that moment to waltz out of your bedroom. The cat sauntered past you and headed straight for Sunghoon, tail held high, eyes curious. Sunghoon crouched down and gave the orange tabby a gentle pat on the head.

“And who is this?” he asked, stroking the soft fur.

“Richard,” you said simply, waiting for his reaction.

His hand froze mid-pet, and he looked up at you, stunned disbelief written all over his face. Then an incredulous laugh burst out of him.

“This is Richard…?” he asked, straightening up, still half-laughing.

“Yup.” You grinned, unable to hide it. “Bet you feel pretty dumb now.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “For getting jealous of a cat?!”

You tried to look innocent, but the satisfaction on your face was impossible to miss. “Guess so.”

“Who names their cat Richard?” Sunghoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with the name Richard?”

“That’s a grown man’s name.”

You crossed your arms. “I named him after the tiger in my favorite movie, Life of Pi. It felt appropriate.”

He glanced at the orange tabby. “He hardly looks like a tiger to me.”

“He’s very fierce and wise, actually.” You scratched behind Richard’s ear. “I think he can even sense bad vibes in people. He scratched my ex’s face once and a week later I found out the idiot was cheating.”

Right on cue, Richard tapped Sunghoon’s leg with a paw, then purred the moment Sunghoon scooped him up.

Sunghoon smirked. “Guess my vibes are fine.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t trust the judgement of a cat.”

Sunghoon scoffed and scratched beneath Richard’s chin, earning another contented purr. “Can’t believe you named him after a tiger,” he murmured.

“Have you even seen Life of Pi?” you asked, suspicion creeping in.

He shook his head. “I never had the time. There’s a tiger in it, I assume?”

Your jaw dropped. “You work eighty hours a week and still find time to ruin my life, but you can’t spend two hours on one of the best films ever?”

“That’s a bold statement.”

“Sit.” 

A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

You queued the movie while Sunghoon lounged stiffly on the couch, Richard curled stubbornly in his lap. You tossed him a blanket both to be polite and because your apartment ran cool at night.

“No commentary until after. I take this movie very seriously.”

“I think I can hold my tongue.”

You explained every detail as the movie played—why Richard Parker was the tiger’s name, the symbolism of whether everything was real or just in Pi’s mind, the parts that always made you cry or laugh. Sunghoon watched, surprisingly attentive, occasionally glancing at you as much as the screen.

At some point, you realized your legs were touching. And somewhere between Pi’s first dazzling storm and his heartbreaking plea to the universe Sunghoon’s shoulder arm slipped behind you on the coach. 

You’d occasionally glance his way, noticing the slight furrow of his thick brows during emotional scenes and the small smiles when something amused him. You had never really seen Sunghoon relax like this, unguarded, his features softening as he became absorbed in the story.

At some point, your exhaustion caught up to you and without even realizing it, your eyelids grew heavy.

It wasn’t until morning sunlight started filtering through the blinds hours later that you woke up. Your cheek was pressed against something warm and firm and blinking sleepily, you realized with a jolt that it wasn’t a pillow… it was Sunghoon’s chest. His arm was loosely wrapped around you, his head tilted slightly, his breathing steady and peaceful.

You’d cuddled in your sleep. Oh lord.

After that accidental night on the couch, everything changed in subtle ways. You weren’t exactly friends, but you weren’t enemies either. He still rolled his eyes at your snark, you still muttered under your breath about his god complex—but now, he took you home every night. 

And somehow, that always turned into “let’s just watch something before bed,” which inevitably became shared popcorn, shared blankets, and shared pillows.

Some nights, you’d fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch and wake up tangled together, Richard squeezed somewhere in the middle like an orange pillow. Other nights, there was lingering heat—a kiss pressed to your shoulder, or the back of your neck, when he thought you were already asleep.

You’d convinced yourself you were fine with this weird in-between. You even ignored the fact that, lately, you kind of wanted him to stay over more. You liked seeing him half awake and soft in your kitchen, hair sticking up, pouring two cups of coffee.

But it couldn’t stay sweet forever.

It happened on a Thursday. You were in the shower, humming to yourself, when you realized you’d left your phone on your bed. Sunghoon, making himself at home in your apartment as always, went to grab it for you when it buzzed but the battery died at that moment. He opened your nightstand drawer, looking for a charger.

And found your stash.

He picked up the monster dildo first, brow arching so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. The rose toy rolled out right after, bouncing off his knuckle and landing with a soft thud on your sheets.

You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, only to find Sunghoon standing by your bed, your entire sex toy arsenal on proud display in his hands.

You froze. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He looked up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well… I always knew you were insatiable, but this is impressive.”

You wanted to melt into the floor. “Put those back.”

He turned the monster dildo over in his palm, appraising it like a weapon. “You actually use this? On yourself?”

You tried to snatch it, but he pulled it just out of reach. “Give it—”

He cut you off with a look that said don’t-even-try, and just like that, all the softness of the past week evaporated.

“Why bother with these?” he asked, stepping closer until your knees hit the bed. “When you’ve got me?”

You glared, embarrassment making your skin burn. “Sometimes you’re not around, asshole.”

His smirk darkened. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time, don’t you think?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he pressed a hand to your shoulder, pushing you gently to sit on the edge of the mattress. He tossed the toys down beside you, crowding into your space, heat pouring off him in waves.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he said, voice dropping to a growl. “You’re going to show me exactly how you use these. And then I’m going to show you why you’ll never need them again.”

He slipped your towel down, his eyes devouring every inch of your glistening skin. He picked up the rose toy and flicked it on, the gentle buzz loud in the quiet room.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and you did—body already shaking with anticipation.

He tossed the rose toy onto the bed, its gentle buzz loud in the quiet room. You hesitated, still flushed from the shower, feeling the heat of his gaze as you settled back against your pillows. Sunghoon kneeled at tj, legs spread, dark eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Show me how you play when you’re alone. I want to see everything.”

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you pressed the toy against your clit, legs falling open wider for him, not just for the toy’s sake but because the hunger in his gaze made you feel more confident. The rose fluttered, sending tiny waves through you, and you couldn’t help the shaky sounds spilling from your lips.

He leaned forward a little, his voice husky. “Shit,” he said quietly. “Do you always fuck yourself this pretty, or is it just because I’m watching?”

Your breath caught, fingers slipping as your thighs tensed. He smirked, settling a hand over your knee to keep you wide open. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see every single thing you do to yourself when you’re alone. I want to know exactly what it takes to make you come when I’m not here.”

You whined, rolling your hips. “Sunghoon—please—”

He watched the toy kiss you, watched you tremble, and his eyes got darker, voice roughening. “I bet you rub yourself like this just wishing it was my tongue instead of that toy.” He let his hand slide up, tracing your thigh, almost but not quite touching where you wanted him. “Or do you imagine my fingers fucking you open, filling you up until you can’t take any more?”

You nodded, too close to care about being coy. The toy buzzed higher and you gasped, feeling your orgasm start to crest.

But his hand shot out, stopping yours, and he leaned in until his mouth hovered right next to your ear. “Don’t come until I say. You know better than that.”

You whimpered in frustration.

He plucked the toy from your hand, turning it off with a click. “You want to come, princess?” he whispered, and the teasing was gone from his tone now, replaced with a darker command. “Open your legs wider. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His mouth was on you a second later. His tongue slid greedily over your clit, circling, then flattening as he sucked. His fingers pressed into you, filling you in a way the toy never could.

His gaze remained locked on your face. His dark eyes never looked as alive as when he was looking up from between your thighs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, breath warm against your skin. “You really did get yourself worked up for me. You love being watched, don’t you? Love knowing you have all my attention, huh? You are a greedy little thing.”

You couldn’t answer in anything but incoherent mumbles and moans. His hand pressed firmly over your stomach, holding you still as he sucked and licked, working you closer, refusing to give you the mercy of release until he decided you’d earned it.

“Now,” he growled, voice barely more than a snarl, “cum for me now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, coming apart in his mouth, trembling and gasping as your orgasm took over—harder than anything that little toy could’ve ever managed. He licked you through it, holding you until you finally stopped shaking.

When he finally detached from you, his mouth was slick, his eyes still hungry. He leaned over, kissing you deep and dirty so you could taste yourself on his tongue, and whispered, “Next time you want to play with your toys, you do it while I watch. Got it?”

As Sunghoon started spending more nights at your place, he made it a habit to try every toy in your collection. He’d probably tried every last one on you, determined to learn which ones made you come the hardest. But his absolute favorite wasn’t from your drawer at all, it was something he picked out and bought himself. A sleek black plug that vibrated on command.

You’d given him attitude about it. He just smiled, handed you the plug, and watched as you put it in before work. That was three hours ago.

Now, you were walking through the office with the plug buried deep inside, thighs clenched tight even though Sunghoon hadn’t so much as touched the remote yet. You couldn’t deny there was a weird thrill in the risk, in not knowing when or if he’d use it. But after weeks together, you also knew that Sunghoon loved pushing your limits… Especially in public.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He caught up to you in the hallway.

You smiled at him, adjusting the stack of files in your arms. “Hi, Sungchan!”

He grinned back and took half your papers before you could protest. “Hey, where have you been lately? We haven’t seen you at a single dinner since the last quarter ended.”

You scrambled for an excuse that didn’t involve confessing that Sunghoon had been monopolizing all your nights lately. “Oh, uh… I had family visiting, so I’ve been showing them around.”

He nodded, believing it. “Ah, I see. Still, it’d be nice if you could make it to the next one. I miss—uh, we miss you over there.”

You smiled back, heart squeezing a bit at his earnestness. “I miss it too. I’ll definitely be there next—AH!”

A sudden jolt of vibration inside you cut your sentence short. Your knees nearly buckled as the plug came to life rocketing through your core.

Sungchan stopped, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

You forced a brittle smile, fighting to stay upright. “Y-yeah, sorry. Leg cramp. Must’ve overdone it at Pilates.”

The toy started again, stronger this time. You bit down a whimper, gripping the papers tighter as your thighs squeezed together in helpless reaction.

You didn’t need to look far for the culprit. Sunghoon strolled out of the copy room at that exact moment, remote hidden in his palm, satisfaction flickering behind his polite mask. He had clearly listened to every word of your conversation and waited for the perfect moment to torture you.

“Oh, boss!” Sungchan said, bowing politely. 

“Everything alright here?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face. You could tell from the curl at the corner of his mouth that he was enjoying every second of your squirming.

Sungchan nodded, shifting the papers in his arms. “I was just helping Y/N with these reports.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked downward, taking in your shaky legs. “Miss Y/L/N, are you feeling alright? You seem… tense.”

You met his eyes, breathless, fighting not to murder him on the spot. “I’m fine. Really. Just… cramps.”

He tilted his head, feigning concern as his thumb rolled the dial a little higher. The vibration inside you grew wicked and relentless.

“Let me know if you need to step away,” he said, voice low and laced with dark amusement. “I wouldn’t want you to be… uncomfortable at work.”

You clenched your jaw and glared at him, vowing silent revenge.

Sungchan stood there awkwardly, still clutching half your paperwork, completely unaware that you were one second away from dropping to your knees from something a lot filthier than “cramps.”

“Miss Y/L/N, a word in my office,” Sunghoon said finally, voice pleasant enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him. His thumb pressed the remote again and another deep vibration nearly made you cry. Your hand shot out, steadying yourself on the wall as Sungchan frowned in concern.

“I’ll take those,” Sunghoon added, collecting the reports from Sungchan with a civil nod. “Thank you, Sungchan. That’ll be all.”

He waited for you to follow, every step a test of your composure. You walked, feeling every throb, every twist of sensation as the plug kept buzzing on and off in random intervals.

As soon as his office door clicked shut, Sunghoon pressed you back against it and his mouth was on your neck. His hand trailed down your spine, under your skirt, gripping your ass with possessive force. You gasped, hips bucking against his.

He didn’t bother hiding his hunger. “On your knees. Right now.”

You dropped, the plush carpet digging into your knees as you looked up at him. Your hands trembled, but he just pressed the remote again, sending another jolt through the toy. He kept his gaze locked on yours, undoing his belt slowly, his cock was already thick and hard when he pulled it out.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” he said, biting his lip. “If you touch me before I say, or if you stop moving, you don’t get to cum. Understand?”

You nodded, biting your lip as he guided himself to your mouth. The plug thrummed inside you again and the sharp waves of pleasure made your whole body twitch. “Speak”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said, smirking as you took him in, hollowing your cheeks and letting spit drip down your chin. 

He thrust in shallowly but he was big enough to make you gag. The plug buzzed again matching his rhythm, torturing you until you were a quivering mess.

“So good,” he praised, one hand tangled in your hair as you sucked him down. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth. You love it, don’t you?”

You whimpered around him, letting your tongue swirl around his, eyes focused on a vein that kept pulsing agains your nose. He pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air, thumb swiping the mess from your lips. “If you want to come, keep working for it.”

You took him back in, letting him fuck your throat while the toy buzzed harder inside you. You were shaking, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. He watched you mesmerized, drinking in the sight of you debased and ruined.

He pressed the remote, cutting the vibration just as you were about to tip over, and you whined, hips bucking in frustration. He just laughed, thrusting deeper, hips stuttering as you gagged around him, drool and precum slicking your chin.

“Beg for it,” he said, pulling you off with a pop. “Tell me why you deserve to come.”

You sobbed, voice shaking. “Please, Sunghoon, I’ve been good, so good… Please let me come—I need it, I need you—”

He groaned, thumb stroking your cheek. “Yes, such a good girl.” He yanked you to your feet, spinning you and bending you over his desk. 

He pinned you down with one hand between your shoulder blades, while the other finally reached between your legs. He pressed the remote again but on full power this time, the plug vibrating so violently it nearly knocked the sense from you.

He thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt, the sensation almost too much to bear with the toy still inside you. “You cum when I say. Not a second before. Or I’ll leave you aching all night.”

He fucked you hard against his expensive mahogany desk. It’d been a while since you found yourself in this situation.The first time, you'd been on the verge of quitting. Now, you were in so deep the thought of leaving almost felt absurd.

The room filled with the sound of skin on skin. “So fucking tight around my cock, you’re made to be used, aren’t you? You want everyone to know how filthy you are?”

You could only nod, biting the desk to stifle your screams.

When he finally let you come, it was with a snarl of permission. Your body convulsed, legs trembling so hard you nearly collapsed. He followed with a growl, pulling out at the last second to empty himself around your legs.

He leaned in, breath hot on your ear. “You did good, baby. But next time, if you stop for even a second, I’ll edge you in every meeting until you’re begging on your knees in front of everyone.”

He pulled himself into his pants again nd handed you a tissue with a twisted smile. “Don’t you dare take that plug out until I tell you.”

On Friday, you let your best friend Jiah drag you to a tiny café two blocks from the office. It had been weeks since you’d seen her in person, and she was determined to catch up over overpriced pastries and matcha lattes.

Jiah perched on the edge of her seat, eyes bright. “So? How’s the office drama? Last time we talked you were ready to throw a stapler at your boss.”

You forced a laugh, swirling foam with your straw. “The drama hasn’t died but let’s just say my ways of coping are … better.”

She wiggled her brows. “Oooh, do tell.”

You dodged, asking about her family instead. Jiah launched into updates, including a long tangent about her older sister, Yerin.

“You remember Yerin’s boyfriend? The med-school guy?” Jiah said, breaking off a piece of croissant. “She just found out she’s pregnant.”

Your brows shot up. “Seriously? Weren’t they being careful?”

“That’s the thing… They were doing the pull-out method.” Jiah rolled her eyes. “He swore he had ‘great timing’ Turns out pre-cum can have sperm, so… surprise baby.”

You choked on your latte. “Wait, that can happen? I thought it was only risky if—”

“Nope.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Doc told her even a tiny amount can be enough. She was only a week late before the test lit up like a Christmas tree.”

A cold prickle slid down your spine. Two weeks late. You did a quick mental calculation. Your own period was… what, four days overdue now? Maybe five? You’d chalked it up to stress and the whirlwind that was Park Sunghoon, but now every twinge in your body felt like a warning siren.

Jiah kept talking, but her voice blurred under the thud of your own heartbeat. You flashed back to all the times Sunghoon pulled out only at the last second… or sometimes not at all. Most of the times you’d had sex it was either after an argument or an emotional moment where neither of you paid much attention to anything other than getting into each other’s pants. You thought you were safe enough. Apparently you had thought wrong.

“Y/N? You zoning out on me?” Jiah frowned.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Work headache.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand. “Take a break this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and checked your watch, suddenly eager to leave. You hugged her goodbye outside the café, then headed straight to the corner pharmacy. In your mind you could already see two pink lines and Sunghoon’s cold expression.

Inside the bright aisles, you grabbed the first pregnancy test pack you saw, plus a bottle of aspirin for the impending migraine that was coming your way. Receipt in hand, you tucked everything into your bag and headed home, with your stomach in knots.

In the elevator up to your apartment, you pressed a palm to your flat abdomen and exhaled. Maybe your cycle was just off. It wouldn’t be the first time. Still, you couldn’t shake this weird feeling. The memory of Sunghoon’s hands on your hips, his whispered orders, and the way he sometimes pulsed inside you before he pulled out.

Richard greeted you at the door with a questioning meow. You set the test on the bathroom sink, heart pounding so loud you almost didn’t hear him.

“Give me a minute, buddy,” you whispered.

You pulled out tue test and stared at the white stick on the sink like it was a cursed object.

Three minutes. That’s what the instructions said. Wait three minutes to know what the rest of your life would look like. But you were already sweating thirty seconds in, pacing in tight circles while Richard watched from the hallway as if he somehow knew something serious was happening.

You didn’t feel pregnant. Whatever that meant. You felt tired, bloated, a little nauseous…but you’d asummed it all the work stress, Sunghoon, bad sleep, and probably the coffee addiction you’d reignited. You kept telling yourself that. Over and over. But still… your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You set a timer on your phone and turned it face down. The longest three minutes of your life ticked by. You tried distracting yourself by doomscrolling and petting Richard. Nothing worked. Your eyes kept flicking toward the bathroom, it was as if the damn test was whispering your name from the counter.

Finally the timer went off and the sound startled you so bad, you had to steel yourself before you flipped the phone and stepped back into the bathroom.

Two lines.

Two very, very pink lines.

You picked up the test with shaky fingers, hoping maybe your vision was just messed up. You held it up to the light. Still two lines. 

“Oh my god.” Your voice came out hoarse. “Oh my god.”

You sank onto the floor, test still in hand in your shaky hands. Your mouth was dry. Your skin felt clammy. The terrifying, irreversible shift of knowing your body wasn’t just yours anymore. 

The idea settled like a stone in your gut. You didn’t know what to feel or think. 

How far along? When did it happen? Was it that night in the bathroom? His apartment? The goddamn copy room?

You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying not to panic. You were smart. It wasn’t like you to miss something as important as using protection. God, it was because Sunghoon distracted you in ways no one else did. 

You glanced down at the test again. Still two lines. Still screaming the same thing.

Richard meowed softly from the doorway. You looked at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm, heart pounding with dread and disbelief. The first thing you saw was the positive pregnancy test on your nightstand as undeniable proof of your stupidity. You grabbed your bag and headed to the pharmacy the second it opened. Just to be sure. Maybe the first one was faulty, or expired, or just wrong. It had to be.

But it wasn’t.

You sat in your bathroom, knees drawn to your chest, staring at two pink lines for the second time in twelve hours. No matter how many times you blinked, they didn’t change. You called your doctor’s office and managed to snag an appointment for later that afternoon.

Now came the harder part which was getting out of work. That meant you had to face Sunghoon.

You waited until after the rush of meetings to slip into his office. He was at his desk, brow furrowed over some report. He barely looked up.

“What is it?” His tone was brisk, but you could hear the familiar thread of concern woven through.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “I need to leave a little early today. I, uh, have a personal appointment.”

His eyes flickered up. “What kind of appointment?”

You felt your pulse spike. “Just… some stuff I’ve been putting off. Nothing serious.” You tried to sound casual, but even to your own ears it was a little too shaky.

He didn’t look convinced. “You don’t usually ask to leave early. Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Fine. It’s nothing, really.”

He watched you for a long moment, then nodded, though his gaze was sharper now. “All right. You can go. Just let me know if you need anything.”

You managed a tight smile, thanked him, and hurried out. The relief was only temporary. You felt his eyes on you as you packed up your bag later. You kept your head down, moving quickly through the halls, trying to breathe. You just needed to get out without drawing attention.

But as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you heard your name.

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Sunghoon coming after you. He stopped in front of you, face tight with concern.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, lowering his voice. “You’ve been weird all week, and now you’re leaving in the middle of the day. Did something happen? Is someone bothering you?”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “I told you, I just have an appointment.”

He studied you, eyes searching your face for the truth. “If it’s something serious, you know you can tell me, right?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise.”

He didn’t move. “Y/N—”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I just… need a day, okay?” You stepped around him, heart pounding.

He watched you go, suspicion and worry etched into every line of his face.

You barely noticed the city traffic as you made your way to your doctor’s office. Part of you wished you could just tell him, have him hold you, promise that everything would be all right. But you weren’t ready.

And you had no idea what he’d do when he finally found out.

You spent the entire afternoon at the clinic—filling out forms with trembling hands, answering questions you barely heard, and then sitting through the blood test, heart racing the whole time. The nurse gave you a gentle smile as she bandaged your arm, telling you the results would be ready the next day. You nodded numbly, thanked her, and collected your things. You felt both lighter and heavier at once—like the truth was closing in from all sides.

Outside, dusk was already settling over the city. You wrapped your coat tighter around you and pushed through the clinic doors, bracing for cold air and the blur of street noise.

What you didn’t expect was to see Sunghoon leaning against the rail, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the entrance like he’d been waiting there for hours.

You stopped short, a fresh wave of anxiety crashing through you. “Sunghoon?”

He looked you up and down, his eyes dark with worry. “So it was a doctor’s appointment.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You clutched your purse tighter.

“Are you sick?” he asked quietly, stepping closer, scanning your face for any sign of injury or pain. “Or is it something worse?”

You shook your head quickly, voice barely more than a whisper. “No. I’m not sick.”

He exhaled, but didn’t relax. “Then what is it? You’ve been acting strange all week. Avoiding me, lying about where you’re going—” He broke off, jaw working. “Are you in trouble? Is someone—?”

“No,” you said, sharper than you meant. “It’s not like that. I just… I needed to figure some things out on my own first.”

He let that hang in the air, the weight of your silence stretching between you. Finally, he spoke, voice much softer. “Okay… and did you figure it out?”

You looked away, blinking hard. “I’ll know tomorrow,” you managed. 

He nodded slowly, studying you for a long moment before speaking again. “I have an important meeting, but I’ll take you home first.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Come on.”

He extended his hand toward you, and for a second, you hesitated. But eventually, your fingers curled around his. You’d never walked together like this before—hand in hand, quiet, deliberate—and it felt oddly intimate. Like a threshold you weren’t sure either of you had meant to cross.

If you were pregnant… would Sunghoon want to make things official? Would he ask you to be with him just because of a child? You weren’t even sure what you were to him now. But the thought grew heavier with each step you took beside him.

You bit down on your quivering lip, stopping without meaning to.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to face you. His brow furrowed when he saw your eyes glassy with tears. He stepped close and framed your face with gentle palms. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…” You didn’t want to tell him yet, not until you were completely sure. But it felt like a weight on your chest, making it harder to breathe. And when he looked at you like that, with concern instead of distance, part of you wanted to believe he wouldn’t hate you.

“I took a pregnancy test yesterday.”

His thumb paused its soothing sweep across your cheek. You swallowed. “Two tests, actually…They were both positive.”

He didn’t speak for eight whole seconds. You counted. And in those eight seconds, your mind conjured every worst-case scenario. Maybe he’d pull away and leave. Maybe he’d say you did this on purpose, and accuse you of trying to trap him. Maybe he’d deny it was even his.

“You’re pregnant?” was all he said, softly.

He didn’t look angry. Or disgusted. Just… serious. Like he was processing.

“I don’t know,” you replied quickly, heart racing. “The tests aren’t always accurate. I looked it up… if they’re expired or stored too long, they can give false results. Or if you think you’re pregnant, your body can sometimes trick itself, and the hormone levels get messed up and—” You stopped, breath catching. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

He watched you quietly, then asked, “And you got blood work today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But the lab closed early, so I won’t get results until tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said, exhaling. “I’ll come with you.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do.” His tone was firm but not angry. “Y/N, I’m just as involved in this as you. Just… don’t push me away, alright?”

You looked up into his eyes and, for a moment, saw a flicker of emotion you’d never seen before. Maybe he was nervous too, but he was holding it together for both of you. He didn’t seem angry. If anything, he seemed determined to stay.

It was the first time in days you didn’t feel completely alone. You let yourself lean into that support, just for now.

When you got to your apartment, Sunghoon decided to stay, and you didn’t protest. The thought of being alone right now was almost unbearable.

“Are you hungry? I’m assuming you didn’t eat lunch today,” he said, slipping off his suit jacket.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I didn’t.” You only just realized how hollow your stomach felt.

“I’ll make something for you,” he offered.

You turned your head slowly on the couch, eyeing him skeptically. “You cook?”

“I’m not the best,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But I make the best fried abalone you’ll ever taste.”

“Really…” you said, doubt dripping from your tone.

He cracked a grin. “You’ll see.”

Turns out he did make the best butter-fried abalones you’d ever tasted. And this was coming from someone who’d always been on the fence about seafood. You scraped your plate nearly clean, only stopping when you realized licking it would cross some sort of line.

You let out a blissed sigh. “This food just fucked me and sucked me good.”

Sunghoon paused mid-bite, eyes flicking up with a look of disbelief and amusement. “I’ve never had my cooking reviewed quite like that.”

You laughed, patting your stomach happily. “No, seriously. If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve locked you up in my apartment weeks ago.”

He set down his chopsticks, grinning. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about this scenario.”

“I’m not joking! I’ve basically been living off ramen and fast food for months. Half the time I barely manage a smoothie before work.”

He tilted his head, giving you a look that was half playful, half serious. “That won’t do. Especially if…” His gaze slid to your stomach and stayed there, almost protectively. “If you really are pregnant, you’re going to need proper meals.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the image of a domestic Sunghoon cooking in your kitchen, massaging your sore feet, texting you pictures of baby onesies, reading articles about parenting and sending you dumb memes about fatherhood. 

Stop. You can’t do this to yourself.

Even if you were pregnant, that didn’t mean you’d suddenly fall in love and ride off into a pastel colored domestic fantasy with Park Sunghoon. You barely tolerated each other just a few months ago. You couldn’t afford to forget that.

You shook your head with a weak laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d told me last year I’d be having a pregnancy scare with my boss… the same boss who made me bite my nails bloody from stress, I would’ve died laughing.”

Sunghoon’s smile faded a bit as he mulled that over. “I’m sorry for treating you that way.” 

You looked up, surprised by the earnestness in his voice.

“I mean it. I… I don’t really have an excuse. But if I had to give you one, I guess it’s because I wanted your attention.”

You blinked, surprised. “You wanted my attention?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know I went about it the absolute worst way, but I’ve never really been good at… expressing things. And you were so closed off to me at first. It felt like the only way I could get you to even look at me was to—well, be an asshole.”

You weren’t sure what to say. His apology wasn’t perfect, but it was genuine and oddly vulnerable. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” you said at last. “But… thank you for being here.”

He met your eyes. “Whatever the result is, you won’t handle it alone. I mean that.”

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind spun through a reel of possible futures—some terrifying, some strangely sweet, all overwhelming. By sunrise, you’d already been awake for hours, lying in bed with Richard stretched across your ankles, thinking about what the day might bring.

You moved through your morning routine on autopilot, barely tasting your coffee, feeling your nerves build with every tick of the clock. Work had never seemed so impossible. How were you supposed to focus on emails and deadlines when your entire life could be about to change?

By the time you arrived at the office, the overhead lights felt too bright and the air too cold. You kept your head down, clutching your bag a little tighter than usual as you made your way to your desk.

Sunghoon walked in a few minutes after you. You’d agreed to arrive separately to keep things from looking suspicious but even so, when he passed your desk, his eyes couldn’t help but flick your way for just a moment.

You tried to lose yourself in your work so the day would go basted, but it didn’t work. Every ping from your computer made you jump. Every time someone said your name, your heart pounded.

Mina, your coworker, leaned over the divider. “Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

You offered a thin smile. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

She nodded, not pressing, but you could feel her worry lingering as she turned back to her monitor. You wished you could tell her. The secret felt too big to hold, like it might crack open and spill everywhere at any moment.

A few hours later, as you were rereading the same email for the third time, you felt someone pause beside your desk. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Can I see you in my office?” Sunghoon’s voice was soft enough that only you could hear.

You followed him. The short walk down the hallway felt impossibly long, every step echoing your anxiety. When the door closed behind you, the world shrank to just the two of you.

He didn’t go behind his desk but leaned back against the edge, watching you for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

It was a simple question, but it nearly broke you. You looked away, blinking fast. “Nervous… and tired. I barely slept.”

He nodded, hands fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “Me too.” A pause. “I kept thinking about a lot of things.”

You looked at him then. He looked tired too, circles under his eyes, the usual sharpness of his appearance dulled by something softer. “I thought about a lot of things too,” you admitted quietly. “What if I am? What if I’m not? I can’t even figure out what I want to happen.”

He let out a slow breath. “Me neither. I used to think I’d hate the idea… you know, of being responsible for someone else, losing control over my own life. But the last couple days… it’s been all I can think about. I keep imagining what it would be like.”

There was a long silence. You watched the morning light creep across his office, a bright line cutting between you on the floor.

“But no matter what happens at that appointment, I want you to know I’m here. I mean it. I know I’ve been an asshole before, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

“Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you thought possible.

You stood there, both of you, caught in a moment that felt both terrifying and fragile and knowing the day ahead would change everything, one way or another.

By the time you left the office, the sky was navy. You walked the two blocks to the clinic in near silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Rather, it felt like gathering strength. Halfway there, Sunghoon slipped his fingers between yours.

You paused in front of the clinic, breaths streaming white in the cold air. Inside waited an envelope with your name and a single line of text that could redraw your future.

Sunghoon rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. “Ready?”

You looked up at him. The sharp boss, the reluctant cook, the man who’d stayed when he could have run—all in one complicated silhouette. 

You inhaled, exhaled, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The clinic’s waiting room was almost empty this late in the evening. A muted newscast flickered across a wall-mounted TV; the only other patient was a teen scrolling on her phone. You and Sunghoon sat in the far corner, coats draped over your laps, hands still laced together. Every tick of the reception clock seemed amplified.

You tried counting your breaths—four in, four out—but your pulse wouldn’t slow. If it’s positive, life will change tonight.Strangely, the thought no longer panicked you as it had twenty-four hours ago. Sunghoon’s steady grip helped anchor that.

A nurse finally appeared and called your name. You rose; he rose with you. She led you down a short hallway into a small consultation room, pastel posters about prenatal vitamins on the walls. A moment later Dr. Han entered with a file—your file—clasped to her chest. She greeted you both with the same gentle warmth as the day before and took a seat opposite.

You could feel Sunghoon’s thumb tracing a slow circle over your knuckles. He was outwardly calm, but his hand was slightly clammy.

Dr. Han opened the folder. “Good evening. I have the results of your quantitative hCG test.” She looked up, meeting your gaze first, then Sunghoon’s. “It’s negative. You’re not pregnant.”

The words settled like falling snow—soft, definitive, almost silent. For a heartbeat you simply stared, processing. Not pregnant. Relief rushed in, light and dizzying… and then something else, a bittersweet pang that surprised you.

Sunghoon exhaled so slowly you felt it more than heard it. He squeezed your hand once, gently. There was no visible disappointment or joy—just that same grounded steadiness he’d shown all day.

Dr. Han continued, explaining the false positives. “They can happen for a few reasons: chemical pregnancies that end very early, residual hCG from a recent miscarriage, certain fertility medications, even test strips that have degraded in storage. Urine tests are convenient, but they’re not infallible. Your bloodwork is conclusive, though—there’s no ongoing pregnancy.”

You nodded, swallowing. “Thank you for explaining.”

She offered a reassuring smile, discussed cycle-tracking apps, suggested a follow-up if your period remained irregular, and then excused herself. When the door clicked shut, you finally let your shoulders drop.

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your throat ache.

“So,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper, “no baby.”

“No baby,” he echoed softly.

You waited for the wave of relief to crest. It did—but it carried an undertow of unexpected wistfulness. You glanced at him, searching his face for clues. He met your eyes and seemed to read the question there.

“I thought I’d feel only relief,” he admitted, tone quiet, honest. “But I… don’t. Not entirely.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Me either. How weird is that?”

He stepped closer, still holding your hand, his other palm settling warm against your cheek. “Maybe it’s not weird,” he said. “These last few days… thinking about what might happen. It made me see things differently.”

You felt tears prick but didn’t look away. “Differently how?”

He drew a steady breath, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, almost shy smile—an expression you’d never thought possible on Park Sunghoon. “I realized I want more than late-night reports and stress-induced hookups. I want… an us.Maybe a house that smells like butter-fried abalones,”—the smile widened when you laughed—“and maybe, someday, an actual crib. Not because we panicked into it, but because we chose it together.”

Your heart thudded, a warm bloom spreading through your chest. “You’re serious?” you whispered.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He cupped both hands around your face now, thumb brushing the skin under your eye. “I’ve always been good at work and terrible at feelings. You make me want to fix the second part.”

You covered his hands with yours. “I want that too,” you said, the truth ringing clear once you spoke it. “I want to see what us looks like when it’s not tangled up in deadlines and copy-room insanity.”

He kissed your forehead softly then rested his own against it. “Then we start slow. We can go on real dates, have real conversations.” A wry grin tugged at his lips. “And maybe slightly fewer vibrating toys at the office.”

You laughed, leaning into him, feeling lighter than you had in months. “Deal. Although the toys are negotiable.”

“Good.” He kissed you properly this time, full of promise rather than urgency. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Great,” he said, entwining your fingers as you headed for the door. “Because I’ve been perfecting my abalone recipe.”

“Is that so?” you teased, bumping his shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to lock you in my kitchen for real then.”

His laugh echoed down the hallway, and you felt the future open wide.

Epilogue- 8 Months Later

You sat perched on the padded table, swinging your feet lightly, dressed in a pale blue smock. Your hands were folded over your barely-there bump.

You were twelve weeks along.

Sunghoon was sitting in the chair beside you, one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Despite the long day at work, he didn’t look tired. If anything, he looked anxious. 

“I still don’t get how it happened this fast,” you muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at him. “We were careful.”

He shrugged, lips tugging into a small smile. “Were we? I remember at least two times that we definitely weren’t.”

“Two?” You blinked. “I can name at least four.”

He laughed softly, leaning closer and resting his hand against your belly. “Well. One of them worked.”

The nurse came in, breaking the moment. “Doctor Han will be in shortly to do your first ultrasound,” she said kindly. “You’ll be able to hear the heartbeat today.”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. You reached out and took his hand without looking. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, but the word cracked slightly. “I just… hearing it makes it real.”

You squeezed his hand. “It is real.”

He nodded once. “I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless.”

You turned to him, voice gentle. “Me too, but we have each other.”

He brought your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Always.”

The doctor arrived shortly after, warm and chatty as always. You laid back on the table and pulled the gown open. The cold jelly over your stomach made you jolt. Sunghoon stood by your side, fingers still laced in yours, eyes glued to the screen scared that he might miss it if he blinked.

And then there it was. A grainy flicker, pulsing steadily in the center of the screen.

“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor said with a small smile. “It sounds strong and regular. Everything looks perfect.”

The sound filled the room like thunder. Tiny, rapid thuds that made your chest swell. You blinked fast, swallowing the lump in your throat. When you looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were glassy.

He was crying. Not a lot—just one tear, maybe two—but the sight floored you.

He didn’t say a word. Just leaned down and kissed your forehead, staying there for a long second, breathing you in.

Later, in the car, he reached for your hand again and said quietly, “I don’t think I knew what love really felt like until now.”

You looked over, a bit surprised. “Because of the baby?”

“Because of you,” he said. “And now… both of you.”

You turned your face toward the window, hiding the stupid smile curling on your lips, blinking fast again.

At home, Richard sat perched on the windowsill as usual like a little orange gargoyle. When you kicked off your shoes, he jumped down and padded over to inspect you.

Sunghoon leaned in from behind, resting both hands over your stomach. “Alright, Richard. You’d better get used to sharing her.”

Richard meowed.

You smiled. “That sounded like reluctant acceptance to me.”

“Good enough,” Sunghoon murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

The house felt warm and safe. There were butter abalones in the microwave and ultrasound photos on the kitchen counter.

And for the first time in your life, waiting didn’t feel scary.

feedback is always appreciated! <3 tysm for reading

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- light angst, explicit sex, oral ( f receiving) breed kink (it's me so lol) mating press, multi rounds, honestly cute, sweet and fucking emotional!!! WC - 10k

A/N- THE HAPPY END IS HERE! Sooo the beginning 4k words or so are VERY similar to the angst end, but don't skip them because I put a lot of little nuances and deviations! I hope you enjoy the happy ending and the complete end of this fic <3 I'd love to hear thoughts!!

<<<Part five (Sad end) - Playlist - Masterlist

Happy Ending (Sugu/Reader end!)

Suguru lifts you up into his arms, as tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there while all he can focus on is you, the guilt eating at his heart. Your unconscious body lolls in his arms as Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, all while holding you so tightly against his chest.

Satoru waits for Suguru, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened, he wanted to pick you up and bring you to Shoko, but Suguru had snatched you up so quickly he had no chance to. Suguru is carrying you around and murmuring his soft orders, not letting you leave his grip.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought Suguru never would feel that way again.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru when he brushes back a lock of hair from your brow, itching to smack his hand off. “Don’t touch my wife.” Suguru’s words are husky, through his teeth, as Satoru’s blue eyes dart back to his, raising a white brow.

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. Why don’t I carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear, and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her!?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up closer against his chest, violet eyes glaring now at Satoru, and you hang so limply he feels sick, like you’re just nothing in his arms, barely any signs of life aside from soft breaths.

“You won’t hold my wife in your fucking arms.” 

“Fine, then follow, now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

But Satoru is fucking right - it’s all him.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Suguru glares over at him. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes she is but it’s not your place to fucking say.” Satoru smiles just a bit, something about seeing his friend actually fucking caring about something for once, even if his ire is directed at him right now. Suguru looks at Shoko now, swallowing nervously as he speaks. “She is pregnant.”

Shoko sighs now, nodding and assessing you carefully. “Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee the baby will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak,  pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder with her technique, the glow soft around you, hovering right over your tummy where a baby exists.

“Please just save her.” Suguru whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Lovemaking, it was lovemaking.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen. Why couldn’t he just give you a chance, why couldn’t he be there for you!?

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, every single human for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, you, in a room with two people who loved him once, who cared for him once, and he never deserved any of it. Of your body, of your heart, didn’t deserve any kindness that you - rarely - bestowed upon him, your sweet pleas nor your desperate cries for more of him.

Now that he sees you, and it’s been a good twenty minutes, he’s pacing, his stomach sick and turning, his mind a tumultuous storm of moments where it all changed. Of moments where everything shifted, the life and family he thought he built all lost to a girl, who slapped him, who cursed him, who overtook his heart.

You.

“It’s not working.” He says after more time passes with no sign of anything from you in the quiet room, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, okay? Her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.” Suguru can’t stand to look then, turning away, his robes still dripping the blood of others, as the woman he loves is unconscious.

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly as he contemplates it, with a startled gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his blue eyes revealed is staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look at Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear… and more, so much more brimming to the surface. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.” Your whisper makes him squeeze you so tightly you can’t breathe, before pulling back, glaring down at you.

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Suguru…”

“Just a minute.” You nod, but something is tugging at your heart.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what exactly had happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

Suguru feels sick as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…” Satoru shakes his head again, and eyes you now.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals. “Your family is in that fucking room.”

“I know, fuck… but she has a chance to be happy, to have that baby - the way it’s going? She won’t even get to with me. Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, they glimmer and illuminate, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him, hating the mix of comfort and sorrow this man brings. “I know,” he whispers, as if to soothe you, only for you to be infuriated, feeling anger hot coursing through your veins.

You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now. “You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.” His broken voice and tired gaze stall you, not after all of this would he not fucking choose you again!? Not after carving his place in your heart entirely does he get to leave!?

You pause now, gasping at his audacity, feeling him tense, emotionally pulling away from you again. “What the fuck are you on about right now?”

Instead of the usual arguments, the back and forth, Suguru is just contemplative, listening to you before he speaks. “It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low.

“So you’re selfish, what’s new?” Your angry whisper just makes him ache for you, god is there one moment he doesn’t? Is there one second in any universe he thinks he will live without you - he wants to do the right thing now, to let you go, but how can he, when you’re so deeply ingrained inside his fucking soul?

The one bright spot that he almost took out completely clings to him, and why should you?

 “I almost killed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head now, scowl firm on your tired, beautiful features.

“You didn’t just almost kill me, you almost killed everyone in the fucking city! Suguru, I’m fine, this is not even what you should be worried about.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do, his voice terrifying you in its intensity. “Told me what?”

Suguru cups your face with one hand, heart pounding as he feels it, so deep in his soul, finally ready to spill those words. “I love you,” you gasp then, and his heart hammers nearly out of his chest as the declaration spills from his lips. “Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.”

His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear, his love.

Loves you.

He loves you.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.” His broken voice and tears infuriate you as much as they deeply touch you.

You glare now, trying to hold it together, when you feel like shattering. “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you run!”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough. “I won’t forgive you ever.”

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-” The shock of his words hits you like a wave, like what knocked you to the fucking floor earlier, the dread in your stomach.

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy, but he sees it - how Satoru looks at you. Maybe he could give you what you deserve, as much as he selfishly wants you, as badly as this hurts to do or say.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks in frustration, the thick strands falling across his face as he watches the girl he loves shatter because of him, all over again. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break.

“How can I look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Suguru,” you pull back, tears falling against his fingers, breaths making your chest rise and fall, as you cling to his robes, the blood soaking against your skin, enveloping it in red. “You’re mine, you don’t get to leave me.”

He whispers your name then, his own tears falling, against your lips salty as he hovers over you, exhaling shakily. “I don’t deserve you though, you or this baby, not after what I did to you.”

“Then you’ll earn it, you’ll earn the right of me standing by your side. You’ll become better, I know it, fuck I do. There’s more to you.” Your foreheads touch, while he finally breaks down then, picking you up in his arms now, your lips are angry, hungry, tugging with your teeth as he nips you with his. Your tongues messy and desperate while you drink each others’ cries in, echoing in the quiet room.

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t…” His whispers break you, a broken man declaring them hot against your throat, as he breaks down for you, and you bury your face against his neck, letting him hold you up like it’s nothing, clinging to him then. Feeling every bit of your soul drawn to him, despite it all.

“I need you goddammit, you don’t get to leave me. Us. I’ll beat the fuck out of you if you try, it’s not even funny you psycho.” He exhales, easing you down then, you’re dizzy with desire, with need, thrumming through every inch of your skin, as he leans back, eyeing you under lashes dripping with tears.

“How can you love somebody like me?” His broken whisper destroys any resolve you have left, you know all he has done to you, you can only imagine what he has done to others, but deep down you know one thing to be true-

You do love him.

“I just do, there’s no reason for it, there’s no reason for any human emotion, Suguru Geto. We just feel.” Your tremulous smile, amidst everything he’s done breaks him down, bit by bit, as his heart pounds for you, as his body aches for you, thoughts of ‘what ifs’ flowing through his mind.

What if he did let Satoru care for you?

What if he just left you now?

What if you fell in love, what if you moved on, and were so happy, and got everything he ‘thinks’ you deserved, leaving him alone forever - because he knows damn well he will never want or be with anyone else ever again. What if he had let you go, and had not gotten to see you again, hold you again, kiss your lips? Have you under him, on him, have you?

He almost just did that, one choice and he was going to push you away, when all you wanted was to be let in. He takes a deep breath, an arm wrapped tight around you, bringing you firm against his chest. “I don’t know if I can learn to live with humans, aside from you. I don’t know if I can lose all this hatred.”

“Then we’ll go, we’ll go away. And we’ll try, every day. Okay?” He nods then, you exhale and kiss him once more, the kiss is so different than any before, deeper than either of you have had, while he drinks it in, the girl he doesn’t deserve, the life he’s not sure he should get to have, because you love him.

Does he deserve that love, finally?

“You deserve love.” Your words speak to the questions stirring in his soul, and for the first time in so long, Suguru is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to pull it together, holding you in a bruising grip as he just cries then.

Suguru crying.

He has not felt emotions since long ago in Jujutsu high, when he watched his loved ones die, when he lost faith in everything he knew, something he thought died that day glimmers and breaks free. The girl in his arms that he treated horribly who for some odd reason loves him, then he knows - he can’t keep going like this, he has to give everything for you.

“I’ll try, Princess.” His soft tone breaks you down further, so upset in your wracking sobs he pulls back a bit, swiping them off your cheeks with one hand, the other bringing you against his chest. “Calm down, please… take a breath.”

“You really stress a girl the fuck out.” He chuckles a bit, earning a punch from your little balled up fist while you sniffle. “You don’t get to laugh about it.”

“I know, I know.” He brushes your hair back gently, studying a face of a girl that’s been hurt too much, too deeply, but the joy of hearing you say it all overwhelms his senses. He sighs again, tilting your chin up, studying your swollen lips carefully, a thumb brushing across the thin and bitten flesh. “You really want to be with me? I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want your ‘out’. I want you, the real you too, not this bullshit cult leader crap. I want the boy who Satoru has fought so hard to get back, I want the boy I met, he’s in there, okay?” He looks away then, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if he is in there.”

“He is, and you know it.”

He wants to believe you, but he finds he’s selfish for not leaving you in that moment, for instead picking you up gently in his arms, bridal style - remembering that first night with you. The first time he touched you, and he knew how deeply he felt, that he assumed you must have powers, but you did in fact have them, they were just different than anything he’d ever seen.

He speaks it then, softly. “You’re not just human.”

“Suguru you-”

“You’ve got a power.” You roll your eyes now, infuriated at the annoying man you chose to fall for.

Well you never chose to. You just did.

“You will not even act like you don’t love a human-”

“Power to bring me to my knees,” he continues, in a husky voice, and when he presses you more tightly to him, lips an inch from yours, the world fades, everything fades but this singular moment. “The power to make me give up anything, do anything for you. Kill anyone who hurts you, even if it’s myself.”

“Suguru-” He cuts you off again, kissing you as he cradles you so tightly, you feel his strength even as his body shakes with his emotions, with his regret, with his need.

“I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it. If I do, you get to twist that knife in my fucking chest.” You shake your head, but he just reiterates it, softly.

“I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You have all the power over me. You’re my everything.” You take the hand wrapped around you, placing it on your tummy, heating up as his violet gaze drifts down to it.

“We are your everything, Suguru. Of course, Mimiko and Nanako too. We can be… a family. If you’re willing.” He nods then, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead now. “Then let’s get them, and find… a home. A new home.”

He exhales against your skin, nodding as he carries you out, and Satoru Gojo is leaning against the wall, blindfold off for once, arms crossed casually when he smiles over at you. You tap Suguru’s shoulder and he glares at you. “You’re awfully friendly with him.”

“You’re acting jealous like you weren’t gonna pawn me off on him. Let me down.” You glare up at him and he sighs, easing you down, Satoru’s lips quirk up at the corners, easing off the wall and walking over to you now, tilting your chin up. His eyes bore into you, gleaming with his own emotions.

“Are you alright? You okay to walk?” He asks softly, you nod then, reaching over to wrap your arms around his waist. He falters for a moment, as you feel Suguru’s death glare, holding you back then, hand resting at the small of your back, warm over your silk kimono. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but cry against his chest, and Suguru looks away then, stepping back for a moment. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No, it was shitty okay? I knew the risk and-”

“No. Thank you, Satoru.” You look up, and his heart hurts when he sees your tears, as his friend avoids even looking at the two of you. “It was the right thing to do, and don’t you dare feel bad.”

He sighs in relief, hugging you again, lips pressed against your ear as he bends down. “You brought my friend back, I should be thanking you.”

You cry more, body shaking and so small in the strong sorcerers hold, as Suguru clears his throat. “You all are a little too close.”

“I can still take care of her if-”

“No!? I mean, no.” Suguru rubs the back of his neck, frowning as he wants to rip his best friend’s arms off. “I was… being…”

“Stupid?” Satoru and you finish, and Suguru crosses his arms now, glaring at the two of you.

“It wouldn’t have been the right decision, especially how you’re pawing at her. Let her go.” Suguru yanks you away, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes, a sound Suguru never really heard from you, breathless, your soft smile lighting up a tragically beautiful face, one he’s kept upset.

“You’re jealous?” You ask, and he scoffs, glaring, while Satoru does not remove his hand, smirking over at him.

“You two are just too close is all. Conspiring this whole time?”

“Maybe so.” You look back to Satoru, smiling again. “We’re going away for a while, but… we’ll be back one day. Won’t we, Suguru?” You hold out a hand now, and he nods stiffly, Satoru sees it then, the love he so clearly has right on his face for you, and the love you have for him, as your hands entwine.

“We will be.” He gruffly repeats, and the three of you stand there for a moment, each hand is held by the two men as they glance at each other, wondering if it’s still there - the deep friendship, and fuck you truly hope it is. Suguru didn’t just need you, he needed him too, and you hope one day your psycho husband can work on his very shitty communication and open up.

“We would’ve had fun together, sweets.” Gojo teases one more time, before Suguru has you yanked up against him, scowling deeper at Satoru, while you giggle, against Suguru’s hard chest, resting your head for a moment.

“You think it would’ve been fun, him pawning me off huh?” You tease back, and are landed right back in Suguru’s arms, while he and Satoru walk out side by side, and sleep starts to tug at your body, still drained from the hit.

“Of course we would have, you wouldn’t have even missed him.” Gojo winks and you giggle, and you’re pretty sure Suguru is about to lose his mind, walking out then to see the wreckage, it takes your breath for a moment, Suguru’s shoulders slump as he takes in the chaos and destruction.

“Hey, we’ll do better than this.” You say softly, caressing his face, a thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. He nods then, sighing and shutting his eyes, as if he can’t take it all in.

“Satoru, thank you for… helping save her.” Satoru blinks in surprise - a thank you is nothing he thought he’d get. “I guess we may cross paths again.”

“I guess we might.” Satoru smiles at you both a little sadly, as if he’d gotten his friend back and he’s going away again, but also it’s a peaceful look, for the moment things are safe for Satoru’s students and friends. For a moment there is peace in his heart as he looks at the two of you. “You’ll have a baby by then.”

“Yes we will.” Suguru murmurs, nodding to him a bit.

“Name it Satoru-”

“No.”

Satoru pouts then, shaking his head. “You know, so ungrateful. I’m out of here, bye sweets.” He winks at you again and throws two fingers up with a grin, disappearing without a trace. You giggle at it, and Suguru keeps glaring daggers.

“You like him far too much.” You sigh, shaking your head.

“We just connect because we both love an emo bitch.”

“An emo… when you’re better, I’m beating the fucking attitude out of you.” Your tummy flips, and you bury your face again in his neck.

“You can’t even do instant transmission like Gojo, huh?”

“Instant… that’s an anime!? I have a dragon, that’s much fucking cooler than Gojo’s shit, hmm?” You just smile against his neck, knowing then, this is him. This is Suguru Geto, the man you lived to see glimpses of. As he’s summoning these giant curses, his rainbow dragon, sitting you right on there and smiling, eyes crinkling and making you melt.

You gasp as you all take off - it’s as if you are some Princess, with a psycho cult leader who loves you, as he pulls you against him, head against his chest while he tenderly brushes your hair back. The exhaustion starts hitting, the fact that you almost lost him, lost everything that you suddenly realize is so important to you, while he inhales the scent of your hair and you fly up.

“Dragons are pretty cool.” You concede softly, earning his chuckle, lips tenderly brushing against your temple.

“I’m sorry I left you last night, I’m so sorry.” You look up sleepily, fuck you’re exhausted, trying to focus on him now.

“I forgive you, Suguru.”

“Should you?” His whisper is soft when you lay back against him again, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Probably not, but I do. I just… want you to never leave me. Promise, please.” You whisper against where his chest is bare, the wind gently rushing across your faces, while he holds you nestled in his arms.

“I promise, Princess. I will never leave you again.”

*****

One year later

You hold your sweet baby Noa against your chest as Suguru puts Mimiko and Nanako to bed, they’re giggling and kissing all over her as they always love to do, but Suguru gently chides them. “Girls, you know it’s well past bedtime.”

“We can help mom with Noa though!” Mimiko crosses her arms, and you smile at her, brushing her hair back.

“I appreciate all your help, but Noa is going to sleep too.” You peek at her precious face, she looks a lot like you but has Suguru’s silky black locks already, too much hair for a little baby to have. And her eyes have the darkest lashes, just like her father, who ruffles both of the girls’ hair now, chuckling.

“Boba tomorrow from your favorite place if you don’t argue.” His sing-song voice works.

“Fine dad.” They say simultaneously, and then the girls kiss you all before finally bouncing off to their rooms, leaving you and Suguru to head toward the nursery, his arm around your waist as your bare feet pad across the floor.

“You always bribe those girls, you know.” He chuckles once more, a sound that’s much more frequent these days, opening up the door for you now, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, illuminating the pretty room, all decorated in pretty pinks and purple by the girls before Noa came.

“I mean, are you arguing the efficiency of these tactics?” Suguru teases, having gone from war tactics to bribery for time alone with you was something quite new to him, but it fit well. Everything felt…

Perfect with you.

With the girls.

With his sweet baby girl, who is already fast asleep against your chest, her pretty face serene as you brush a thumb against a chubby cheek, smiling tenderly, the moon casting shadows across your beautiful face. It fills him with so much tenderness it’s hard to even explain, the way you fit so perfectly, knowing you were the missing piece, filling the void he let grow too long.

Your love for Noa was beautiful to see, of course Suguru adores his little girl, but you were so devoted and constant, also in your love to his girls. Since you met them you were kind, but once you all left and moved out of the country and spent more time, you were fiercely protective and loving of them like they were your own, and the girls had even started calling you mom.

Everything felt too good, and sometimes Suguru wonders if he deserves any of it, any of this happiness, love or joy that you brought him. You look up at him then, a sweet smile on your face, and he walks up to the pretty little white bassinet, brushing Noa’s downy hair back and smiling.

“She looks milk drunk again.” He teases, you shush him, a finger to the lips, a smile on your face.

“She might be, but you know…” your fingertips drift down his chest, over the silk of his robes, making his stomach clench hot with desire. He's been dying to have you, but you two were waiting until you healed up after a bit of a rough labor. The look you give him now makes him ache for you. “I’m feeling very good tonight. I think I pumped enough to have a glass of wine?”

“Fuck…” You cover your giggle and he sighs, hands clenching against your waist too tightly, before releasing you with an exhale. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He exhales and takes your hand, gently tugging you so that you both shut the door quietly of Noa’s room, pressing you against the wall now, arms on either side of your head.

“You’re so excited for wine, Suguru.” You whisper, and you know you fuck with him, he knows you’re aware of the affect you have on him, when you look at him like that under your lidded gaze. “You haven’t gone without drinking, why are you so excited?”

“I’ve gone without drinking alright…” His insinuation makes your cheeks heat up, a blush in the dark, quiet hallway. Although Suguru did have a maids, a cook and a nanny to help you, the home was far quieter than it was with a whole fucking cult living in it. It was much more intimate, private, even though it was hard for you both to get time together alone.

A lot of times, you were exhausted, but you’re wide awake now. All you can do is think about how badly you want him, the most you all have done is months was him toying your clit till you came, and you sucking him down your throat last week when you two had woken up.

He’d been ready to ‘drink you’ last night when the baby started crying, and he’d waited for you to come back only to find you crashed in the rocking chair with Noa. He’d almost had that damn taste on his tongue, but he knows how devoted you are, and fuck he was too, but if he didn’t get to fuck her soon, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, his hair falling softly against your skin as he leans down, eyeing your lips. “What wine do you want, Princess?” He asks, at your command, fuck Suguru is practically ready to kiss your feet if you just let him sink inside you again.

The entire pregnancy until right about the end he’d not left you alone, you were too beautiful, your tits leaking milk, your hips widening to have his baby, the roundness of your tummy, every single mark the baby left. He couldn’t stop devouring you the entirety of it, couldn’t control how sexy you were pregnant, and you’re so beautiful now.

“Some red wine, Sugu. Please.” The nickname always destroys him, he almost falters and just fucks you right in this hallway, instead trying to hold himself together and nodding, gesturing for you to follow.

You both walk slowly to the kitchens, where he opens up one of the wine fridges, and pulls out a bottle of your favorite, one you have had one sip on right after the baby as a little treat. Your cute little squeal of excitement makes him laugh in amusement, pouring you a glass as you watch the dark red liquid swirl.

“Don’t drink too much, you’re gonna be so wasted from like two sips.”

“Will not be! Gimme.” You snatch it up, fingers brushing against his, igniting sparks through the both of you, your eyes meeting his, dark violet in the dimly lit kitchens, he doesn’t let go until you pull back, taking a shaky breath. “Mmm!”

“Yummy?” He pours his own glass, eyeing you over it, the look filling your tummy with more heat than the wine pouring down your throat could, warming you all over.

“So yummy.” You step closer, sipping the sweet liquid, some of it slipping across your lips, and he groans.

“Fuck this.” He sets your glass down and you gasp.

“Excuse me, rude! I can’t have a glass after having your baby?”

“You can have a whole fucking bottle later.” You’re lifted right on the counter, making you so dizzy at how quickly he’s got you lifted, letting out a shaky breath when he slides up the silk of your yukata, watching goosebumps rise against your skin with every inch revealed. “I think I need a drink first.”

“Sugu- ah!” He’s bent down as you’re spread wide on the kitchen counter, kissing a hot messy trail up your thighs, cock throbbing under his robes, already leaking precum just inhaling the scent of your cunt. Your head falls back, revealing your pretty throat as you cry out, arching your hips. “F-fuck…”

“Gonna cum from my breath, huh? Pathetic.” You scowl now, kicking at him with your foot, but he just catches it, smirking up at you as he leans up, his lips a breath against yours, fingers brushing over your bare cunt, and groaning. “No panties, were you wanting this?”

“Of course I w-was, you think I wanted wine?” He moans, slamming his lips against yours, fingers running up and down your slit, your clit twitches when he focuses there, running in circles and making you close just from that. You cling to his silk robes, soft and thick under your fingers, while his tongue starts trailing across your neck, tickling and making you wetter.

“I can’t wait to fuck this perfect cunt again, make you remember that she’s fucking mine.” He’s back down between your thighs as your head rests against the cabinets, uncomfortable as the marble counter is cold under your ass, but all you can think is more.

“Show me then.” He moans softly, on his knees now, so fucking tall he’s counter height to your cunt, and your hands enwrap in his soft raven locks when he presses a hot kiss right against your cunt, watching as you jerk, breathing against you.

“Keep it quiet, slutty little princess, huh?” You nod weakly, fuck it’s been so long since he’s spoken to you like that, since he’s worshipped you like this, and you don’t think you can ever got this long again, not when his tongue laps at your honeyed arousal, making you scream out against your palm. “Fuck… taste your cunt, god she’s so wet f’me, huh?”

“Yes…” You weakly whisper, pulling your hand back just to slam it on your mouth again, the manor you live in is huge but you still don’t want to be that noisy, though it’s damn near impossible as his long tongue slides inside your gummy walls, curling up and making you almost cum from that. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mnh…” He’s lost then, lost in your taste, in the way your cunt drools down his face, hot and sweet as he drinks it all in, slurping you up while you shatter for him, falling apart with every flick and swirl of his tongue. Your legs start to tremble and he grabs them, spreading them wider, and you can feel your orgasm building up, his teeth nibbling on your clit as you try to keep quiet.

“G-going to cum!” You whisper, but it’s too late, your cunt clenched around his tongue, walls quivering while he curls it up, his nose now hitting your clit, and you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum. “Suguru!”

“That’s it,” he’s sliding his tongue out, sticking two fingers instead, you gasp at the thick, long digits in your cunt, untouched for months, the stretch making you hiss. Your hips are bucking against the counter while he looks up under dark lashes, licking your cunt off his lips. “Another, you can, can’t you princess?”

You nod weakly, and he’s curling those fingertips up against your spongy spot, making you blinded, back down there lapping at your clit and feeling you tighten all around him, that pressure a telltale sign that you’re gonna cum so much for him. “Ah!” You cry out again, biting your lower lip so hard while your head slams the cabinet and you gush down him, orgasm rocking you in waves. “Sugu, too much!”

“You can take more, won’t you be a perfect slut for me? You know you wanna cum again and again. Wanna drown me with all that cum, huh?” His words and their tone fuck you up almost as much as his breath on your clit, while he holds you there, his tongue flicking until your legs finally stop shaking and you collapse, breathing weakly, hands tugging at his hair, burning his scalp.

“Please, fuck me Sugu. God, I need it in me.” Your plea is not going to be denied, not when Suguru almost came from just licking you. He kisses you again, letting you taste your sweetness off his mouth, burying his hands in your hair before picking you up, and you cling to his neck, legs wrapped around him.

“You want it in you, huh?” You just nod weakly, letting him carry you to the room you two share, in moments he has the yukata untied.

“Want it, want it in me so bad- ngh!” Suguru has bared your skin to his gaze, your body swathed in moonlight, for a moment you cover up just a bit, your tummy isn’t the same, and he’s not seen you too much since, earning his glare, as he grips your wrists and eases your arms down.

“You’re as beautiful as the first moment I saw you, so beautiful you made me question if you had some fucking power over me.” He says softly then, easing your worry, a hand brushing over a glimmery mark from Noa, slipping over to your hip and gripping it firmly, watching you tremble in pleasure. “The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, got it?”

You nod weakly, swallowing emotions as you quickly untie his robes, revealing his toned, perfect body, your hands shake as they touch his chest, feeling his strong muscles under your fingers. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Shh.” He picks you up now, cock hard and heavy, already leaking precum when he picks you up, lifting your thigh as you sink into the bed, over the dark purple and gold silk covers, the black canopy enveloping the two of you in darkness. The incense lit earlier still linger in the air, mixing with the scent of Suguru, which makes you need him even more.

“Please, please…” You never beg, he wants to smirk down at you and gloat his victory, but he can't. All he can do is slide his tip right on your slit, groaning as he presses in, feeling your heat wrapping his cock.

“Fucking feel you, so tight, god. Slutty cunt is soaked, all for me?” You nod weakly, and then he thrusts his cock all the way inside to the fucking hilt, and you can’t bite back your scream, thankful the room is so far from the girls now, as he watches you and moans, sliding out and back in. “That’s it, she wants it so much, she’s so fucking greedy huh?”

“Shut up and f-fuck me- ah!” Suguru glares as he does just that, and you would smile at getting him all mad if you weren’t close to cumming from being so full, so stretched by his thick veiny cock.

“Talking shit? You’re still such a brat, tsk.” He’s raised your thighs then, bending you in a way you don’t think you can anymore, pausing when you whine out. “Here okay?” He asks softly, for a moment, then when you nod his sweetness is over, and Suguru Geto is fucking you hard, sure strokes that fuck your brain up until it can’t even function.

He knows it too, as he fucks into you, watching you shatter for him, balls slapping against your ass so heavy, so full of his seed ready to pump inside your eager hole, and you’re begging to be filled by him as he moves. Harder and harder, pressing your thighs further against you until he’s got you in a mating press, and you’re clinging to his biceps, nails digging in.

“That’s it, cum again, let me fucking feel you milk me, huh?” He’s nasty like this, filthy words flowing from his lips like poetry, and all you can do is nod - a girl who once said ‘fuck you’ is now saying-

“Fuck me, fuck me, please, yes!”

And Suguru delights in it, making his pretty wife a mess under him, feeling the hips that are wider from having his babies, seeing your breasts squish, a little milk leaking from them, and then he loses it. “Perfect cunt, she’s ready for all this cum, isn’t she?”

“Mnnnhh - ah! Suguru!” You’re unable to answer when he’s holding your thighs up and slamming his cock until you’re drooling, incoherent.

“Asked you - hah - a question, princess,” he has the audacity to say, in between heavy breaths, all you can do is cry out, as he holds back then, just when you’re about to cum, making you whine out. “Answer.”

“You’re such a - ah! - dick I swear, just lemme cum!” You’re digging your nails in his back so hard you leave marks, and he hisses, but you just turn him on more, making him fuck into you brutally now, pinning you under him so you can’t even squirm.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

“Now.”

“Fuck- ngh! Yes, yes, lemme cum, fuck!” He slams his cock deep and rolls his hips now, letting you finally cum all around him, milking his cock with your greedy cunt, he leans down and kisses you, swallowing your every sweet cry.

“That’s it, she wants all that cum, huh?” You nod weakly, tears of pleasure sneaking from the corners of your eyes, and then he pumps you full, moaning and entwining his hands with yours as the cum pulses so deep, and the two of you struggle to catch your breath. “Fuck, princess, taking me so good, huh? Made for me…”

“Mmhmm…” You’re breathless and exhausted when Suguru pulls back, kissing down and across your chest. The two of you lay there for a while each recovering, laughing, and tickling each other’s skin with gentle touches, grinning.

It’s so perfect here with him in this moment. All of the pain feels like a lifetime ago, not forgotten, but long, long forgiven.

“I’m never going this long without your perfect cunt again.” He touches your clit, making you jerk, laughing as he sucks your cum and his off his finger, moaning and kissing you again.

“I don’t wanna go that long either.” You sigh, kissing up his cheek now. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off, slipping kisses across Suguru’s sweat slicked chest, he moans, his cock so sticky with cum pulsing again just at that, while his hand runs up and down your back.

“Should I fuck you again, so you can’t think?” He raises an arrogant dark brow, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “What?

“Well… I was thinking we should visit him.”

“VIsit who? Fuck…” You kiss at the base of his neck, making him tug you onto him, straddling his waist, cunt still coated and dripping his white milky liquid pouring down his dark happy trail, pooling in his flat belly button. He rubs your clit again, watching your eyes dilate, your hips shift. “God, look at the mess you’re making.”

“Mmhmm, but I mean visit Satoru.” Suguru’s scowl makes you giggle, he’s unreasonably jealous that you and Satoru stayed friends. It’s occasional calls, but he’s always mad as fuck afterward.

“Why are we bringing up Satoru when you’re dripping cum on me?” He slips you down, grabbing your hips now, thumbs pressing against the lines that Noa left, eyes feasting on your pretty body. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Am not even.”

“You are so perfect. C’mere.” He yanks you down now, your hair falling across his chest, as he cups your face with one hand, the other making you grind on him. You cry out at the contact, earning his smirk. “Shut you up.”

“N-no! I think it would be good f-for you- you’re distracting me!?”

“Sure am.” You pull up and scowl, so adorable he melts like he always does, sighing as he stares up at you in the dark night. “Fine, we can visit him.”

“Yay! It’ll be good for you, your friend seeing you again. I know it.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll talk about that after I put another baby inside you.” You gasp then, when he’s lifted you, dragging you right back down his length, filling you in one quick stroke, making you scream out, shaking as the burn hits, feeling so fucking good when he bottoms out in your cunt, loud, wet and messy. He bites that lower lip, lashes lowering, while you struggle to breathe.

“You use your cock to distract me, huh?” He answers with a smirk, slamming his cock up inside you then, you cling to his chest, while his hands drift you your hips, and your cunt is spasming. “No more babies yet.”

“Sure, Princess, whatever you say.” You both glare at each other, before they turn into faces of pleasure, before joking little teases morph into cries and moans, before he’s filled you up again, and again, until you’re collapsed against him, so weak and worn out.

You don’t believe him one bit when he’s waking you up and fucking into you, cumming inside you so much your tummy is full of him, not when he grips your chin with that feral look in his fucking eyes - no, Suguru Geto does want more babies, and you can’t say you mind. Not when having his baby was the best thing that happened, and not when you aren’t dying to give him more.

“I love you, Princess.” He murmurs, stroking you from behind, you gasp and arch your back, whining into his kisses.

“I love you, Suguru.” And you fall again, into the arms of a man that once was a monster, but now was simply…

Your Suguru.

Ahhh so if you read both ends, I hope you enjoyedd, if you only read this I also hope you enjoyed. I initially only planned the bittersweet end, but I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and commented and shared your thoughts on this story. See you in the othersss <3

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[venusheartsyou2]

can't reach you | bucky barnes

summary: rooming with bucky barnes comes with its downsides.

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: explicit. 18+ only, MDNI. afab!reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking, lowkey a little matt murdock x reader, strangers to friends to enemies to lovers (?), bucky barnes is the worst, zero communication, set pre-endgame, mentions of my goat sam wilson, fluff, barely angst, sub!bucky, dom!reader, oral (male receiving), piv sex, unsafe sex, no use of y/n.

wc: 9.8K

a/n: erm so i didn’t think this fic would be so long. got a little carried away… anyway i had a lot of fun writing this fic so i hope u enjooooyyyy!!!!

— MAY 25TH, 12AM

The city exhausted you.

It wasn’t always that way. It had been your dream to move into ‘The Big City™’ since you were a teenager. But god, you could not keep up. You were too timid for the big personalities of New York City. You stuck out like a sore thumb. There had been too many times you had apologized for simply existing around others on the subway. You were too slow and too nice. Also, one time a pigeon literally shit on your head. People tried to say it was good luck, or something, but that’s just a bunch of horse shit. Whatever, you were trying your best to get over that. Guess you haven’t been too successful.

You were trying to scrape by. You had just recently graduated from college with a bachelors in Accounting. Too bad you were nowhere near getting a job in the field, as you were currently a server at a semi-bougie restaurant down a few blocks from your apartment. Speaking of apartments, you had just gotten a text from your roommate, Bucky. He was warning you that he was going to be home late again. Not that this was different from any other night. Whatever, you guess. More time and space for you.

A loud groan exited your mouth as you finally entered your apartment. You lean against the door, hoping it won’t crumble at your weight. Not that it would, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it did. The walk from your work to your apartment had a grueling uphill that nearly killed you every time you had to walk on it. Which was quite often. You’d think you’d get used to it by now, right?

You dropped your long shoulder bag. The handle digs into your shoulder every time you use it, but it’s cute and convenient enough to keep using. You didn’t have the funds to splurge on a nicer bag. Rent ate your money like a gluttonous pig.

Turning on the TV and mindlessly tidying up was a part of your basic routine. Come home, wind down, go to bed, wake up, go to work, then repeat. Well, maybe there was some masturbation with your trusty vibrator thrown into the mix every so often. That’s no one's business though.

Hours pass, and your roommate returns back home. It might be around 2AM, but you haven’t checked in a while. You’re too busy attempting to use a spreadsheet to plan your finances for the month to hear Bucky come in. You’re attempting to be organized, but honestly, you won’t be too surprised if this spreadsheet becomes some sort of lost relic that gets abandoned in the deep trenches of your computer drive.

“You’re up late.” You hear a low voice emerge from the darkness.

“Jesus! Oh— Bucky,” You let out a deep sigh of relief, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Bucky breaking you out of your trance makes you realize just how close you’ve been staring into the bright white light of your computer screen. You blink away the dryness in your eyes. That shit hurts.

“Told you I was coming back late.” Bucky shrugged as you took off his shoes and started walking closer to you.

“Well, yeah. I know that.” You say while giving an annoyed look at Bucky. Bucky simply raises his eyebrows and gives a slight grin.

“Were you out frolicking with your boyfriend Steve? Or.. oh! Or was it Sam?” You joke. Bucky rolls his eyes, simply saying, “Yeah, sure.”

You didn’t know much about Bucky before living together. The two of you had only crossed paths after you had seen a weird Craigslist ad for a wanted roommate. The price of the room had seemed like a scam, at least compared to other prices for shared apartments in New York. The guy was hot enough for you to give him a chance, but you were definitely suspicious. There were a lot of deliberate conversations — just to make sure this guy wouldn’t kill you in your sleep — before you had signed the lease. He seemed decent and quiet enough for you to be on board.

You didn’t quite understand his job. He was an Avenger, kinda? To be frank, you didn’t care much for the Avengers. Yeah, yeah, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ and all that, but after they had wrecked your best friend, Isabella’s, car in a battle against the gajillion-th attack against New York that month, you had grown a brewing distaste for them. Tony Stark wrote up a small check for your friend though, so maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was fine that you were roomies with a somewhat Avenger. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t touch your shit, you’ll be fine.

Bucky calls your name, to which you turn over to face him rather slowly. Maybe the sleep deprivation is catching up to you. “Hm?”

“My ‘boyfriend’ Sam wanted to know more about you.” Bucky says, using air-quotes over the word boyfriend. Funny. You let Bucky have a small laugh from you. You had heard about Sam here and there, but you were still a little wary about a guy you never met asking about you. That’s usually never good news.

“Why does Sam want to know more about me?” You ask, cautious.

“I told him about you. He’s a good guy. Annoying, but good.” Bucky assures. You’d heard about Sam’s big personality. It would be refreshing to meet someone genuine, you think to yourself. The service industry has been stripping you dry of all the warmth you had left.

“I’ll be there too. Obviously.” Bucky shrugs, hoping it’ll convince you.

“No shit, Bucky,” You smile as you laugh at his attempt to bring some sort of comfort, “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll meet your damn boyfriend.”

Bucky gives a grin before saying, “If anything— Steve would be my boyfriend.”

“Alright, smartass.” You giggle as you close your laptop, notioning that you’re going to head to bed soon.

Bucky acknowledges your body language as steps back to his own space, ready to go back to his room as well.

As you walk back to your room, Bucky shouts, “Neither of them are my boyfriends, by the way!”

“The first step is denial!” You shout back.

— MAY 26TH, 10AM

The next morning went by as it normally does. You slept a little past your alarm, as per usual. You put your alarm an hour earlier than you need to be up, to account for the time you’re going to lay in your bed, before actually getting up. You only feel a small gnawing itch in your head to hurry up and leave for work, which differs from the usual loud pounding feel of anxiety. Improvement!

You walk down the hilly route to your work. It’s nice now, but you know the inevitable uphill walk back is waiting for you. Best not to dwell. You enter your work with 10 extra minutes to spare, and you pump yourself up for doing so well today. That lasts up until after you clock in with the POS system at the hostess stand, and you realize that your waist apron that’s required for your work uniform was missing from your bag. Shit. You must’ve forgotten to put it back into your bag after doing your laundry. You’ve already asked for so many different alternate waist aprons from management already, and you didn’t want to deal with their pesky attitudes today.

It wasn’t the end of the world. But you mean, it felt like it. You remembered that Bucky said that today would be his off-day, and you frantically called him. The service was bad around your area, but after a brief waiting period, the call finally went through.

“Oh, thank God, Bucky,” You sigh, “Could you, possibly.. do the biggest favor for me ever?” You ask, the hints of desperation in your tone begging to be let out.

“You know, calling every favor the ‘biggest favor ever’ really dulls the whole meaning of it.” Bucky’s voice breaks through from the other side of the line.

“Okay, whatever. Just help me. Please.” You add, hoping it’ll get your lazy-ass roommate up and on his feet.

“Aw. Okay. Because you asked so nicely.” He replies. You roll your eyes, like he can even see you do that.

“Can you grab my waist apron from my drawer and bring it to my work?”

“Jesus. So far.”

“Bucky—” You try your best not to curse him out, “Just fucking do it.”

“Alright, alright. Easy,” He says, “I’ll bring the damn apron.”

“Thank you. Lifesaver.” You say, rubbing your forehead with your hand. Hopefully that doesn’t fuck up the foundation and contour that had been hastily applied on your forehead.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky says, before he’s cut off by the end of the call.

Approximately 9 minutes later, Bucky pulls in front of the restaurant in his fancy little car. Show off. He turns on his hazard lights, then exits the car. He comes up to the restaurant and enters.

The hostess is already asking how many people are in his party, probably spewing words from their internal customer service script. Bucky politely cuts her off, telling them that he’s looking for you.

“Got something for a server here.” Bucky says as they show off the little stupid waist apron. The hostess asks for the name of the server, to which Bucky responds with yours. Before the hostess could call for you, you’re walking towards Bucky with a wide, semi-panicked grin. 

“Lifesaver.” You say, as you give Bucky a hug. Bucky feels the urge to pull back, but eventually gives in.

“Not as big a deal as you made it seem.” Bucky smirks as he hands you the waist apron.

“Everything’s always a big deal.” You brush off as slowly inch back closer to the server station.

“Whatever. Well, okay. Remember, we’re meeting Sam at 6PM, yeah?”

“Pick me up?” You try to score a car ride back home. Bucky laughs. “Sure.”

You fist pump discreetly, but Bucky’s able to catch it. 

“At least try to contain your excitement.” Bucky says, dryly.

“Okay, whatever— See you at 6PM!” You whisper out to Bucky, as you gently push him out of the restaurant, trying to not make the customers in the store notice the exchange between you two.

“See you at 6.” Bucky scoffs lightheartedly. He leaves in his car.

As you walk back to the server station to prepare utensils for incoming customers, your work friend, Zara, inches closer to you. “Who’s the guy?”

“My roommate.” You reply, simply.

“You two dating.. Or what?” Zara asks, looking giddy.

“God, no.” You laugh off her assumption.

“And you not gonna hit that?” Zara asks, looking for permission.

“He’s all yours.” You look at your friend, looking wide-eyed at the boldness of it all.

There’s some more exclamations of attraction from your co-worker. A flurry of ‘girrrllll…’s’ from you follows suit. You mean, if they wanted to, you’re not gonna cock-block. It’s just funny to think about, is all. You promise Zara that you’ll introduce the two of them and you even hand Zara Bucky’s number, as you know his ass isn’t on any social media platforms. Maybe Bucky can finally get some.

— MAY 26TH, 5PM

The smell of garlic on your clothes invaded your poor nostrils. Bucky pulled up at the front of the restaurant, to your relief. Not that Bucky would forget, as you were blowing up his phone around 4:30PM reminding him that he said he’d get you.

As you enter the car, Bucky grimaces at the smell of your work clothes. “You smell like garlic.”

“Shut up. I know, I know.” You say, your head resting against your hand, with your elbow resting on the closed window. Bucky just smirks as he heads back home.

Getting ready to meet Sam was a chaotic speed-run. A rushed shower, a rushed decision of what clothes to wear, and a rushed make-up job. At least you looked presentable. Whatever. Sam isn’t the Queen. Or maybe he is. Anyways, this’ll do.

Central Park smelled better than it did in your hometown. Well, at this time of year, those fishy-ass Bradford Pear trees are usually out and about in your hometown. You traded fishy-smelling trees for awful, warm NYC sewer odor. Sometimes you think you could go back. Until you go back to visit home. The trees smell pretty bad.

Sam was waiting on a simple blanket in the field. How cute, a picnic. You’re glad the three of you guys weren’t going out to eat somewhere. Not a lot of leisure money on you right now. Sam had a spread of assorted snacks for the two of you. How thoughtful of him.

Sam shouts out you and Bucky’s name when he sees the two of you walk closer. “My favorite roommate duo!”

You grin at Sam’s kind energy. “You must not know a lot of roommate duos, then.” You say, as you roll the handle of your bag off your shoulder and lay it on the ground. Bucky grins and rolls his eyes in response. The two of you sit and join Sam. You greet Sam, and he offers a hug, to which you accept after a hint of hesitation.

“Bucky mentions you a lot.” Sam says.

“Does he now?” You ask, your eyebrows raised at Bucky. Bucky looks at Sam, his eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused and a little angry.

“No, he doesn’t. I just wanted to fuck with him.” Sam admits, after no confrontation. It earns an honest laugh from you, and earns an annoyed glare from Bucky.

“A shame then. I’d like to think I’m a good roommate.” You shrug.

“You are.” Bucky assures, rubbing his forehead with his hands.

“He mentions you a little bit.“ Sam leans in and whispers to you, playing it off cool. Of course, Bucky could hear him. He decides to let Sam get away with his shit for today.

You and Sam hit it off immediately. His genuine personality was refreshing. The dynamic you find yourself with you, Sam, and Bucky makes you laugh. You and Sam jokingly throw digs at Bucky, to which he promptly shoots down each dig. Bucky doesn’t stop you guys from making each joke. He’s probably used to Sam’s bullshit anyway. At least that’s what you assume.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask, “I hear a lot about him.” You say, telling the truth.

“He’s busy.” Bucky replies, simply.

“He’s always busy. Doing whatever diplomatic bullshit he’s always doing,” Sam elaborates. “You know, being an actual Avenger— and shit.”

“Right, course.” You say, as if it was common knowledge.

“You don’t gotta worry about that guy. He’ll meet you eventually.” Sam guarantees.

You cock your head slightly to the side and purse your lips. “That’s intimidating,” You note, “That’s Captain America.”

“He’s a loser.” Sam laughs.

You sigh and shrug. “I’ll guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“What’s not to trust?” Sam shrugs as he looks at you. You and Bucky look at each other instinctively with a knowing gaze. The two of you giggle at the unexpected coordination.

“Whatever.” Sam rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink.

— MAY 26TH, 10PM

After having an unexpectedly lovely night with Sam and Bucky, you and Bucky open the door back into your home.

“What’d you think of him?” Bucky asks, as the two of you wind down.

“He’s great.” You respond, earnestly. That earns a discreet smile from Bucky, but you didn’t catch it, as you were already tired and walking back to your room.

“Leaving so soon?” Bucky asks, only a tinge of disappointment staining his tone.

“Aw, you want more of me?” You tease, your smirk growing bigger on one side of your face.

Bucky scrunches his nose, instinctively. “Nevermind, just go to bed.” He grimaces.

“Wait—” You start, but Bucky walks towards you and forcefully pushes you into your room.

“Nope, lost your chance.” Bucky says, unconcerned. A little ‘aw, man’ leaves your mouth, to which Bucky grins.

“Whatever, didn’t even wanna talk to you anyway.” You lie and roll your eyes. Bucky, still grinning, places his hand on your mouth to shut you up. “Go to your damn bed.”

“Okay, whatever.” You say, your voice muffled under Bucky’s big hand. As you push Bucky out of your room, you start lifting your shirt to change. Bucky closes his eyes and turns swiftly to give you privacy.

“Night!” You shout from inside your room.

“Goodnight!” Bucky groans from his.

— JUNE 17TH, 7PM

It had been a couple weeks since you had met Sam; you were glad you had done so, since now, every time Sam would make a surprise visit to your apartment, it was a bit less awkward. You still had yet to meet Steve, but you didn’t mind as much. He was busy being Captain America. You and Bucky became closer due to Sam’s presence. You and Bucky even had plans to have a ‘girl’s night’ tonight. Sam was devastated he couldn’t come.

A while ago, during the first few months after you had moved in, Bucky had mentioned how he couldn’t get drunk. He had a heightened metabolism due to a super-soldier serum he had received while he was the Winter Soldier. You were curious, of course, but you didn’t dare to ask further about his past, as he seemed a little tense when he had explained it to you. You don’t want to pry.

Luckily, for Bucky, he had been gifted a mysterious, potent elixir from Thor. Asgardian alcohol, basically. If Bucky or Steve wanted to get drunk, they would drop a little bit of the elixir into their drinks. Works like a charm. It smells disgusting, so you wouldn’t dare to touch it. Also, you had been shown a video of the aftermath of Clint accidentally drinking one of Steve’s drinks at an Avenger’s party. Safe to say, you didn’t need to be told twice about staying away from that elixir. Not unless you plan on spending a night in the ER.

You pour your wine into a simple glass. Bucky is beside you, carefully adding a drop of Thor’s elixir into his homemade whiskey sour. Bucky is lucky that you used to be a bartender, and you have extra drink-making supplies around the house. The drink that Bucky made doesn’t look presentable at all, but whatever. There’s no one to impress around here.

The plan was: get drunk, watch a bad movie, complain about said bad movie, and go to bed hoping the hangover doesn't kill you in the morning. You had randomly picked a movie. It seemed like a romance-drama film, but you couldn’t necessarily tell from the oversaturated movie poster.

As the movie starts, you and Bucky get comfortable on your shared couch. There’s a big batch of popcorn you had begged Bucky to prep in front of you. You’re cozy underneath your fluffy blanket. You shoot out your hand, with the wine glass in it, gesturing to clink glasses with Bucky. He grins and rolls his eyes, but still clinks glasses with you.

“I hope the movie’s terrible.” You say, taking a drink from your glass.

-

After approximately an hour and a half, you were nearing the end of this god awful film. The alcohol was the only thing pulling you through.

“I mean, seriously,” you groan, “This movie has just been porn, Bucky—” You grimace.

Bucky doesn’t look too invested in the movie, as he’s too busy shoveling popcorn in his mouth. You frown and stare at the movie as you simultaneously grab popcorn to eat. 

You stare at the screen as the main character, who has been juggling between 2 guys and is pregnant by one of them (but is unsure of who is the father), goes on a long monologue about how she is choosing herself in the love triangle. Unbelievable. You laugh at its absurdity, and you turn to see Bucky rubbing his temples for comfort.

“Get a load of this fucking guy.” You mumble as you stuff more popcorn in your face. Bucky lets out an amused breath, looking at you.

The horrid movie ends, to you and Bucky’s relief. As the credits roll, you turn to Bucky, after taking another swift sip of your drink.

“So,” you start, “Debrief time.” You grin, excited to complain about something.

“Is there much to say? It was bad.” Bucky shrugs.

“That’s no fun, Bucky—” You roll your eyes, “What didn’t you like about it?”

“Main character was bad. Awful person.” Bucky says, simply. You give up asking for elaboration.

“You’re so boring. Anyway, I agree! I mean, Jesus. She was just a bad person the entire movie and then suddenly she has that stupid monologue and it’s all okay?” You start to ramble. Bucky listens intently, but only gives mundane responses. Mainly a few ‘mmhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ sprinkled throughout the conversation. You continue ranting about the movie.

“And seriously, I wouldn’t complain if Frank was my baby daddy. Better him than Jack.” You laugh, talking about the 2 main male love interests.

The words had already left your mouth before you realized that one of the main characters, Frank, looked eerily similar to Bucky. But.. that’s just a coincidence, right? Surely Bucky wouldn’t read too much into that. Of course, that’s not to say you didn’t find Bucky attractive, because you most certainly did. It would just create a weird dynamic between the two of you. Being roommates and all.

Luckily, Bucky didn't seem to catch onto your Freudian slip. He only scrunches his face and replies, “Frank’s an asshole.”

“I’m not known for attracting people that are good for me.” You reply, honestly.

“Shoot for better.”

“Moving on.” You chuckle off. Bucky simply smirks as he sips his drink.

As moments pass by, you feel the presence of the silence surrounding the two of you. You go up and turn on your semi-busted speaker that lays in the kitchen. 

“It’s so quiet in here.” You say as you pick a song to play. You play an upbeat song you haven’t been able to stop listening to recently. You might as well put Bucky on as you force him to dance.

“C’mon, Buck!” You say as you peel Bucky away from the couch. There’s some resistance from Bucky.

“No— I don’t dance.” Bucky confessed.

“You do now.” You respond, not taking no for an answer. Bucky lets out a gravelly groan. You swore that shit came from his chest. Your hands linger on Bucky’s hands as you force him to dance. Nothing crazy. Bucky’s hands feel rough and calloused. You’re sure your hands are sweaty and gross, but luckily, your buzz from the alcohol stops your mind from overthinking.

Dancing with Bucky feels good. It’s a kind break from the rest of your life. You count your blessings having a roommate that you actually enjoy being around. Even if he’s boring sometimes. Unfortunately, the next song is some sentimental, slow love song.

“Ah, let’s just skip this.” You walk towards your phone.

“Oh, now you’re the one who doesn’t dance?” Bucky teased, “C’mon, it won’t kill us.” Bucky reasons, as he stops you from leaving by holding onto your wrist. He pulls you in, and the two of you start slowly swaying together.

“You want to dance to this song?” You comment, noting that it’s out of character for him.

“Just call it practice.” Bucky shrugs, his eyes fluttering slowly. Bucky’s feet movement is a little scattered. He stumbles from time to time. Must be the Asgardian alcohol. The scent of the alcohol lingers on Bucky’s lips.

The two of you are quiet while dancing. Only the sounds of the soft piano and grainy audio from your bad speaker fill the air. The quiet between you two is a break from the constant teasing and sarcasm. It feels weird, but not bad. You assume it’s just because you’re not used to being like this with Bucky.

As you start to zone out, letting your body start to move mindlessly, you feel Bucky’s rough hand push a thick lock of hair behind your ear.

“Couldn’t see your face.” Bucky says. Jesus, you nearly choke on air from hearing that. Did he mean to sound so sweet?

“Aw, you like my face?” You laugh off, trying to assert some control and lightheartedness in this situation.

“Yeah.” Bucky responds naturally. Your attempt to assert control has flown out the window. Unfair.

Bucky notices your flustered behavior, to which he only stifles a grin. He’s trying to not be an asshole about it, but the way you react from his words only boosts his ego. Bucky looks into your eyes, and it feels like his blue eyes are burning holes in your retinas.

You swear this song has been playing forever. Maybe that’s because Bucky hasn’t ripped his gaze away from you. As the song closes, ending on light piano and strings, Bucky plants a kiss on your cheekbone. Your head rushes with heat, but you try to keep composure. No way you’re gonna let a man catch you like this. As Bucky holds you lightly, he turns your head up to him. Bucky places a light kiss on your lips. Your head rushes with too many thoughts, and you feel yourself push Bucky away.

“It’s getting late, don’t you think?” You dust yourself off, laughing awkwardly. Maybe laughing too much. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, and his lips look like they’re about to say something. Bucky closes his lips and frowns.

“Yeah. Guess so.” He responds, a sour frown still present on his face.

You run to grab your speaker and phone, rushing to your bedroom.

“Goodnight!” You flash an anxious grin to Bucky.

“Night.” Bucky muttered.

Of all the people you could find yourself flustered over, of course it had to be your goddamn roommate. There’s no way you could let yourself fall down this route. Hooking up with a roommate? That sounded like a quick way to find yourself apartment hunting in a few months. No thanks. What you and Bucky had was good, and there was no way you would let yourself — or Bucky —  ruin that.

— JUNE 21ST, 8PM

You and Bucky hadn’t talked about what had happened 4 days ago. There wasn’t really a good chance to, as you and Bucky had worked so often. There was never an open time to have a serious conversation. Not that you were prepared for a serious conversation, anyway. You’ve still been talking to Bucky, but only during brief exchanges when the two of you pass by each other in your home.

It was inconvenient, for sure. You two don’t realize how dependent the both of you guys are on each other until you’re both gone. Some simple groceries were running low, as Bucky couldn’t bring himself to ask you for  more. You were running on fumes, as you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Bucky to grab coffee for the both of you every morning. It used to be easy, Bucky had your coffee order memorized. It never changed. Now, Bucky’s been going to work without saying bye, and without getting you your coffee.

It was awful compared to how it used to be. You reassure yourself that this was normal. This is just how some roommates live. It’s better to be like this than to feed into your delusions, and inevitably fuck up something good. You want to keep living with Bucky. He’s a good roommate and a good person. You just can’t let him be a good partner either. It’s not worth the fallout.

Bucky sends you a text, more-so of a warning. “Bringing someone over tonight. Just letting you know.”

Hm. Interesting. Maybe it’s a friend? Surely it can’t be a date—

Your train of thought is interrupted by the sounds of the door unlocking. You sit up from the couch in a hurry, to look presentable to whoever is entering. It’s Bucky.. and some blonde. Huh. He really does have the nerve.

Bucky sends you a quick grin as he shows the blonde the place. He’s quick to place his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards his bedroom. Absolutely shameless.

Bucky peels away from her for a second to talk to you. “I’m sorry, I know this is out of nowhere, but do you have somewhere to be for about.. 4 hours?” Bucky estimates. You shove down a scoff that’s begging to be released from your throat.

“Sure, Buck.” You respond, monotone as you grab your purse and your phone.

“You’re the best.” Bucky grins. You want to smack that shit-eating grin off his fucking face. You call Isabella, hoping to God she’ll pick up soon.

-

After 5 hours, and after you and Isabella get ice cream for some soothing for the soul, you head back to your apartment. Isabella begged to know everything about the situation with Bucky. You told her the bare minimum, as you swore it wasn’t anything. Isabella didn’t buy it, but she let you get away with it, for now.

The apartment is quiet when you enter. Isabella offered to let you stay at her place for the night, but you declined as you had work the next day, and you would be more comfortable getting ready in the comfort of your own home. Bucky’s dumbass isn’t going to stop you from living in your home.

You get ready and head to bed, hoping tomorrow will be more bearable.

— JUNE 22ND, 9AM

As you exit your bedroom, you rub your eyes as they try to acclimate to the bright sun shining through your apartment windows. You stop at the sight of the pretty blonde standing in nothing but Bucky’s red shirt, which is way too large for her. You’ve got to be kidding me.

The blonde grins at you and says your name. “Bucky told me all about you.”

Did he now? 

“Hope it’s nothing bad.” You respond, honestly.

“No, nothing like that. I was just worried since he had a girl roommate, you know?” She shrugs. You nod your head in understanding.

“I’m no threat.” You laugh as you head towards the bathroom.

“I sure hope not.” She responds.

God. A meteor from the sky hitting you at this exact moment would feel better than this.

— JULY 20TH, 9PM

The few days after were no better. The days turned into weeks. You swore Bucky was inviting every girl, and occasional guy, he could find from off the street. Your apartment felt like a warzone. You were constantly worried about accidentally walking in on something you didn’t want to see.

Isabella was down to have you over whenever you needed her to, and you loved her for it. However, Isabella had her own life, and you couldn’t make yourself an unofficial roommate that doesn’t pay a penny of rent. The days you had to spend in your apartment were rough. It was like Bucky knew you were home, and would intentionally be louder on purpose.

Loud moans and incoherent praises from the newest girl invited into apartment room 405 has plagued you for the past hour. The girl was loud. Exclamations of ‘oh, yes, Bucky!’ and numerous ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s—’ left Bucky’s bedroom. Worst of all, you could hear Bucky reveling in her praises. You could hear Bucky respond with praises like, ‘Yeah, you like it like that?’ and ‘So pretty.. all for me’. You can feel your stomach knot. Noise-cancelling headphones can only do so much. As you head to the kitchen to grab your leftovers, you make a pit stop to bang on Bucky’s door.

“Keep it down, Bucky!” You yell through the door.

— JULY 21ST, 7PM

You lay your bag down as you come back from another long day of work. Bucky had told you that he wasn’t coming back home tonight. You didn’t care, in fact, it was probably the best news you had heard for a while.

The latest girl he had brought in was your co-worker, Zara. You mentally hit yourself for giving her his number to begin with. Once the moaning started, you forced yourself out the house. You couldn’t stomach the thought of it. Giving her number seemed so easy at a different point of time, but now, it seemed like your worst mistake. You didn’t blame Zara at all. She made it clear to you that she liked Bucky, and now she was the lucky lady who had all of Bucky’s attention that night. It’s not her fault the thought of it makes you sick.

As you reheat some food you had brought from work, you revel in the privacy. And quiet. You used to pray for times like these.

An hour later, you find yourself in your bed, consuming your favorite TV show. The main male love interest does have some similar features to Bucky, which you hate to admit. A man with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes hates to see you coming. It’s even worse once the show starts playing a rather graphic sex scene. You turn off your computer, trying to blink away the image of Bucky.

You plant your hands on your face, groaning. Why did everything remind you of him? Everything reminded of his beautiful eyes, his beautiful hair, and the beautiful sounds he makes when he has someone over… What?

Jesus Christ. You’re really losing it now.

The damage had been done. The knot in your stomach could only be released one way. You grab the joke gift your friends had gifted you a few years ago from your bedside table. Behold, the humble, 7-inch purple dildo named Woody. Which paired ever so nicely with your trusty vibrator named Buzz.

You ease up on Woody, who’s slick with lube. A soft moan exits your mouth as you bounce lightly on the dildo. You were letting yourself be louder than you normally would be, as you had the promise of an empty apartment. You were thinking of it as some sort of lewd present towards yourself.

The walls were thin, proven by how well you’ve been able to hear Bucky this past month. Surely the walls were thin enough for you to hear the door opening.

Your face falls flat on your cool bed, as you pump the dildo deep into you. The sounds are god awful.

Bucky comes home earlier than expected. He would’ve texted you, but he knew you were angry with him. His undying stubbornness didn’t let him accept the fact you were angry with him. It made him feel better just saying he was angry with you for pushing him away.

As he unplugged his headphones from his ears, he’s surprised to hear some commotion from your room. Surely you wouldn’t have anyone over, right?

Bucky presses his ear against your door, trying to gauge what was happening. He felt gross and pervish, but his curiosity dragged him to low depths. He heard soft moans from you. He itched as he listened to you fill yourself with your dildo. He can barely breathe, he can’t let himself be caught listening to you. What would you think?

You were greedy and lustful. As you inched closer to your high, you turned on Buzz and lightly hovered it over your clit. The double stimulation nearly draws you over the edge. You’re vocal, and needy.

Bucky can barely breathe hearing you. He doesn’t need to be as close to the door as he is, but he’s greedy as well. He wants to only hear you. He wants to be surrounded by your scent, sound, and body.

You feel your body twitch at the sensation, and your mind can only think about how much better this would be if Bucky was above you, bullying his dick into you. Woody can only get you so far. You wanted to be surrounded by Bucky’s scent, sound, and body.

Bucky nearly feels himself come undone from your sounds.

“F-Fuck, I need it—” Your voice sounds muffled from all the blankets in your face. “B-Bucky.”

Holy shit. Bucky groans at the sound of it. Which he hopes to hell you didn’t hear. He nearly explodes right then and there. He swears he could die happy right now.

“Harder, Bucky—” You moan out. Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He either needed to join, or he needed this to end. Bucky bangs on your door. 

“Keep it down in there!” Bucky shouts, as he chooses the latter.

You feel yourself stop breathing. Shit, there’s no way he heard you, right? You hope that you start ceasing to exist anytime soon. The intense wave of embarrassment is then filled with anger. Unwarranted, maybe. But enough is enough. Even if Bucky hadn’t heard your pleads for him, him asking for quiet was rich coming from him.

You slide your pants back on, a little disappointed you weren’t able to fully finish. You barge outside, to where Bucky peacefully sits in the living room.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that right?” You bark at Bucky.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bucky rolls his eyes, “I’m not the one screaming in my bedroom.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Bucky?” You groan, “As if you’re not fucking some person’s brains out every fucking night? You think I don’t hear that shit?”

Bucky frowns. “I’m just asking for you to keep it down. You ask me to do it all the time.”

You scoff, your anger filling you up, you swear you could light up in flames. 

“Un-fucking-believable.” You say as you slam your door shut. Bucky clears his throat, palming down the obvious tent in his pants.

— JULY 23RD, 8PM

Isabella had the brilliant idea of going out after another shift. You normally prefer to have a fun night-in with your friends, but the idea of getting impossibly drunk and forgetting all about your roommate from hell sounded more appealing as the days passed. 

Your friends and you had planned a small pre-game at Isabella’s, only deciding to drink lightly for now. Maybe at the club you could splurge on a few drinks here and there. The idea of being surrounded by people that weren't Bucky was refreshing. It was about time.

You had gotten a couple of texts from Sam, who had heard about the situation from Bucky. Even with Bucky’s bias, Sam was sympathetic towards you. He would make a joke that he was on your side in the divorce, but the term ‘divorce’ made the whole thing sound more serious. And you and Bucky were never serious. And never will be.

Isabella was obviously on your side. She had planted the idea of finding a sort of rebound from Bucky. That also made the two of you sound more serious than you actually were. However, the idea of getting laid tonight didn’t seem so bad.

-

You were drunk, which was exactly what you had wanted. The club was sweaty, hot, and full of hormones. A perfect breeding ground for horrible one-night stands.

An attractive man had approached you. He had cute red glasses which blocked out his eyes, and his hair was tinged with red. He said his name was Matt. It was interesting; he was blind, but he held himself up like he could see everything. You could smell the alcohol flow from his lips.

The music was loud and the bass boomed throughout the club. You could feel each vibration throughout your body. Whenever Matt had tried to talk to you, he had to basically scream in your ear for you to hear. Matt could always make out what you were trying to say, even if you didn’t shout. He looked severely overstimulated.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Matt asked, shouting in your ear.

“Please!” You shout back. 

You get Isabella’s attention, and gesture to Matt, who’s started to drag you out of the sweaty club. Isabella gives a knowing look, and tells you to call her if you need anything. You send a few kisses her way, and follow Matt outside.

“I can barely hear.” You laugh, as you and Matt finally exit the club.

“Tell me about it.” Matt strains. “The club isn’t really my scene.”

“Why’d you come then?” You ask Matt, while walking on the sidewalk. It’s starting to drizzle.

“My friend – co-worker, really – Karen wanted to have a fun night tonight. We just started a new business together. Attorneys.” Matt says as he hands you a dingy business card. It reads ‘Nelson & Murdock’ in small, black print and corresponding braille underneath it. What a cute touch.

“So, are you Nelson, or Murdock?”

“Murdock,” Matt grins, “Nelson’s my friend, Foggy.”

“I’ll make sure to call you if I have any legal trouble.” You promise.

“Please do. Our only clients have been paying us in chickens.”

“Chickens?”

“Long story.” 

You let out a small chuckle, pulling Matt in close. Your arms rest on his shoulders and you purse your lips, thinking. Matt’s hand glides towards your waist, as he waits for you to speak.

“You seem like you have something to say.” Matt reads you well.

“I’m trying to think if this is a good idea.” You admit.

“I’m sure there’s a few ways I could convince you.” Matt whispers as he presses an instantaneous kiss on your jawline.

“I can’t be won that easily.” You grin as you shake your head.

“A shame.” Matt clicks his tongue.

-

Turns out, with a few more sweet phrases and corny pick-up lines, you really could be won that easily. You and Matt stumble into his apartment, kissing as you walk in. The neon of the obnoxious glowing billboard from the opposite building fills the apartment with purple and blue light. Free mood lighting. 

Matt pushes you against the door as he closes it. He plants hot kisses on your jawline and neck. He knows where all of your pulse points are, which only drives you crazier. Matt breaks away with a deep breath, grabbing you and dragging you to his bedroom.

The next morning, you wake up naked in Matt’s bedroom. Your phone is nearly dead, but you’re still able to see the numerous texts and calls you have from Bucky. Christ. This isn’t helping your pounding headache. Matt still lays in bed next to you, and he wakes up from your movement.

“In a rush?” He asks, his voice tired and gravelly.

“Searching for a phone charger around here.” You laugh as you pick up Matt’s shirt from off the ground, throwing it on.

Matt chuckles as he takes your phone and grabs his charger to plug your phone in. He either really has his house memorized or he’s not blind. You’re not gonna be the one asking the seemingly blind guy if he’s actually not blind. You’d rather sit in your confusion.

“Last night was fun.” You say, as you find your pants on the floor.

“I’m not the type of guy to sleep with someone the first day I meet them.” Matt confesses.

“Am I the exception, then?”

“Seems so.” Matt shrugs, sitting up from his bed. You grin to yourself.

“I think we should do this again.” Matt proposes.

“So soon? That’s a little desperate, Matt.” You joke.

“What can I say? I go for what I want.” Matt responds. You raised your eyebrows with a grin.

“Two days from now. I’ll be free then.”

“Sounds great.”

— JULY 24TH, 2PM

You finally arrive back home after spending the morning with Matt. The door closes with a small click. Bucky is sitting in the kitchen, his gaze immediately snapping towards you. He gets up from his chair, walking straight towards you. It’s intimidating, you’ve never seen him so serious.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bucky barks, his voice stern. You roll your eyes, as you put your bag and jacket away on the coat hanger.

“Who’s fucking shirt is that?” Bucky says as he notes your new black shirt from Matt. He doesn’t mention how it smells like cologne, though he feels his cheeks burn with fire. It’s a shitty cologne, in Bucky’s not-so humble opinion.

“I’m not sure how this is any of your business, Bucky.” You respond, snarky.

“Don’t get a fucking attitude with me.” Bucky scoffs.

“Me? That’s rich.”

“I called and texted you multiple times.”

“My phone was fucking dead, and it was like— 5AM.” You groan, pushing past Bucky.

“Where were you?” Bucky asks again, his voice getting increasingly more desperate.

“I told you last night. I went out with friends.”

“And you didn’t come back home? And with a new shirt that’s been dunked in cologne?”

“I’m an adult, Bucky.”

Bucky frowns. He didn’t like the way he was begging you for answers, and how you wouldn’t give him anything.

“Whatever.” Bucky brushes past you, walking back to his room. Unbelievable.

— JULY 26TH, 6PM

You wait outside Matt’s apartment, patiently waiting for your date to start. You had gotten encouragement from your friends to see Matt again, especially since you had seemed so excited planning your date. Matt was a charming guy, and he definitely wasn’t bad in bed. Truthfully, you were looking for more ways to get out of your house other than work. You wanted to experience more life, and you definitely weren’t doing that being stuck in your apartment with a roommate who hated your guts.

Matt opened the door, grinning as he did. 

“You look good.” He compliments.

“How can you tell?” You ask.

“Intuition. I’m usually good at these things.” Matt shrugs, which earns a small laugh from you.

“Let’s go.” You say, still laughing. Matt gestures for you to hold onto his arm as the both of you exit his apartment complex.

-

The date was going well. The conversation was easy, which was a relief. You’ve learned more about Matt. He was a Hell’s Kitchen native, and his dad was a boxer. You told him about your small hometown, and your dreams of finally leaving your server job. You weren’t passionate about accounting, but you wanted to live more lavishly than you did now.

You had offered your place for Matt to spend the night. The date was going well, so why not? You send a text Bucky’s way, telling him that someone would be spending the night. He promptly leaves you on read. Asshole.

You and Matt quietly enter your apartment. You tell Matt to leave his shoes by the door. You scan the apartment, searching for any signs of Bucky being home. Thankfully, you can’t seem to see any sign of him.

“Do you need anything, Matty?” You say, dropping a nickname. Matt raises his eyebrows and smiles in response.

“Water would be good.” Matt responds.

As you head to the kitchen to grab Matt a glass of water, Bucky enters the living room from his bedroom. He looks shocked, nonetheless, to see a guy sitting so casually in his living room.

You mutter small curses to yourself, hoping Bucky doesn’t make a scene.

“Bucky.. This is Matt. Matt, this is Bucky, my roommate.” You take the liberty of making introductions. You walk over to the living room to hand Matt his water.

“Bucky. I’ve heard a bit about you.” Matt says as he politely greets Bucky. Bucky returns a tight-lipped grin to Matt.

“You did tell me someone was coming over.” Bucky says to you.

“I did.”

Bucky’s grip on his phone was tightening, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force of his grip.

“Well, hope you two lovebirds enjoy yourself.” Bucky says as he turns back into his bedroom. His bedroom door closes with a click.

“Don’t mind him.” You sigh, telling Matt as you close your eyes.

“Got it.” Matt laughs off the awkward interaction.

-

Later, you and Matt find yourselves in your bedroom. He places soft kisses on your collar bones as you unbutton his nice top. It would be a shame if it were to wrinkle. Matt’s body envelops your senses. Matt rubs your clit kindly and slowly, there’s added friction from your underwear. You can’t help but arch your back, leaning into his touch.

Matt says sweet praises as he preps you with his fingers. He slowly slides your underwear to the side as he thrusts himself into you.

Just as shit was getting good, you hear loud banging at your door. There’s no way. You whine as Matt removes himself from you.

“That can’t be Bucky, right?” Matt whispers, as he furrows his eyebrows.

Matt’s cut off from Bucky shouting your name from outside your door.

“Give me a second. Put your clothes on.” You warn as you get up from your bed. Walking out in only your top and underwear. Matt groans as he obliges.

As you open your door, Bucky pushes through to speak to Matt. “She has a long day tomorrow. I’m sorry, you gotta go.”

The genuine audacity. You scoff, and then you look at Matt, who looks mortified. This is your nightmare.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask Bucky in a low, short whisper. Bucky doesn’t respond, only focusing on cock-blocking your night with Matt.

“I’m gonna head out.” Matt says, seeming done with this weird dynamic between you and Bucky. You want to slap the shit out of Bucky, he’s driving away your chances with Matt, and the chance to get fucked tonight.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Matt.” You whisper as Matt grabs his things and heads out of your apartment. Matt shoots you a confused look and turns away quickly. There’s nothing he wants more than to get away from whatever you and Bucky have going on.

As the door closes, you turn to Bucky. You can’t even look at him. You’re shaking with anger. You’re embarrassed of the tears that well up in your eyes from the anger. “What. The actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“You were only going to regret it tomorrow. I’m helping you dodge a bullet.” Bucky replies nonchalantly, not admitting that he just couldn’t stand the sounds of another man making you moan. If it’s not him, it can’t be anyone.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve saying that shit. You’re making my choices for me now, Bucky?” You accuse, pointing your finger at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t like seeing you angry, but he was too stubborn to apologize. You want to shake some sense into Bucky, but your anger paralyzes you, only being able to stare at Bucky. His eyes gleamed in the dark, the only light coming from the dim light from your hallway.

“You two wouldn’t last.” Bucky shrugs. You turn your head towards Bucky with your eyes wide, looking like you could explode any second. He stands, overconfidently. His face is painted with an artificial smugness. In reality, his heartbeat was booming out of his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” You scoff. Bucky’s lips part as if he was going to say something, maybe apologize, but he closes them promptly. You couldn’t stand the way he just sat there, looking so pretty. You pushed Bucky into the wall, balling fistfuls of his shirt in your hands. It’s a bold move, attacking someone so much larger than yourself. Adrenaline runs through your veins.

“You’re gonna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, Bucky,” You threaten, your teeth baring, “What happened to you? We used to be so good, you used to be so good-” You’re cut off by the feeling of Bucky’s semi-hard dick pushing against your stomach. 

“Are you fucking hard right now?” You laugh. Bucky’s eyes are wide, as he pushes himself away from you.

“You were so fucking talkative, now look at you. Cat got your tongue?” You tease, finding this utterly hilarious. Bucky had the nerve to cock-block you twice, you might as well revel in this moment.

Bucky doesn’t respond, being too embarrassed to muster up some snarky reply.

“C’mon, Buck, use your words.” You coo, cocking your head slightly at Bucky.

“Don’t fucking do that.” Bucky mutters.

“Or what? You don’t like it?” You grin. You definitely like it.

Bucky adjusts his pants, making more room for his aching boner.

“Surely you want someone to help you with that, Bucky.” You say as you push Bucky on the couch. Bucky flops onto the couch, too breathless to respond.

“You’ve been so fucking annoying recently, Bucky. You know that, right?” You kneel in front of Bucky, unbuckling his pants masterfully.

“I— I’m sorry.” Bucky apologizes, shallowly.

“You don’t get to get away with that shit. You gotta face some consequences, no?” You purr.

Bucky’s face is flushed, embarrassed with how easily he was able to shut up. Bucky’s dick springs out of his boxers.

“Is this all I had to do to shut you up, James? Should’ve just told me. You would’ve gotten this earlier.” You tease. Bucky’s breath is stolen from him by the use of his first name. It feels too intimate, too personal. It feels right coming out your mouth, however.

“Please.. Please, make me cum.” Bucky pleads, pathetically.

“Gotta wait a little longer, James. You made me wait so long to cum.”

You place short and sweet kisses along Bucky’s dick, making him reel from the light gifts of pleasure. It’s not enough, and Bucky’s getting more antsy.

“You want more? Tell me how much you want more.” You grin, cruelly.

“I need it…”

“Need what? C’mon, use your words, baby.”

“Need your lips.” Bucky breathes out, his head laying on the couch.

“So pathetic.” You tease, as you finally lick the pre-cum that’s been leaking out of Bucky’s dick. Bucky groans at the sensation. You wrap your lips around Bucky’s tip, pumping the rest of his shaft with your hand. Bucky’s a mess under you. His back arches from the pleasure. You take most of Bucky in your mouth, moving your hands to lightly play with Bucky’s balls. Tears prick in Bucky’s eyes.

“Fuck— Please— so good, it feels so good.” Bucky mumbles incoherently. The sounds he makes drives you crazy, and your hand naturally finds itself at your core. You lightly rub your clit, your moans against Bucky’s dick drives him insane.

As you feel Bucky draw closer and closer to his high, you take that as a sign to pull back. The only thing connecting you and Bucky is the string of saliva from your mouth. Bucky whimpers as you leave.

“Why— Why did you do that? I was so close.” Bucky whines.

“You were going to cum without my permission, James. That’s no good.” You say as you place a soft kiss on Bucky’s mouth, letting him taste himself on your lips.

Bucky looks at you, his eyes pleading. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum, baby,” You promise, “You’re just gonna have to do one small thing for me, Buck.”

“What? Please, I’ll do anything. Baby, please.” Bucky begs.

“Apologize.” You grin, “Apologize for how much of an asshole you’ve been to me lately.”

Bucky swallows thickly. His stubbornness yells at him to keep dying on this hill. However, he can’t ignore the way he needs you. The way he needs to feel himself in you. Your hand starts slowly pumping his dick, urging him to apologize.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathes out.

“That’s not good enough, baby.” You coo, as you stop pumping his dick entirely. The absence of you drives him insane.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been a selfish asshole. I couldn’t bear the fact that I couldn’t have you. I’m an asshole, baby, I’m so sorry.” Bucky pleads. You grin, happy with his answer.

“Yeah, that’s good, Bucky. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” You say, slowly restarting your pace on Bucky’s dick.

Bucky nods fervently. “I’ll be good for you.”

You’ve heard what you had to hear. You’ve reveled in Bucky’s long overdue apology, now it’s time to give Bucky what he deserves. You unbutton your pants, sliding them off with ease. Your underwear is hastily thrown behind you, and you straddle Bucky’s hips. As you slide down on Bucky’s length, both of you moan out in pleasure. You bounce lightly on Bucky, the delicious friction nearly pulling you over the edge.

You place warm, affectionate kisses on Bucky’s lips. As you hold onto Bucky’s shoulders for support, your nails dig into his flesh as you feel yourself coming undone over Bucky. Bucky’s lips are pink and swollen from all your kisses, his eyes being clouded with lust and affection.

Bucky places soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. It drives you crazy. You lean your head back, allowing for more room. Bucky plants kisses all over your chest, letting out soft moans as you bounce on him. 

“So good for me.” You whisper.

“Were you this wet when you were touching yourself thinking about me?” Bucky asks, his breath light. So he did hear you. You chuckle in response.

“No, Bucky. You’re so much better.” You praise, being followed by loud moans. Bucky grins as he grabs your ass.

“Could’ve just told me you wanted me, Buck. This would’ve been so much easier.” You groan out.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky replies, trying his best to get his words out, as he’s too busy enjoying the feeling of your wet walls clenching around his dick.

You rest your arms on Bucky’s shoulders for support as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Bucky cups your jaw, and holds your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are needy and filled with care. Your lips are parted ever so slightly, allowing for grotesque noises to be freed from your mouth.

“You want me to come inside of you, baby?” Bucky asks. You nod vigorously. You’re too busy being drunk off Bucky’s presence to speak.

“Please— Please, gorgeous boy.” You beg.

“Fuck—,” Bucky groans at your sweet words, “Gonna cum for you.”

“So good.” You croon. You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as you bounce faster on Bucky’s dick. “Come for me, baby.”

Bucky’s cum fills you up. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself release on Bucky’s dick. Bucky groans from the feeling, and the both of you slow your pace as you come down from your collective high. As you pull yourself off of Bucky, the mixture of your arousal oozes out of your pussy. You place kisses alongside Bucky’s cheek, eventually lowering to his chest.

Bucky lies in his afterglow. He brushes your hair lightly as you lift yourself from him. You sit next to him, enjoying his presence for the first time in a while. You’re not sure yet if this is something you’ll grow to regret, but living in the moment sounds a lot better than always expecting the worst. 

–

ok now imagine they talk it out and its all sunshine and rainbows and they all apologize and its awesome and cool. #sorry #lowkeytoolazytowriteit

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

ANYTHINGGG WITH LEVI PLEASE, annnnd I'd love for reader to be taller thannn him and yet he still like manhandles her?

Like imagine they are both captains LMAOO and they are always at each others throats because they can't stand each other but everyone else knows they just wanna fuck LMAOO

THANKSSSSS IN ADVANCE CINNA, UR THE BEST

Fuck her 'til her legs both twitch

Tags: dom!Levi x fem!Reader, enemies to lovers, secretive mutual pining, nsfw, smut, bondage, dirty talk, I can’t express this enough… they’re going to FUCK, mdni

An: Nepobabyy! I’m always happy to see a fic request from you because you and I have very similar tastes in men 🤤

For the record, this was NOT suppose to be happening.

You were supposed to be in bed: asleep. You weren’t even suppose to be awake. These were the only few hours that Levi gets to spend in total peace and quiet.

Levi was sitting in the small dining area of the cottage that he, you, and Hange share as leaders of the Survey Corps. The early hours of the morning was the only time that it was peaceful in this house. That's because you and Hange are usually still asleep at this hour unless there's a bit outing planned. The dining area was dimly lit by a small gas lantern that was sat upon the kitchen table, and Levi was reading a book until you came inside.

His narrow eyes flickered up to your frame as you haphazardly stumbled towards the counter. Levi couldn't tell if you were even fully awake or not. He didn't care though — not one bit. His eyes returned to his book as he took note of your messy hair and pretty skin being softly illuminated by the glow of the lantern. He didn't care though. He just happened to notice these things about you. He's observant.

You were absolutely the last person he wanted to see at four in the morning.

You and Levi were like oil and water. You two just didn't mix very well even though you're both captains over the survey corps. Some would compare you two to the sun and the moon, but it was more like you and Levi were two sides of the same coin.

Levi was a man of principle, rules, and boundaries. He lived his life to a strict, tidy schedule, and he strived to make others also adhere to his standard of living.

You were more like chaos. While you weren't necessarily messy or disorganized, you were more spontaneous - living by the seat of your pants constantly.

Levi loathed your methods, and he made it abruptly clear each time he could. As it happens, today he may have went a bit too far with his criticisms.

You were giving a training pep talk to the scouts, talking about living in the moment and letting the adrenaline take it's natural course in your veins. It was a really good talk, until Levi spoke up from behind you.

"I wonder just how many cadets felt that same rush of adrenaline right before they died by a titan exploiting their weakness-" He went on about the necessity of control and utter focus, but you mentally checked out from the conversation.

It wasn't the worst thing he had ever said to you. You two had your fair share of back and forth arguments that usually ended in Hange yelling at you two to just fuck and get over it. But this stung worse than other snide comments. He had insinuated that your methods - your leadership had led people to their deaths.

When you silently walked away from the cadets, walking past Hange like they weren't even there, they stared at Levi with a 'say something' expression, but Levi wouldn't suppress his pride like that... not even if something deep within him reverberated throughout his body.

He hadn't seen you all day, but here you were: encroaching on his peace and quiet, and fuck, he detested the pouty look of sorrow on your face as you were searching for something on the counter.

Your hand finally found what it was searching for: the neck of a whine bottle. Alcohol was a commodity around this area, but Erwin had gifted it to you, Levi, and Hange one Christmas. He wrote a thoughtful note of his gratitude towards the three of you.

The bottle of wine had been practically untouched. Levi didn't drink at all — period. Hange didn't like wine, so that left you in charge of taking care of the bottle.

The cork parted from the bottle with a loud 'pop', and Levi cut his eyes back towards you. "A bit early to start drinking." He muttered lowly, taking the chance to speak to you when you were clearly upset about earlier.

"I wonder how many of your scouts died before they were old enough to drink." You turned towards him, eyeing him down with a look that he's never seen from you. This wasn't just petty anger — this was betrayal, hurt, and frustration.

Levi's finger hooked into the collar of his white button-up shirt, and he pulled it away from his neck as the tension in the room was already suffocating enough. "Say what you mean, or don't speak to me at all."

He knew he fucked up, but he wasn't going to allow you to fire back at him the same way. Unlike you, he didn't let feelings get in the way of his duties. He had it perfectly under control... if you ignored the way his heart was slamming against his ribcage. His stomach was screaming at him to just be a man and apologize, but his prideful brain hated that idea.

"You undermined me in front of the scouts, and frankly, what you said was in poor taste. I don't know what I ever did to you to make you hate my presence so much, but if you pull that shit again, I will not walk away silently again." You turned the wine bottle upwards, and the stout red liquid poured down your throat.

"Are you threatening me?" Levi asks, and he closes his book so he can face you squarely. His sharp facial features were only accentuated from the light cast from the lantern.

"Men. All you hear is the last part of what I said. You never focus on the real problem of it all." The bottle clanks against the counter harder than you intended, and Levi rises from his chair carefully. You scoff with a small sarcastic chuckle. You know that Levi's humanity's strongest soldier, but he's still smaller than you. You have a few inches of height and wingspan on him as the top of your head just barely clears his. Without his ODM gear and swords, he's just a short guy with an attitude problem.

"The problem is you act on pure impulse. You don't ever think your actions through. You're going to end up dead one day." His steps are cold and calculated as he approaches you, and he takes the cork from your hand, swiftly shoving it back into the bottle.

"You should be celebrating that considering how much you hate me." You whisper under your breath — not needing to speak any louder with his body so close to yours. Your faces are mere inches apart, and his hands are placed on the counter behind you, trapping you in.

"Dumbass." He chided lowly, and his eyes flickered to your lips briefly — just long enough for you to notice.

Suddenly, you feel your own heart pounding in your chest. Your stomach twists and constricts from nerves and the wine that was rapidly digesting. The cottage was so. damn. quiet. You could hear both yours and Levi's breaths — neither of you daring to move an inch.

"I don't want you dead." Levi finally adds bluntly. "I..." His words get caught in his throat, and he takes a deep breath to soothe his nerves. "You're right. I undermined you, and that wasn't okay."

Your expression softens as you gaze at him. He's trying. It isn't an apology, but he admitted he was wrong. "It wasn't..." You respond softly before leaning in a fraction of an inch.

Levi's eyes are glued to your lips as you speak, and he bites at the side of his cheek - wondering what you tasted like this early in the morning.

"It wasn't okay for you to threaten me either... Rather, it's not okay to assume so easily that you'd win." His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, and he leans in closer to your warmth.

You tongue instinctively delves out, wetting your lips as he's so damn close to you. The tension between you two was absolutely palpable. "You don't think I'd win?" You ask softly — only to provoke him a bit more.

"Don't be so stupid." His voice drops an octave lower, and his hands find the back of your thighs before effortlessly lifting you up and onto the counter.

You may be taller than Levi, but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in raw strength and speed.

He stands between your legs before leaning in even closer, causing for you to lean back — pressing your head against one of the cupboards. "I can throw you around without a second thought." He lowly boasts.

His hand reaches for the top of your head, and he guides your face downwards to his with a firm tug. "So, I'd advice you not to threaten me again, or else I'll show you why I am a captain."

Your nose is just barely brushing against his, and you feel like you're struggling to breath with his intense gaze on you. "Maybe I'd respect you more if you did."

"Insolent brat." He grits before tugging you into him closer. Your lips smash against his as his hand tightens around your hair, keeping you still as he pours every ounce of lust and longing into the kiss.

Your breath picks up in speed as you wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs wrap around his waist. Levi lets out a small muffled grunt, and he promptly lifts you off of the counter, carrying you as if you were nothing but a stuffed animal to him towards his room.

“Levi..” You whispered between messy panicked kisses.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, not bothering to part from them a for a second. He bumps his door shut with his hip before he walks to you to his bed, tossing you down onto the crisply folded sheets. His bed is made so meticulously. You wonder how long he spends on it each morning.

“This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” You muse as you sit up, using your hands to prop up your body against his mattress.

A small barely noticeable smirk quirks up on Levi’s lips, and he stalks towards his bed. His hands are unbuttoning each of his shirt buttons one by one, slowly trailing down his muscular body.

“Well, you’re not even trying to fight back.” He replies in an almost humorous tone as he shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders. The piece of fabric falls to the ground.

“Oh? You want me to fight back?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow, and Levi inches closed to the bed that you unceremoniously splayed on.

“You can try.” He comments before you reach up to grab him and pull him down to you.

The two of you toss and turn, putting each other in different holds and presses. It’s honestly difficult to tell if you two are trying to fight or fuck. It’s probably a malgamation of both.

Except a clear answer is given when Levi is behind you, pinning you face down to his mattress with his hand pressed against your back. Your ass is turned upwards, rubbing against the seat of his pants perfectly.

“Such a brat. Making me work this damn hard for this.” He grunts lowly as he uses his free hand to undo his belt. He makes sure to keep you pinned while he slips the leather around your wrists, effectively binding your hands behind your back with his belt.

Your hips flutter upwards with a small sigh — presenting yourself to him as if you were in heat. Levi chuckles lowly at the sight, appreciating how needy you are for him after a bit of rough housing. He always suspected that you had a thing for liking it rough after many days of seeing your blushing face and trembling thighs while training.

“Filthy girl.” He mutters while giving your ass a firm spank. His hands then find the waistband of your pajama pants, and he tugs them down with ease before admiring your pretty pussy — still clothed by the thin material of your panties. He can see a small wet spot from your arousal already building.

“Levi..” You whimper into his pillow, pushing your hips back further towards him. You were tired of being tough and strong. You wanted needed to just give in to your most basic, primal desires.

“Shhh. I know.” He murmurs tenderly as his fingers graze against your dampening panties. “Let me fix it. I always do.” He carefully strokes your clothed pussy once more before he focuses his fingers against the small button of nerves, rubbing tight circles into your core.

“Ahh~” You let out a breathy whine, completely enthralled by the fact that you can’t move at all. You’re stuck complying with his whims because Levi can just maneuver you into whatever position he wants you in. He doesn’t give a fuck how much taller or bigger you think you are than him.

Your panties are swiftly pulled down as Levi doesn’t think he can live with the throbbing pain of his cock twitching in the confines of his pants and boxers. His eyes marvel at your glistening cunt — so pretty and wet, just for him.

His mouth salivated at the thought of getting a taste, but he’s in a frenzy when he looked at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly six in the morning, which is when Hange normally rolls out of bed. He really didn’t need them ruining this for him.

His hand shoves his pants down, exposing his all too heavy cock, and he takes this moment to jerk himself a few times to the beautiful sight he has in front of him.

You’re bent over, looking as complacent as ever with his belt tying your hands behind your back. You’re rendered completely useless, and even if you weren’t, you’re so needy for his cock that you can barely even function.

“Gods, fuck.. please.. please.” You whine and beg beneath him, tugging against your makeshift restraints as if to entice him more.

His co-captain is such a needy mess. He needed to fuck some sense into you.

“Yeah.. you want it?” He asks as he presses his sweltering tip against your drooling entrance. A hefty groan falls from his lips as he feels how fucking warm you are. It’s been far too fucking long for him. There’s no way he’s lasting long, especially not inside your divine pussy.

“W-want it.. yes, Levi.. Please I want it.” You shamelessly beg, even while you know it’ll be a tight squeeze, and fuck, it’s a damn near impossible squeeze.

Your toasty walls grip him like a vice as he bullied his way so deeply inside of you, forcing his eyes to roll back into his head as he let out quiet grunts and growls. He bit onto his inner cheek hard to keep himself from finishing so prematurely.

He’s a gentleman at heart, wanting to pull as many orgasms from you as he can before he busts himself, but chivalry be damned; he wants to pump you so full that you’re unable to walk for the of the day.

“You’re so.. mmmph.. fucking tight… shit... Squeezing me like you don’t hate my guts.” He muses as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He grips the belt that’s binding your wrists, and he pulls you down onto his cock harder, literally skewering you onto him. 

“Oh fuck! Levi!” You cry out, unable to even filter your noises in the slightest. “D-don’t hate you.. ngh.. need you, want you.” You whine, and Levi subtly smiles from your sudden sweet comments, but he’s not going to let off that easily.

He growls lowly before he lets go of your wrists. His smaller frame mounts you from behind before he takes his hand, wrapping it into your hair, and shoves your face down farther into his pillow. “Shut the fuck up before you wake someone.” He warns in a husky whisper pressed right against your ear.

“‘m sorry… ‘m sorry! nnngh~ so good.. I can’t help it.” You apologized in a muffled whine, making Levi scoff at your pathetic attempts of being good for him.

When your noises are subdued a little bit, his hands flee your hair, and he grips your hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded into you relentlessly.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin echoes in his room, mixing with your muffled moans and Levi's grunts of pleasure. It’s filthy and wrong and so fucking hot that Levi thinks he might actually combust from the intensity of it all.

Your legs are completely trembling, and you’re just so fucking wet. Your poor messy cunt is dripping all over his sheets and blanket, and Levi’s vulgar mind is focused on how he’ll be able to smell you later. He’s already planning on getting himself off to the scent of your arousal.

“Fuck Levi… I c-can’t.. mm.. I’m going to cum-!” You warn in a breathless whine, unable to keep up with the way his hips are brutally snapping behind you.

“That’s all you can take, brat?” He mocks with a taunting laugh before he wraps your hair around his knuckles, tugging your face up from the pillow. “Cum for me.” He demands lowly, slamming himself into you even deeper — trying to push himself directly into your womb with the way his tip is kissing your cervix with each deep thrust.

Not even a second later, you drenched walls convulse around him, squeezing him somehow even tighter than before. It’s the only piece of heaven that a devil like Levi will ever see. Now’s as good of time as any.

His thrusts become sloppy, his rhythm faltering as he dances on the edge of an orgasm. You could feel him throbbing deep inside you, his cock pulsing with the need for release.

Levi grits his teeth together, and he forces your body against his rapidly, making you see stars as you’re trying to cope with your own orgasm. His bed is rattling and knocking against the wall, but he can’t bring himself to care.

A loud breathy groan rips through the air as he finally pumps you so fucking full of his cum. His cock just keeps twitching with ribbon after ribbon. It’s been so long since his last release. He’s sure that the sheer potency of his seed will likely get you pregnant, but he only finds that idea to be even more enticing.

Your legs are twitching as your body slumps against the bed. His cock eases out of you slowly, and he watches with lust filled eyes as his cum starts to seep out of your ruined hole. A small frown occupies his lips, and he scoops some of his own semen onto his fingers before he pushes them deep inside you — fucking his cum back into you.

“Mmmnph!” You whine into the pillows at your back arches back up.

“It’s your own damn fault for being wasteful. Keep whining like that, and I’ll pump more into you.” He threatens as his fingers piston in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

Your head turns to face him while still forcibly being bent over, and you give him a small mischievous grin before letting out another pornographic whine.

“You’re fucking asking for it now, brat.” He grunts as he swiftly flips you onto your back. Levi is a man of his word after all.

[sqgeism]

haii!! Can I ask the reaction of amphoreus men to the reader don’t feel like they deserve them and feeling guilty about it? 🙏

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 if i'm turning in your stomach | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; am i making you feel sick ? he's so.. happy with you, and you don't seem to understand. they're in the glory and light as a chrysos heir, what could have possibly be seen in you for them to ever want to share that light?

love mail — haiii anonnie ! thank you for requesting :D in this fic, i mention the very likely theory of phainon being kevin from hi3 ! it isn't a major plot point but it is mentioned so if ure confused dont worry so am i ヽ(´Ａ`)ﾉ love u guys mwah ! 2/5.

now.. anaxa isn't a fan of gossip, accepting words at face value is foolish. especially since he is a man from a field of alchemy, trying and testing until he sees results. in this case, the truth.

but when a mutual companion, that babbling blue haired student of his, tells him that you've been feeling rather.. sad recently, he was determined to find out why.

in your defense, you were never meant to have him figure out, but this concoction you were working on was really starting to get on your nerves. you figured anaxa was still at the academy, so you were free to yell at the vial of glowing liquid like you could peer pressure it into getting it to cooperate. "stupid, stupid." you grumbled, your fists curling into a ball on the table. "i hate this, why can't i just... be like anaxa? he must feel ashamed with me. i can't do something as simple as a healing potion, after all."

you know these words aren't true, but you can't completely erase the fact you still feel them. your boyfriend was praised for his expertise in his field, couldn't you at least have learned something?—

it was then that you felt someone press up against your back, head leaning over your shoulder as anaxa sighs. his hands wrap around your waist, looking at your face like you're the moon. "your ingredients are perfect, dove. down to the measurements, but i'm sure your error comes from your order of mixing. listen to me, start with.."

you listen to his guide, trying to perfectly replicate the sequence as he speaks, but it's distracting. he hasn't.. stopped looking away from you while you work. not to mention, his hands trace the curves of your waist, as if keeping your body to memory. his sultry voice in your ear is NOT helping either.

"i heard you, you know." he mumbles, shifting his head to press kisses to your shoulder blades, somewhat relishing the way you shiver.

"do you really think i'd ever focus my time on someone who self proclaims their inadequacy?" you don't answer. "your intelligence is unmatched, dove. i couldn't think of anyone with a brain like yours, while also having a heart kind enough to open a man like me."

his advances move up to your neck, and at this point, the potion is long forgotten. your hands are too shaky to focus anyway. "please.. never think you're not good enough for me. i couldn't handle you leaving me for false truths."

your husband is a literal king, warrior, and an unmovable force.. you wonder why he settled down with an ordinary mortal. you're not quite in the spotlight, and instead, a humble historian. which means you're well versed in mydei's tales, especially ones pertaining to his past. according to rumor; mydei is fated to fall for someone for all of eternity, they were originally a warrior sworn to him, but had died tragically for mydei in the middle of a battle, in fear that the enemy had possibly been able to reach his weakest spot. after a desperate plea from the gods, they had been kind enough to have his lovers soul reborn every time they've come face to face with death. you.. were apparently the first one he's met ever since 'your death'.

and while you're.. comforted by that idea, the fact that you're fated to find mydei in every life you'll live, you also feel.. unsure. had the chrysos heir fallen for you, or for someone you used to be. and you could never really live up to be who you were.

that person was a warrior, one mydei cherished like his other half, and the myths of the two of them are romantic. how he spent hundreds of years mourning them, how they haunted his narrative. could he ever truly love who you are now?

"sweetheart?"

mydei's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you come back to reality—surrounded by your ancient maps and history. you're in your study, staring down at one of the many books written on the chrysos heirs. "are you staring at that old thing again? i told you, i don't like the way they drew me in that book." his laugh makes you feel guilty, you aren't even sure why. something about his love feels undeserving.

when you don't reply, he realizes you're not quite on a page about him.. but about you. your past life.

mydei knows how you feel about it, you've talked about it under the moon with him in hopes that its light will keep your secret safe. but he knows reassurance won't fix your insecurity easily, he needs time, and he'll give you all of it. he's waited to find you for all these years, what kind of man would he be to make you think you're anything less than precious?

carefully turning your body to him, his hand trailing up your cheek as he feels his heart ache. "sweetheart, my darling.." before he can even finish, you lean your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat in silence. "mydei, do you promise.. that this heart is mine? you.. you aren't after someone who i once was, and rather who i am now?"

he knows he'll have time to give you proper reassurance, but he knows you just need a few words now. "i promise, with all i am, that i have fallen in love with you all over again. and that i am yours, body and soul."

with all the mystery that surrounds your boyfriends identity, you can't help but think about it as well. do you.. really know him? does he not trust you to know him? you aren't sure. maybe you aren't as special as you thought you had been, that phainon's sweet words of how much he loves you are.. false prayers.

but you have no reason to doubt him, he's never stayed out too late or hung around people that made you question his motives, he's a good man. and you're starting to think that you don't deserve him for doubting that.

the idea clouds your mind the whole day, and for aeon's sake.. you and him are having a date night at his place. he notices it quickly, how your mind just can't seem to focus. how you move away from his touches and hesitate with every kiss, was there something troubling you? was he troubling you? that's when he's had enough of the lack of communication, he turns off the tv, pulls the blankets down, and gives you a confused but also rather upset look. "honey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?

he holds his hand out to you, but you move away, the cold shoulder has never been so sweet. "phai.." you hesitate to finish your sentence, but phainon waits.

he's been known for his patience, he always has been. he was a composed man, a gentleman, he could surely hold himself togethe—

"am.. am i really anything special to you?"

he feels his heart sink to his stomach.

there's an sting that he's never quite felt before, overwhelming his body greatly. he's sure he can hear his heartbeat, or perhaps lack thereof, it's as if his world has stopped at those words.

you've begun to tear up now. "i don't know i just.. the people have been telling me things— and i'm realizing now that i don't.. i don't really know anything about you and.. i.. i'd want to get to know you better, but i understand if you don't want to, and don't trust me but—"

seeing you cry makes him remember something distant, a life he once lived in a different world. making someone he also loved so dearly cry because of what he's done.

phainon crumbles, moving closer to you to wipe your tears. you two are face to face now, his lips only a breath away as he's reminded why he loves you so much.

you're you, so human, so selfless. how could he be blind to your struggle, when he claims to watch you so carefully? "oh, angel. i'm so.. so sorry. there are things i cannot tell you yet, but i can tell you that i could never let my heart be taken by anyone else."

feather light kisses press against your eyelids, and you shudder at the contact. "sweet, sweet angel. please don't cry. i promise i'll make it up to you one day."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

kim namjoon fanfics: recent readings recommendations 💌

thank you thank you thank you authors <3 love you guys 💌💗🫶🏻

namjoon masterlist

🌟 The holiday pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation (genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff | ongoing)

summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request

my review

🌟 i need to touch you by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut with a bit of plot | husband!joon x reader | completed)

summary: After a fight you and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in a day. You also haven’t allowed him to touch you. He’s had enough now.

my review

🌟bts halloween party - king and queen by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut) | completed

summary: At the party, Namjoon makes you feel hot. He walks you home, thinking you are unwell. Will you take the chance and finally jump him?

🌟 we have time by @souryoong (genre: smut) | boyfriend!joon x reader | completed

summary: you and namjoon get in a quick fuck before Taehyung comes over.

🌟 heart got teeth by @100vern (genre: pwp; smut, angst, enemies to fwb to lovers (kinda) | completed

summary: the one where namjoon meets his match and isn’t quite sure how to handle you.

my review

🌟 The Boyfriend Experience by @shina913 | Genre: sex!work_AU; smut; PWP | Pairing: Escort!Namjoon x Fem!Reader | completed

summary: It felt very similar to an actual date, as if we’d come back to my place after a dating app meet-up – except the part about me slipping him cash in an envelope, of course. The intimacy happened naturally. He didn’t ask me for directions on how to turn me on, I just let him do his thing. 

🌟Empty Box by @moni-logues | Genre: angst, friends-to-almost-lovers? | completed

summary: No matter what you do, no matter what he does, you can't not love Namjoon. His girlfriend can't stop it, his baby, a thousand miles between you, your fiancé. Nothing makes it any less painful. Nothing makes it go away and nothing can give you the happily ever after you both want.

my review, my review, my review

🌟Take It Off by @jjungkookislife | pairing: namjoon x f. reader | prompt completed

prompt smut - 28 - "This is why I get off to you every night by myself."

prompt fluff - 30 - "Are those my clothes?"

🌟nice try, nerd by @jungshookz | librarian!namjoon | completed

my review

🌟out of reach by @liveyun | pairing. kim namjoon x gn ghost!reader | genre. paranormal, angst | completed

my review

🌟Falling for My Tutor by @hufflepuffwriter1995 | Tutor!Namjoon x Popular!Reader | completed

my review

🌟trivia love by @luxekook | pairing: kim namjoon x reader | genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut | completed

summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

my review

🌟let’s be friends by @bangtanloverboys | pairing - frat boy/stoner!namjoon x party girl!reader | completed

summary: you’re cute, he’s cute; you’re both a bit bored, why don’t you make out with your new friend?

my review

🌟Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic by @mytaegiheart | Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” | completed

summary: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

🌟Drabble by @champagneher | boyfriend!namjoon | completed

summary: YOUR BOYFRIEND KEEPS ASKING STRANGE EXISTENTIAL -OR WAY TOO DEEP FOR 1AM- QUESTIONS AND YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

🌟Naked by @muniimyg | (new) established relationship | non-idol au | fluff, crack, and smut | completed

summary: in which nam joon takes any and every opportunity to see you naked

🌟 Ramen? by @solarwonux | pairing: college!Namjoon x f!reader | genre: 18+, smut, fluff, humor | completed

summary: He read all the signs wrong, but in his defense, according to Jungkook asking someone up for ramen is basically code for sex. Right? 

[em1989ts]

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞

five hargreeves x reader smut

word count: 1.9k

warnings: enemies to lovers smut 18+, five and reader are 20, kinda switch! five? idek, choking, fingering, unprotected piv

summary: you and five return to elliot's after a failed attempt at reaching reginald at the mexican consulate, leading to a fight that leads to a little more...

author's note: i need to come up with some new stuff cause pretty much every single fic has the same dynamics but i just love it so much i can't stop lol, also i'm still working on a request but it made me think of this so i got a little distracted lol

not proofread

“It’s your fault he got away in the first place.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You and Five, your bothersome partner at the time traveling agency known as The Commision, were making your way up the stairs back up to Elliot’s place. 

After failing to save the world back in 2019, Five managed to muster up enough energy to time travel with you and his siblings to get you all out of danger. He ended up dropping you and his family off at different points in time between 1960 and 1963 in Dallas, Texas. 

You had only gotten here two days before he did, staying in Elliot’s giant home and sifting through his enormous collection of conspiracies. It was you who accidentally planted that alien idea in his head when he watched you use your power. Whoops. 

“You were the one who got all soft on seeing your daddy again that you gave up our hiding spot and made him run off,” you retorted. 

You made your way over to the door before Five blinked inside without you. Hearing his footsteps walk away, you sighed and pulled the key you had borrowed out of your pocket and opened the door. Five blinked the two of you a majority of the way here, as far as his energy could take you, leaving Diego and Lila behind to walk all the way here. 

“And we could’ve caught up with him if you would just hold your own,” he scoffed, already having poured himself a cup of coffee and heading into Elliot’s living room. 

“You think I can’t hold my own? How many goddamn times have I saved your ass while you were getting beat down, Five?”

You were getting even more pissed, raising your voice now as you walked over to him angrily. 

“Not to mention you only had to deal with one of those assholes while I had to fight two! In heels! And even after you tossed your guy out the window, you just blinked off! Some partner you are.” 

You pushed him a little as you emphasized your words. Of course, he was a good partner when it mattered, he did save your life after Vanya blew up the moon after all. But it sure seemed like he didn’t care about you at all in moments like this. 

He almost lost your balance when you put your hands on him, spilling his coffee over the side of the mug. Setting it down, he turned to you with an angry glare and shoved you back. 

“Well don’t go thinking you can fight me now, Y/N,” he said, almost daring, “Because trust me, you won’t win-” 

As he was finishing his sentence you took a fast swing to the side of his face, before he caught it and blinked you both into the small guest room that Elliot lended you both. 

He twisted your arm back and threw you forward onto the wooden floor. The room was dim except for a warm tiffany lamp on the bedside table. The air was clear and warm due to the open window, letting in the sounds of Dallas nightlife. 

You landed rough on your hands and knees. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked another fight considering you were still sore from earlier, but you weren’t going to back down now. 

After looking up at him for a moment, all smug yet still awaiting your next move, you quickly got up and tackled him, thinking it’d be easier on you to take this fight down to the ground. 

Five braced himself from your impact and blinked, not wanting to hit the hard floor, and you both landed onto the guest bed. The anger in your eyes never left as you landed a punch right on his cheek, your might distracting you from your new position. 

Before you could pull your arm back to hit him a second time, he wrapped his fingers around your forearm and used his other hand to grab you by the throat. 

A whimper left you as he tightened his grip, cutting off your airway. Bringing up your other hand, you tried to peel his fingers off your neck. Yet he didn’t let up, his fingers getting tighter and tighter, waiting for you to tap out. 

You inevitably did, your muscles way too tired to fight this stupid battle, as you tapped your hand on his wrist to get him to release you. 

When he let go, you brought your hand to your neck, massaging where his harsh grip once was as you caught your breath quickly. 

You hadn’t fully taken in your position, but Five sure had. 

He watched you as you laid on top of him, crading him, sitting just where he wanted you to. 

You looked dazed, all red in the face, hair a little messed up, chest raising as you panted heavily, his hormones had been driving him insane ever since the two of you traveled back and landed in your 20 year old bodies. 

It took you another moment to get the blood flowing through your brain again, but once it did, it acknowledged how you were sitting on top of him, pressing against a growing bulge in the front of his dress pants. 

Your breathing slowed more as you looked down to where your crotch met his before meeting his eyes. He stared at you with nothing more than lust darkening his irises and a flush on his cheeks. 

A smile crept on your face as you looked at him beneath you, eyeing his lips slightly before leaning forward, lowering yourself and meeting them with yours. 

His lips moved with yours perfectly as he pushed further into the kiss. He was about to move his hands to entangle them in your hair, but you had taken them in your hand and brought them up over his head.  

The kiss was definitely messy. Tongues clashing and lip biting, you were surprised neither of you drew a little blood. 

You felt him trying to assert dominance in your mouth as you fought right back, his hands remained held together until suddenly he blinked free. 

You landed on the bed, confused for a moment until you saw a blue flash in the corner of your eye. His hands landed on your shoulders, strongly flipping you onto your back, maneuvering himself to be in between your open legs, and immediately latching onto your neck, causing you to let out a gasp at the sensation. 

Instead of holding them above your head, he grasped both your hands in one of his and held them to your chest, reaching down under your pleated sixties skirt, feeling you through your underwear. 

“A little fight gets you this wet?” he teased softly as he nipped at your neck. 

You bit your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting any more noises out of you. The fact that you were this wet for him was already bruising your ego.

He peeked up to see the look on your face, admiring the struggle he was putting you through as he slowly rubbed your slit through your panties while sucking harsh marks into your neck. 

He moved the damp fabric to the side, coating his fingers in your slick, before stuffing them into you. The little gasp you let out satisfied him but not to the extent to which he would’ve liked, so he kept at it, moving his fingers through you, reaching that deep spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

Once he picked up the pace, he could tell it was getting harder for you to keep quiet, with the tiniest of whimpers leaving your lips. The palm of his hand met your clit as the pressure became too much. You turned your head into the soft pillow which your head laid upon to stifle your noises. 

He didn’t like this however, as he let go of your hands in front of your chest and grasped your chin instead, squeezing your cheeks slightly to keep your mouth open. 

At this point it was no use. The pressure built up inside you as he planted kisses on your neck, with little teases of encouragement, telling you you let go, which you did. 

Moans, pleading, and chants of curses spilled from your open mouth as the growing pleasure finally gave in, letting you come hard all over his fingers. 

He let you ride out your high slightly as he admired your face. The usual stern and angry look you usually addressed to him was long gone, now replaced with a dazy, flushed look with dilated pupils as wide as saucers. 

He removed his fingers slowly, before flipping up your skirt and pulling your underwear off entirely, before unzipping his pants and pausing before he lowered his own underwear. 

Leaning back down to kiss you softly, he made sure you were okay with continuing. Once he received your quick, eager nod, he finally released himself after being restrained against his tightening boxers for so long. 

As he leaned over you, you observed him closely. His dark hair now messy, his usually cold green eyes now softened, you’ve never seen Five look so not put together but you loved it. 

Him sliding inside you broke you out of your thoughts. He fell into the crook of your neck once again as he groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him, your warmth was too much. Your head dipped back, almost hitting the headboard as you didn’t even bother stopping yourself from letting out whimpers every time he hit that spot. He quickly rutted into you as you both didn’t want to waste any time before getting to that high that your hormonal bodies have been craving ever since your consciousnesses had been thrown into them in 2019. 

Although the two of you weren’t that rough, you could still hear the headboard knocking into the wall every time he thrusted into you, but your mind felt mushy with the pleasure and couldn’t come up with the words to say anything. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were panting each other's names and you felt the pressure built up again. You came loudly, squeezing him before he came too, pumping himself into you at a slowing pace before he stilled. 

The two of you were wrapped up in each other, panting into each other's faces, gasping as he pulled out slowly. 

You both quickly cleaned up and fixed your disheveled clothing, not making eye contact just yet, not knowing what this meant between you. 

Five ventured outside the room first, you were worried that maybe Diego or Lila overheard and were going to endlessly tease you both over the fact that the tension between you finally snapped. 

But instead, you heard your new acquaintance/host awkwardly question Five about alien procreation. 

~~~

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Close To You

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x lily zneimer x f!singer!webber!reader

♥ synopsis: as the daughter of mark webber you got to know oscar piastri pretty quick and soon enough the two of you were dating. no one had known that you both were also dating lily, leading everyone to believe the leaked pictures of her and Oscar was evidence he was cheating on you. they couldn’t have been more wrong

♥ smau - fc: gracie abrams - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and hate comments !!!

♥ a/n: my first poly fic! ty to bestie liz and cleo for hyping me up <3

liked by aussiegrit, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 656,305 more

y/n.webber channel that sad energy into a song queen

view comments

user8 hope you're doing well 💛

user3 ilyy

user6 pls shes so unserious 😭

user5 that's so real

user9 wait so did her and her boyfriend break up?

user2 I'm pretty sure. everyone's been speculating it and they haven't been seen together in a long time

user1 is she making a new album ???

user10 liv and tay in the likess 🫶

user7 I still can't believe she's mark's daughter omggg

user12 those family genetics 😍

user2 we love you <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo, and 583,694 more

y/n.webber cut my hair in the way that i've wanted

view comments

user9 change my number and bury my wallet !!!

user8 augusta <3

user12 LOVE

mclarenf1 we'll see you at the GP

y/n.webber <3

user10 shut up y/n is gonna be there?

user6 I thought she had a concert that day?

user1 @/user6 she has one the night before :)

user5 no bc how is she so pretty

user13 oscar in the likes 👀

user7 GORGEOUS

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by y/n.webber, user7, user12 and 502,669 more

f1gossip mark, y/n, and oscar are ready for the australian grand prix

view comments

y/n.webber @/aussiegrit I'm starting to think you like Oscar more than me :(

oscarpiastri he does ❤️

yourusername 🖕

user8 now kiss

user14 enemies to lovers

user4 my favorite australian trio

user1 why'd he have to shave his beard 😔

user9 THE CAT

user2 oscar and mark pookie off

user10 everyone pray for an oscar home race podium

user3 🕯️oscar home race win 🕯️

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, aussiegrit, and 703,562 more

y/n.webber date night <3

view comments

user7 I love how she doesn't even have to tell us she's dating oscar because we all just know

user9 THEM WATCHING TANGLED 😭🫶

user3 oscar getting her lilies :')

y/n.webber actually I got him lilies

oscarpiastri 🧡

*liked by original poster*

user4 this is the cutest shit I've ever seen

user1 mark in the likesss looks like oscar has the stamp of approval

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by y/n.webber, aussiegrit, and 750,683 more

oscarpiastri lando crashed our date

view comments

landonorris I did not "crash" your date I just happened to be there.

oscarpiastri as if you didn't follow us

y/n.webber @/landonorris you LITERALLY crashed into the back of my kart

mclarenf1 lando we talked about your internet stalking problem.

user8 PLEASE 💀

user6 why'd they have to call him out like that 😭

user2 the admins are my favorite part of the f1 cinematic universe

-A Few Months Later-

liked by aarondessner, taylorswift, and 984,059 more

y/n.webber The Secret Of Us is out now! The songs on this album are a collection of my life these past few months and I’m so excited to share them with you all. Special thank you to @/aarondessner and @/taylorswift I love you both 💛

view comments

user1 I hope she rips oscar to shreds

user7 y/n better than revenge era

user9 !!!

user3 girl you can do so much better than o***r

user12 I'm so ready to scream and cry to this

user2 I cannot believe he cheated on her

user16 out of all the guys on the grid OSCAR?!?!

user11 kitten I'll be honest I'm still not over good riddance 😔

user8 LMAO

user9 so true 😭

user15 hyped af for the taylor collab

user16 the fact that she's the daughter of mark, the man who supported him since day one and he STILL cheated on her is CRAZYY

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, and 985,750 more

y/n.webber throwback to my time at last year's era's tour. I'm so glad to be back 🩷

view comments

taylorswift were so glad to have you <3

*liked by original poster*

oliviarodrigo miss youuu

yourusername I miss you too babes

user9 "and you knew my last love let me down" OSCARRRRAHHH

user7 AND I BET HES AT HER PLACE RIGHT NOW

user10 I'm so excited to see you

user16 he fumbled so hard

user4 we love you <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, and 1,194,203 more

y/n.webber I understand that, without my agreement, @/f1gossip put out a post a week ago that said Oscar Piastri was cheating on me. This is wrong and I am in a happy relationship with both Oscar and Lily. He did not cheat on me. 

view comments

lilyzneimer I love you 🩷

y/n.webber I love you more

user7 😨

user1 I'm not even sure what to say

user12 I'm so sorry oscar we weren't familiar with your game 😭

user3 I-

user6 in true bi panic fashion

user4 FUCK 😭

user19 everyone say sorry Oscar

user2 sorry oscar

user5 we're sorry Oscar :(

user13 WE DIDN'T KNOW WE SWEAR

user10 sorry Oscar 😔

user21 💖💜💙

user23 the @ is such a boss bitch move

user8 saying sorry to Oscar online isn't enough I need to revoke my statements in a court of law

user7 same

liked by lilyzneimer, y/n.webber, alexandrasaintmleux and 884,472 more oscarpiastri flowers for my favs 💐

view comments

y/n.webber my loves 🩷

lilyzneimer 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

user7 my favorite throuple

user23 as if you weren't hating on oscar yesterday

user7 and I am deeply ashamed

user12 we said we're sorry :(

user6 yea oscar x lily x y/n are cute but wheres mark x fernando x taylor

user9 as in swift? 😭

user6 yes.

alexandrasaintmleux you three are so cute

y/n.webber <3

[ordinary-barbie]

they say, "keep your friends close," but you're closer.

summary: Saxon should be your enemy—Piper hates him, and he's got all the qualities you can't stand. Still, you're drawn to this man...and it turns out he wants you too.

pairing: Saxon Ratliff x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

tags: language, au where Piper goes to a different college and has a different major, enemies to lovers, reader has curves, slight age gap, unprotected p in v sex, cowgirl position, doggy style, fingering, cunnilingus (f receiving), multiple orgasms, usage of pet names (sweetheart, baby, babe), usage of good girl, Saxon being an asshole but also down bad for reader

note: fic title inspired by the song enemy by Charli XCX.

18+ only, minors DNI!

When Piper asked if one of her college friends could come home with her for her senior year spring break, Saxon hadn’t thought much of it at first. His little sister always had a stick up her ass, being an English major and all, and he assumed that the people she surrounded herself with at the University of Georgia would be equally insufferable. One Piper Ratliff was bad enough, so Saxon would steer clear of the Ratliff mansion for the week.

That all changed when Piper came home an hour earlier than expected.

Saxon was in the dining room, going over some business shit for his dad when the door swung open. “I’m home!” Piper announced.

Saxon swiveled his head towards the front door, curious as to who Piper could’ve possibly brought home. You shyly stepped into the house, accepting Piper’s help with your bags, and Saxon took the opportunity to get a better look at you.

Fuck, you were actually…hot. His eyes raked over your figure, examining your curves, your nice rack, and that ass…

Saxon forced himself to think about business expenditures so he wouldn’t pop a boner right then and there.

“Hey Piper, why don’t you introduce me to your hot friend?” Saxon asked, smirking.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

Saxon sauntered over to you, a cocksure grin on his face, and you froze in your tracks. Did Saxon look like the total frat boy douche that Piper described him as? Yes. Was he also so hot that you were internally melting in his presence? Well, duh.

“I’m Saxon,” he introduced himself, his voice dripping with arrogance.

You gave Saxon your name before quipping, “You must be the fuckboy brother I’ve heard so much about.”

To your surprise, Saxon laughed. "You're a feisty one, huh?"

You wrinkled your nose. "Try not to cream your pants, Ratliff," you deadpanned.

"Can't make any promises, sweetheart," Saxon replied, trying to look casual and not like your dry-humored insults were making his dick twitch. Girls never talked to him like that, like they absolutely hated his guts. You seemed like you would be a challenge—and Saxon loved a challenge.

Piper glared at Saxon. "If you could not be a total creep towards my friend, that would be awesome."

Saxon rolled his eyes. "Chill out, lil sis! I didn't know it was a crime to flirt."

Piper sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't you have work to do or something?"

Saxon chuckled. "Nah, this is way more fun," he said, his tone full of smugness.

"Whatever, let's just go upstairs," Piper said, itching to exit the conversation. You happily obliged, grabbing your bags and following Piper up the stairs without glancing at her older brother.

Saxon let his gaze follow you as you walked upstairs, focused on the curvature of your ass. The way he saw it, he was in the best possible situation. Your hot, mouthy self was going to be here for a week, and the more he hung around, the more opportunities there would be for you to be mean to him. Plus, he would annoy the shit out of Piper in the process. It was a win-fucking-win.

Saxon forced himself to get back to work, but his mind couldn't stop drifting to you. He pulled out his phone and did something he thought he'd never do—look up Piper's Instagram. Once he found it, he immediately went to her following list, grinning when your handle came up after he put your name in the search bar.

Your profile was set to private, which somehow made you even hotter. Saxon sent a follow request, then sat back and waited. Five minutes later, his phone pinged twice.

@/yourusername has accepted your follow request.

@/yourusername is following you!

The corners of Saxon's lips curled up into a smirk. Oh, this week was going to be fun.

-

You honestly didn't know what was wrong with you. It was bad enough that you allowed Saxon to follow you on Instagram, but then you just had to go and follow him back.

His bio was dry—just Saxon, 25, Duke alum—and his grid was exactly what you expected. There was Saxon, posing with a bunch of other douchey frat bro types in board shorts on a yacht. Saxon in a golf cart, flipping the camera off. Saxon in a bar, drinking beers in a Duke basketball jersey.

And yet...his account was weirdly appealing. You hated to admit it, but Saxon had quite the magnetic presence about him. You just couldn't look away. So you hit the "follow" button without a second thought. He was annoying as fuck when he opened his mouth, but you still thought he was hot, and life was too short to forgo the pleasures of following hot guys on social media.

"I'm so sorry about my brother," Piper apologized. "I swear, his sole purpose on this Earth is to antagonize people and drink protein shakes."

You smirked. "It's all good; I can handle him."

Piper snorted. "Oh, I believe you. But hopefully, he won't be bothering us too often."

-

The following day, you were awakened by a roaring buzzsaw's lovely sound. Nope—it was more like a blender. It was still obnoxiously loud, however.

You grunted, hopping out of bed to freshen up for the day and investigate. You ambled down the stairs, casually dressed in a vintage Georgia Bulldogs tee and shorts. As soon as you glanced into the kitchen, you spotted the perpetrator—Saxon.

"Morning, sunshine," he chirped, sounding way too chipper for...7 in the morning.

"Is it really necessary for you to make whatever concoction that is so early in the morning?" you snarked.

"Early bird gets the worm, babe," Saxon replied. "Gonna chug this protein shake down and hit the gym. You in?"

"I would rather eat dirt," you bluntly replied. Saxon chuckled, getting a glass out of one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Do you always have this much of an attitude, or am I special?" Saxon teased, finally shutting off the blender.

You rolled your eyes. "Saxon, you're already entitled and privileged enough. You don't need any special treatment from me."

Saxon still had that damn smirk on his face as he poured his shake into a glass. You wished you could wipe that look off his face. Guys like him were nothing new—rich douches who acted like they owned the world and expected everyone to fall at their feet.

(You ignored how he made your heart beat faster and caused a growing ache between your legs.)

"So what are you and my sister getting up to today? You gonna sit around and talk about how much you hate the patriarchy?" Saxon snickered before chugging his shake.

"You think you're hilarious, don't you?" you drily replied. "We're gonna go chill with Lochlan today, maybe go see a movie or something."

Saxon gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. "Without me? That hurts, ___."

You shrugged. "Figured you would've fucked off to somewhere else. Don't you have to get day drunk at the country club later?"

"Not today. I already have 'annoy Piper and her hot friend' penciled into my calendar, and that's an appointment I can't miss," Saxon retorted.

"Do you always antagonize your sister's friends like this, or am I special?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Saxon grinned smugly at you, an amused glint in his eye. "You're definitely special, sweetheart."

-

Saxon had become a constant fixture at the Ratliff home this week. If Tim and Victoria had been home to witness this, they'd have been shocked. Saxon was usually content doing his own thing, preferring to hang out with his friends or whatever fling he'd bedded that night. But suddenly, he was very interested in spending quality time with his siblings, and it was all because of you.

You were surprised at Saxon's constant presence, but you'd be lying if you said it was unwelcome. You found that you actually enjoyed bantering with Saxon; it felt good to have a guy give as well as he got. He was definitely insufferable, but you would sorta...kinda...maybe actually miss him when it was time to head back to Georgia. (But only as a sparring partner. Piper may have been the one who wanted to become a lawyer, but you were the one who loved a good back-and-forth.)

It was Tuesday now, and you and Saxon had the place to yourselves. Lochlan was at school, and Piper was visiting a friend in Charlotte. You were lazing on the couch, watching a random game show, when Saxon ambled over, flopping down next to you.

"We should go out on the boat today," Saxon said casually.

You turned away from the screen. "Yeah, I guess we could go when Piper comes back."

Saxon chuckled. "Nah. I was thinking just the two of us."

"Me, alone on a boat with you? Oh goody, I've always wanted to get thrown overboard," you quipped.

"C'mon, I don't bite—unless you're into that kind of stuff," Saxon responded, his eyes drifting to your chest. Of course you had to pick this time to walk around without a bra on, not that he was complaining at all.

"Fine, I guess it wouldn't be terrible to get out of the house for a few hours," you conceded.

Saxon looked like the cat who got the cream. After four days, he would finally have you all to himself. The tension between you two crackled in the air—he knew you had to be feeling it, too. Saxon wasn't used to working for a girl's attention, but he actually enjoyed playing the long game with you. He knew it would be worth the wait in the end.

-

You hated to admit it, but you thought the boat life was pretty fun.

It was a beautiful day for sailing, and the water looked crystal clear. Saxon was a not-terrible boat driver, which helped. You sipped on your peach vodka High Noon, feeling utterly relaxed.

"You're staring," you muttered to Saxon, noticing how he constantly snuck quick glances at you while driving.

"Just making sure you're having a good time. You're quieter than usual. I don't know if I like that," Saxon joked.

You smiled—an honest-to-God grin—and Saxon felt his heart stutter momentarily. Fuck, as if you couldn't get any more beautiful. As fun as it was to rile you up, he needed you to smile like that at him again.

"I'm having a good time, really," you assured him, taking another sip of your hard seltzer. "You're not being a giant ass for once. I think I like that."

Saxon laughed, light and airy, and you felt your chest grow warm. What was happening? Were you actually feeling...affection? For Saxon, of all people?

Oh, you were in trouble.

-

After an afternoon of sailing, drinking, and banter, you felt sleepy but content. You took a nap as Saxon drove home, leaving the older boy alone with his thoughts. He had initially planned to get you out on the boat and maybe charm you enough for you to let him give you some head or at least finger you, but Saxon found himself having fun just talking to you. You'd opened up more throughout the afternoon, telling him your interests and hopes and dreams and shit, and Saxon actually asked probing questions to get to know you better.

Fuck, this was becoming more than just a horny crush for him. He was actually catching feelings. What would he do once the week was over and you returned to school?

Piper was going to kill him, but Saxon didn't care. He needed you.

-

Piper had texted you saying she was going to spend the night at her friend's house, which made Saxon secretly grateful. The last thing he needed was his sister fucking nagging him when he finally decided to make a move on you.

You and Saxon ended up having dinner with Lochlan, ordering in some Thai food from a local place. Lochy was a sweet kid, very soft-spoken but nice. Saxon enjoyed ribbing his brother, but he actually listened to you when you told him to lay off Lochlan a little bit.

After Lochlan went to bed, you busied yourself in the kitchen, putting the takeout containers in the fridge and washing up silverware. To your surprise, Saxon helped you, even volunteering to dry and put away the forks and spoons. You didn't know what had gotten into him today, but you weren't complaining.

Once the kitchen was clean, you and Saxon parked yourselves on the couch. Saxon stretched out like a cat, putting his feet in your lap, but you couldn't bring yourself to push him off. You liked having him so close to you.

"What are you thinkin' about?" you questioned, seeing how Saxon was lost in thought, like he was trying to decide something.

"Honestly? I really want to kiss you right now," Saxon admitted.

Anticipation swirled in your gut. "So do it then," you snarked. "What are you waiting—"

Saxon sat up, pulling you into his lap and kissing you deeply. And shit, his lips felt amazingly on yours. He lightly bit at your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. His hands roamed over your body, caressing everything he could get his hands on: your tits, your ass, even your thighs, so soft to his touch.

"My room. Now," Saxon grunted, his erection straining against his pants. He led you by the hand up the stairs and into his bedroom, which thankfully wasn't close to Lochlan's—the last thing you needed was your crush's younger brother being able to hear y'all through the wall.

Saxon pinned you against the door, nipping at your neck. You whimpered before taking the chance to grind against his clothed erection. Saxon grunted, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Condom?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm on the pill," you replied, smirking at him.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Saxon moaned, picking you up and tossing you onto the bed.

The two of you quickly shed your clothes, eagerly getting tangled up in each other. Saxon slid two fingers inside your pussy and was absolutely gleeful to see your juices soaking his hand. "Holy shit, baby. You're soaked."

He continued to finger fuck you with one hand while using the other to play with your nipples. He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked, the sensation of his hot mouth on such a sensitive area driving you crazy.

Feelings of pleasure swirled in your mind, and before you could warn Saxon, you were cumming all over his fingers.

"What a good girl," Saxon marveled, licking your essence off his fingers. "You may be a sourpuss, but you taste so sweet."

He laid you on your back, muttering about how he had to taste you from the source. You weren't expecting him to be incredible at eating pussy—it was always a miracle when a guy even managed to find your clit. But Saxon ate you out like he was competing for a fuckin' Olympic medal. You tried to keep your moans as low as possible, but fuck, Saxon was too good with his tongue. He found your clit with ease, licking and sucking at it like he was dying of thirst.

Your legs were shaking. You couldn't believe that Saxon Ratliff was making you feel so good. "I'm gonna cum again," you muttered, clamping your thighs around Saxon's face as you orgasmed.

Saxon looked up at you, his face shiny with your cum, grinning devilishly.

"Sweetheart, this pussy is amazing," he purred. "I already know you're gonna feel incredible. Just get in my lap and ride my cock."

You climbed into Saxon's lap, slowly sliding yourself onto his cock. You groaned at the sensation, relishing the way his cock was stretching your walls.

"Goddamn, you're so tight and warm," Saxon muttered.

You bounced up and down on his dick, riding him like he was a bucking bronco. Saxon's eyes rolled back in his head, and you felt smug about making him feel this good.

"Ugh, yes baby, feel so good on my cock," Saxon praised, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Fuck! Can't wait to fill up your tight pussy with my load."

You felt yourself clench at Saxon's absolutely filthy mouth. "Yeah? You want my warm cum, sweetheart? Need me to stuff you full?"

You whimpered, your brain short-circuiting. Saxon chuckled darkly, pulling out quickly and making you pout at the loss of his dick.

"What's the matter, baby? Missing my cock already?" Saxon teased, patting your cheek condescendingly.

"Saxon. If you don't start fucking me again, I'm going to kill you," you grumbled, not in the mood to play games.

Saxon leered at you. "Get on your stomach. I wanna fuck you doggy." Your favorite position—you guessed some men were good listeners after all.

You turned over on your stomach, ass up in the air for him. Saxon smacked your butt, enjoying the way it jiggled before he pushed himself in, causing both of you to groan again. He grabbed your hips, fucking you roughly and deeply. You felt like you were going to make an indent in Saxon's mattress after this.

Saxon groaned, loving the pornographic moans he was forcing out of you. He truly didn't give a fuck about anyone else in the house or the neighborhood hearing you at this point. You felt absolutely incredible, and his balls were just aching to unload inside you. But first, he needed to make you cum one last time.

He took one hand off your hip and found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, small circles. "You can come for me one more time, right? Be my good girl," he encouraged you. You gasped, coming undone yet again for him.

"Baby, I'm close," Saxon warned, continuing to pound into you. "Gonna fill you up so nice and deep."

With a grunt, Saxon came, his cock twitching inside you. You whined at the feeling of his cum filling you up—so warm, sticky, and thick. You felt like a stuffed-up cannoli.

Saxon slowly pulled out, lazily watching the way his cum leaked out of you. He let out a sigh before collapsing next to you. "Fuck. That was even better than I expected," he said, taking a minute to catch his breath.

You shook yourself out of your daze, feeling fucked out and tired but in the best possible way. "That was good," you admitted. "Really good."

"Hope you know you're not getting rid of me now," Saxon teased, pulling you against his chest. "I think your pussy put a spell on me or some shit."

You agreed—you definitely wanted to do this again—but you worried about Piper's reaction. "What about Piper?" you asked nervously.

Saxon shrugged. "She's an adult. She can get over it."

You couldn't help but giggle. "Okay then. Let's go get cleaned up."

-

When Piper returned from Charlotte, she had to pinch herself. There you were, relaxing on the couch—in Saxon's lap. You were idly scrolling through your phone while Saxon rubbed circles on your upper thigh.

"What happened while I was gone?" Piper puzzled. She'd seen your Instagram stories of you hanging out with him on the family boat, but she didn't expect it to lead to...whatever this was.

"We unexpectedly bonded," you replied, smiling coyly.

Saxon smirked at Piper. "You're not going to have a stroke over this, are ya, sis?"

Piper shook her head. This was an absolutely bizarre situation to wrap her head around, but if Saxon was really the one who made you happy...

"Just be good to her, all right?" Piper threatened her brother.

Saxon stared at you fondly, stroking your cheek. "Obviously. I'd be an idiot to fumble a girl like this."

[lo1k-diamonds]

Moving On 💜

You can sleep with me.

PAIRING: Hoseok x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: All you wanted was to help your best friend move in with her fiancé, Jin — you just didn't know putting up with Hoseok came with the deal. And now there's only one bed.

WORD COUNT: 22.2k

GENRE: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, smut, oneshot (is renovating a house a genre? 🤣)

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: bickering, arguing, Jin is a whole mood and sometimes he doesn't help, unfinished business, misunderstandings, Hoseok is actually a sweetheart and vulnerable and goals, alcohol (no one does things drunk), sexual tension, dirty talking, brief masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda), oh brat reader 💯, soft Dom Hoseok, oral f rec, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, his hand around your throat once, pulling out, reader can't get enough of him 🤷‍♀️

A.N.: So... I had the idea for this fic one year ago, when I renovated my place and moved in. I'm trying to go through my WIP folder, what can I say? Better late than never. Also, that's where some of the knowledge comes from, but don't take it at face value 😅 I did most of the painting, not the rest 🤣 Anyway, enjoy 😉 Thank you, Raven @eerieedits, for the banner! This is another entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’.

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

As soon as you exited the bus, you heard a familiar voice shouting your name. Ahn Hyeonseo was easy to spot at the Gwangju bus terminal — she was the beautiful girl jumping around and waving for you to find her between the crowd of families, the elderly, and a few young people. You waved back and got your luggage from the bus luggage compartment before making your way to her.

She squealed in your ear as she hugged you, “I’m so happy you’re here!!!”

You hugged your best friend with a sigh, then pulled away. “There are way too many people here,” you complained, telling her in so many words that you wanted to leave.

She led the way from the terminal to the nearby, overcrowded parking lot. “Because of the festival. I’m happy we scheduled this well in advance, or I’m not sure how you’d get a ticket.” 

“It’s why we picked this weekend anyway.” You shrugged as you dragged your luggage at least half your size behind you.

She raised an eyebrow as she eyed it. “Yeah… And you need all that for a weekend?”

You scoffed. “This is just what I might need to help you,” you underlined, poking her with your elbow as she grinned. “My clothes are in my backpack,” you added, showing her your big backpack that she certainly noticed when she hugged you.

She smiled widely as she unlocked the car and helped you load your things inside. “I got everything you told me to, and you can always wear my clothes.”

You pushed the trunk door closed. “These are just for the details… I don’t know what I’ll encounter.”

Hyeonseo laughed playfully as she got into the driver's seat, and you got into the shotgun seat. You were teasing her because she had only sent you a few photos, hoping to convince you to visit and see for yourself. That made things more complicated because you didn’t just want to visit, you wanted to help her restore the house she had bought with her fiancé. But Hyeonseo preferred to keep up the mystery.

“Don't exaggerate, you've seen the whole place. I've sent you enough photos and videos.”

“Not of the details,” you complained, and she shrugged. 

“People were working, so everything was covered anyway. Now that the electricity, plumbing, floors, and all that is done, we can finally finish it.” She had a massive smile as she drove you to her new home. “I'm very excited about it.”

“How was the move-in?”

“We took two days off and already slept there tonight.” She glanced at you with sparkles in her eyes. “I love it. I’m so happy we did this, even if it literally makes me broke for the rest of my life.”

You grimaced ever so slightly, but stopped yourself from commenting negatively.

“It was a good investment,” you told her, observing the streets that would witness your best friend building her family. “It was a good find for where it is and everything.”

“Yeah, it’s just the amount of work it needed,” she sighed. She gave you the latest update about the roof, and you recognized the long sigh of someone who wanted to spare you the stressful details. “But it’s finally done. We’ve moved in, everything is in boxes everywhere, and we can now work on the details. That’s where you come in.”

She smiled sheepishly, and you felt lighter. “I thought you’d want to settle in asap and overlook the details.”

“Well, Jin is right — if we don’t do it now, we will never do it. And since we can get help, we decided to push through it,” she explained as you observed the residential neighbourhood you were now in. “Our kitchen isn’t finished, we only have a few pieces of furniture… It’s a work in progress. Actually, that’s one thing we need your help with,” she added, as though suddenly remembering. “We thought to replace the built-in closets, but it’s really expensive. So we wanted you to take a look and tell us if they can be recovered.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“There’s also— Ah, you’ll see,” she cut herself short when she entered her new driveway. 

A pickup was already parked there, and you automatically assumed someone was still working at the house. More importantly, you leaned forward to look out of the windshield at their new home. It had two floors, plus an attic, and it looked quite nice, with black tiles on the roof and large windows. Who knew your best friend would become a homeowner?

“Come, let’s get you inside,” she said, already getting your luggage from the trunk. “I have to call the furniture store again, it’s getting late.” 

Hyeonseo huffed and refused to let you carry everything by yourself. Instead, she went ahead and entered the place through the garage, welcoming you inside her home for the first time.

“Come in!!!” she almost squealed, putting your luggage to the side and forcing you to put your backpack down too.

You were already in awe, eying the whole place. It was spacious, with an open concept and large windows at the front, providing ample light to an almost empty living room, aside from the materials and machines left there and the air conditioning unit up in the corner. The wood floor was beautiful and matched the vibe of a fixer-upper. The kitchen also looked brand new, but you could see what Hyeonseo meant with it not being finished — there was no stove, for example.

“We’re supposed to get a bunch of things still today, I’m so excited!” She clapped her hands. “Chairs, a dining table, and a couch. Finally, it will start looking a bit more proper!”

“Tell me you have a bed,” you asked, suddenly worried.

Hyeonseo laughed. “First thing we assembled — our bed and the guest room’s bed.” You sighed, and she waved at you to follow. “Come, I’ll show you the rest!”

You wanted to stop and observe things a bit more carefully, but Hyeonseo dragged you along to the first floor after a glimpse at the bathroom. Instantly, you noticed the dark blue stains on the wood stair treads and halted. Glancing behind you, you noticed that the ground-floor wooden floor had no stains.

“What happened here?” you asked, reaching to touch a particularly dark stain to feel how thick it was.

“Some walls upstairs were blue and they didn’t protect the floors while painting,” Hyeonseo revealed, then heaved a deep breath. “The renovating team fixed the floors, but not the stairs. They proposed it, but it was expensive, and it would mean not being able to access the rooms for a while, which didn’t work for us. We needed to move in this week,” she reminded you as she climbed the rest of the stairs, and you nodded.

“Yeah, well, it’s not a lot, it just takes a lot of time… I might be able to do something about it.”

Hyeonseo sighed in relief, happy to count on you. Once on the first floor, she proudly showed you the second bathroom and the master bedroom. You nodded, noting that the only pieces of furniture you’d seen so far were that bed and a couple of chairs in the living room. The ladders didn’t count. Nor did the yet-to-be-assembled furniture, like the bookshelves, closets, and desk, still sitting in piles of wood planks and bolts in the living room.

“You painted the rooms already?” you asked, and she nodded.

“Just the bedrooms, so we could learn to do it and already sleep here. What do you think? That main wall was dark blue before.” She pointed at the main wall behind their bed, and you nodded, approving the very light orange tone they had chosen instead.

“It’s nice, it opens the room and makes it softer.” You walked around, noticing the corners and the skirting board. “You even protected the skirting board and taped the other wall for a perfect line. I’m impressed.”

“You told us to!”

You smirked. “Sure, but you did it properly.” Hyeonseo rolled her eyes, and you raised an eyebrow at the built-in closet. “Is that the one?”

You approached it carefully, instantly entranced by the beautiful flower engravings on the wooden sliding doors. However, once close, you scowled. “They got paint on the closets too?! How clumsy can they be?”

Hyeonseo sighed. “Yeah, they left it a mess.”

You slid the closet door open and started feeling the shelves and the back of the closet. You hummed as you did, glad that it didn’t look like there was much damage to be fixed.

“Well, the closet might look old, but the wood is sound. I think just some sanding and treatment with oil should be enough.”

“That’s wonderful news!” your best friend beamed. “Let me show you your room.”

You followed her to the room next door, which had a queen-sized bed and a similar built-in closet. You were about to make your way to it to check it out, but Hyeonseo guided you away gently by the shoulders. “You can check it later. Think about this,” she coaxed, turning you to look at the sun-lit room. “You can visit anytime,” she gushed, hugging you dearly. “We’re just a three-hour drive away!”

You smiled and held her back, eternally thankful for her.

“Now come and check the attic!” She beamed at you, grabbing your hand to drag you along. “It’s the only part they finished before we bought it,” she explained as she went up the narrow wooden stairs.

You placed your hand on the wooden railing and compared it with the other set leading to the ground floor. The Korean pine wood you were touching had been recently installed, and it still had a fresh, new smell. It was the same type of wood as the older set leading to the ground floor, but that one needed work. Starting by removing those horrible dark blue paint stains—

“Oh, hi!!” Hyeonseo beamed again, already out of your sight.

You pressed your lips and hurried to follow your best friend to the attic before she called you out for geeking about the wood of her stairs.

You instantly heard Jin’s voice replying to her and smiled, but your stomach dropped as the attic came into view.

“Hobi!” Hyeonseo all but shouted and jumped into his arms, and you almost missed the last step and fell face-first onto the beautiful varnished floor. 

Only Jin seemed to notice your almost tumble; he hid a smirk as you kept going, sniffling casually. By then, your brain couldn’t take in the spacious, raised-ceiling, well-lit room. You were just staring at the man hugging Hyeonseo, anticipating being able to see his face at any moment and confirm that it was, in fact—

Hyeonseo’s feet touched the floor when Hoseok put her down. “Ah! The pickup outside! I didn’t recognize it!”

Hoseok smiled casually as he let her step back into Jin’s orbit. “It’s my father’s. I grabbed a bunch of things from him just in case.”

“I told you the roof was fixed.” Jin shrugged, placing a hand on Hyeonseo’s shoulder, only to make her slide to the side so he could greet you.

“I have other things as well,” Hoseok said as his eyes landed on you, and you stopped breathing. 

For a split second, you didn’t know how to feel. He looked good five years later, with clearer skin and a sturdier build. Even if he still looked scrawny under his cargo pants and white tank top, he was taller and stronger. His eyes were just as scrutinizing as you remembered, even with soft locks of hair falling over them. Yet, they were all you could see until Jin got in your line of sight.

“There she is!”

You raised your eyes to meet Jin’s just in time to be swept off your feet and squeezed empty like a balloon while trying not to squeak like one.

“Don’t kill her, put her down,” Hyeonseo chuckled, tapping her fiancé’s shoulder. Jin put you down with a grin as she told him, “We need her alive.”

“That we do,” he agreed, then turned to Hoseok. “I’m guessing you remember each other.”

You almost gasped. Instead, your eyes jumped to Hoseok’s, remembering everything. Your gut churned as his features remained stoic. All he did was bow, and you bowed back.

“Hello.”

You mumbled a hello back before pointing behind you. “I’ll go check the other closet now.”

“Now?” Jin asked, confused. “You can do that later!” he suggested, but you were already going down the stairs.

“In case we need to buy something extra,” you retorted, projecting your voice so he could still hear you.

You heard feet behind you and knew Hyeonseo was following you down. You waited in the second bedroom, then closed the door behind her.

“What the hell?!” you whispered-shouted, widening your eyes at her.

“What?”

You instantly knew she was feigning her naivety. “You know we don’t get along!!”

She rolled her eyes. “That was in high school.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, biting your lip. Reeling your frustration in. “Why is he here anyway?”

“Besides being Jin’s best friend,” she underlined, “he also knows what he’s doing. His dad is a contractor, and Hoseok has helped him his whole life with renovating houses. He brought a lot of materials and machines so we could do this right and for free.”

You groaned. “Aren’t you lucky with your friends?”

She beamed at you with the wildest smile, but you were still uneasy.

“Why this weekend?” you insisted. “I know you say it’s just high school and that it was five years ago, but you know me better than that.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, sighing. “This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to have come last weekend, but plans changed at the last minute, so it happened like this.”

“And I don’t suppose he could come back later?” you asked, and she smiled sheepishly.

“Not really… His mom moved to Seoul, and his dad lives more than two hours away. He drove all the way on purpose to help us. Sorry,” she added before opening the bedroom door to shout back at Jin. “WHAT?”

You didn’t hear what he was asking, only that Hobi would stay there the weekend at the same time as you. Maybe he’d leave soon. Clearly, the place was almost done anyway. All that was left were details, and you could handle those.

You took a deep breath, using that thought to soothe yourself. It was temporary. And it was all water under the bridge anyway. It all happened a long time ago.

“Not yet! Come,” Hyeonseo called you to follow her. “I have to call the furniture retailer and then order something for dinner.”

You heaved a deep breath, throwing a woeful eye at the built-in closet before following her out. You didn’t want to be anywhere Hoseok was, nor did you want to pretend otherwise.

You could appreciate Jin and Hyeonseo’s effort, though. She called the furniture retailer, which confirmed delivery soon, then ordered fried chicken. Meanwhile, she bantered with Jin the whole time, who focused on trying to create cocktails without knowing where anything was.

“It’s written on the box!” Hyeonseo facepalmed, and Jin started whining just to push her buttons.

“Yeah, I know! But it’s not in the box that says bar!! Did you throw my shaker away?”

“No!!” she denied with a screech as she pushed boxes left and right, trying to find the right one. “How else would you make me drinks?”

“Right? Then you have to find it,” he teased, then scoffed. “Otherwise I’ll never again be able to—”

“Ah!!! Found it!” she claimed victoriously as she stood from her knees with a small box containing a cocktail shaker and other things.

“Woah!! How was I supposed to find it?! You called the box ‘tools’!!”

“It is a tool… to make drinks…” she tried, putting the box in his hands. He scoffed and she insisted, “The tool boxes are all yours anyway.”

He gasped. “There’s more than one?!”

She forced an angelic smile, then darted away, and Jin kept whining about her. You knew it was all playful and guessed Hoseok knew as hell, only he wasn’t listening. He was inspecting the sockets and light switches to ensure they were installed correctly. When a socket almost broke apart in his hand when he touched it, you guessed all of them needed to be checked.

He glanced at you, then kept going as though you could be anyone, and it annoyed you. He was the douchebag, why the hell was he ignoring you? 

You spun on your heels. “I’m going to—”

“No way!” Jin stopped you, leaning over the counter as though he would run after you if he had to. “You had a long trip, and you just got here. Sit while I make you a drink.”

Your mood lightened as the evening progressed. Hyeonseo and Jin kept playfully bickering while she made fun of him for not making proper drinks, settling instead for soju and beer bottles. The fried chicken arrived not long after, and the conversation between the four of you was decent, even if you and Hoseok never really addressed or answered each other. You never thought you’d ever be sitting down on the floor eating fried chicken with your bare hands with him, but there you were.

You were almost done eating when the doorbell rang. Hyeonseo instantly sprang up to go get it with Jin echoing close behind her, “Finally!!!”

You glanced at Hoseok, who lowered his eyes quickly as the couple got the door. Instantly, you could hear how relieved they sounded, but it was short-lived.

“This can’t be right,” Hyeonseo challenged, and you turned to look. 

There were six beige textile dining chairs with light oak legs and a gorgeous matching dining table that made you gasp quietly. It was beautiful craftsmanship with a smoke finish that just made you want to slide your hand on its surface.

“Where is the couch?”

That was the question that sparked a long, back-and-forth discussion. The delivery guys had no idea; it wasn’t on their delivery sheet. It was past closing time, so at first they couldn’t contact the retailer. Eventually, they managed to, but everything was correct on their side — chairs, table, and couch. Finally, the store said something had happened at the warehouse, and even though Hoseok offered to go get the couch himself, the manager had sad news.

“It was shipped to our warehouse in Daegu by mistake,” he said over the phone on speaker. “I can promise you’ll get it, but only on Monday.”

“It’s two hours away,” Hoseok said, and Hyeonseo shook her head.

“Two and a half hours, which makes five. You’re not going at this hour—”

“They can’t give it to you even if you go. The paperwork must be sorted before it can be delivered to you. I’ll do it personally, but they only reopen on Monday. I’m sorry.”

There seemed to be no workaround, so the call ended, and the delivery guys left.

After a moment of silence, Jin decided, “We’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hoseok instantly shook his head.

“It’s the only option.” Hyeonseo exchanged a look with Jin, then continued, “Your dad is too far away.”

“The fuel is cheaper than a hotel,” Hoseok argued, and she shrugged.

“But the four-hour drive is not worth it.”

“You blew through all your savings, absolutely not,” Hoseok insisted, throwing a look at Jin as well. “I can book my own hotel room, it’s fine—”

“Everything is likely booked because of the festival,” Jin breathed, and you knew before he finished talking that Hyeonseo would groan and curse their luck.

“Damn it, you’re right!”

Hoseok still tried, “Well, there must be one room left somewhere—”

“You can sleep with me,” you offered.

Everyone turned to look at you, even him, and the silence stretched. It was the first time he was looking at you as though he saw you, and his features hardened.

Next to him, Hyeonseo raised her voice, “I’ll ask my parents for money and—”

“What?!” Hoseok interjected, then shook his head firmly. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“You can sleep with me,” you repeated firmly, trying as best you could not to be annoyed. 

He looked at you again, and you could see the vexation sparkling in his eyes. You kept your eyes on his, daring him to say he was so petty about stupid high school drama that he’d rather sleep on the floor.

“We can’t ask you to do that,” Hyeonseo protested, and you shrugged.

“We’re both adults. Besides, we’re not strangers,” you pointed out, letting the room take in your laidbackness. 

Hours before, you had told Hyeonseo she should have known better than to invite Hoseok while you were there, and now you were saying it was fine to sleep in the same bed. And that was the thing — it was logical. Because there was a difference between what you’d prefer and the situation at hand. You were not that petty. 

Hoseok kept scrutinizing you as though he could read your mind, and you held his stare relaxedly, with nothing to hide. “I don't bite, you know.”

He rolled his eyes as Jin and Hyeonseo exchanged a look, but then they looked at Hoseok, and you noticed the hope in their eyes. You didn’t doubt they’d call their parents and get money to pay for a place somewhere, even if it cost hundreds of thousands or millions of Korean won a night. But you also knew there was no way Hoseok would go for that. And there was no way they’d let him pay it, so—

“Fine,” Hoseok accepted as he shrugged. His hands were in his pockets, and you couldn’t help the irritation. Not even a thank you, a bow, an acknowledgment, or any indication that he’d make this an endurable experience. You couldn’t believe you had ever fallen for him. Even as a teen, how were you so stupid? He was not a soft-spoken or gentle person. He was unrefined and ungrateful.

“Shouldn’t you also promise not to bite her?” Jin asked Hoseok, and Hyeonseo elbowed her fiancé. Hoseok didn’t bother answering, and you couldn’t tell if Jin was serious or trying to lighten the mood. He insisted, “No, I’m serious. I think it’s only healthy to establish boundaries. See, I should have forbidden you from hitting me from the start, now it’s a bad habit,” he explained as he caught Hyeonseo’s hands mid air trying to stop him from saying nonsense and making things weird. “We’re a cautionary tale, kids. Listen well to—”

“Oh, stop it,” she whined, and Jin smiled and kissed her forehead.

“It’s getting late,” Hobi commented, interrupting them. “Maybe we should decide on how to make this weekend the most efficient.”

He grabbed his beer and waved at the hosts to sit first on their new dining chairs. You couldn’t help but smile as Hyeonseo and Jin sat and touched the new table, kicking their feet and giggling — their house was coming together little by little. 

Hoseok gave them a minute before settling on a chair next to Jin, and you finally mimicked him — you grabbed your soju and sat next to Hyeonseo.

“Okay, let’s make a list and then establish priorities,” Hoseok started, and everyone agreed. “Have you bought the stove?”

“Yes, we can pick it up tomorrow morning,” Jin replied.

“Okay, I can install it. I noticed that some sockets and light switches are not installed properly, and one of them is broken. We need to buy that too. Now, lamps,” he pointed above their heads, “you only have the light bulbs or nothing at all. We need to get something too, have you decided what you want?”

“We wanted something modern and simplistic,” Hyeonseo told him, and Jin nodded.

“Pick something, I can also install them. Same for garden lights. What else?” Hoseok mused, looking around. “We’ll need to paint the whole ground floor, bathrooms, and corridors. I noticed the damage and cracks on the wall.”

“We were told it was normal,” Hyeonseo mumbled, instantly worried, and Hoseok nodded.

“It is, it’s the house breathing, and probably from paintings and shelves and things like that from the previous owners. But I’ll patch those up before we paint. I also noticed that the doors look old, and the built-in closets are not looking great either. Have you considered replacing them?”

Hyeonseo shook her head, but you spoke first, “That’s why I’m here. They need a bit of work, but they should be great after I’m done with them.”

He didn’t instantly reply, and both Jin and Hyeonseo stayed quiet. Hoseok just looked at you as though he was evaluating whether he had misjudged your role in this renovation, and you couldn’t care less about his opinion. 

You turned to the couple. “I’ll also remove the stains from the stairs. Though for that, I need you to buy the proper remover tomorrow as well.”

Hoseok hummed. “Okay, that’s a lot of work for two days. Maybe we should start prepping still tonight.”

You scoffed. “No way,” you disagreed, then shrugged. “We’re four adults and two of us know what we’re doing. As long as we have everything we need, this will go fast.”

He huffed. “Still. Prepping now is time we don’t have to spend tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hyeonseo. “You have the paint you want?”

“Yes.”

“Did you pick special paint for the bathrooms?” Hoseok asked. “Because of the humidity—”

“I told them to get waterproof paint,” you interrupted.

“She did, we have it,” Jin confirmed, eyeing the two of you as though you were children about to fight.

You looked away from Hoseok to Hyeonseo. “So the most efficient way of doing things will be that you and Jin go get your stove and the ceiling and garden lights while Hoseok handles the wall patches, and I check the sockets and light switches.”

“You know how to do that?” Hoseok asked, and you couldn’t help your sarcasm.

“What else are you going to ask me? If I can change a light bulb?”

His features sharpened, but Hyeonseo spoke first, “Alright, and then?”

“Then Hoseok can install the stove so we can eat lunch while the others prep the floors, skirting boards, and windows. I wouldn’t tape the doors cause I plan on sanding them and painting them anyway. Then, after lunch, if the patches are dry, we can sand them and start painting. That will take the longest, but with three people, you’ll go fast.”

“Why, what will you do?” Hoseok asked with a hint of cynicism.

“I’ll start with the stairs because they will take the longest. Then I’ll handle the closets and then the doors. If you could sand them beforehand, that would be great.”

He scoffed with derision before smiling. “There’s one flaw in your plan.”

“What?”

“The spackling paste needs at least twenty-four hours to dry.”

You frowned. “No, it doesn’t, a couple of hours is enough.”

“No, that’s not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s to fix little—”

“Doesn’t matter how little it is, the paint won't adhere nicely and it will be noticeable in the long run,” he argued, and you heaved a deep breath.

“Guys—” Hyeonseo tried.

“Fine,” you relented, though as annoyed as ever. “Then we only paint the walls and ceilings without patches and leave the others for Sunday.”

Hoseok didn’t even blink. “Once you open the paint bucket, the color might change.”

You had to snicker. “Over twelve hours? Give me a break!”

“It’s best to do it in one go,” Hoseok insisted.

“Sure, it’s best, but we only have two days!”

“If we start tonight, we can get it all done.”

“We’re too tired to start tonight, we can start tomorrow!” you argued, leaning over the table towards him.

“We won't be able to finish it.”

“Whatever we can’t finish, they can. They’ll at least know what to do. They can paint anytime!”

He rolled his eyes. “They need to live too. They have everything in boxes. They don’t even have closets to put their clothes or shoes in—”

You bristled. “You worry about your part, I’ll worry about mine!!”

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Jin suggested, rising from his chair. “How about a drink? A toast?”

Hyeonseo instantly picked up on his cue. “That’s a great idea! Another beer? And for you, soju?” You gave her a look, but eventually nodded and got up alongside her. Hoseok stood up too, and you ignored him. You had to swallow your pride and tone it down; there was no use in wasting your time with him.

Jin was back in a second and opened the bottles, then passed them around. Then, he raised his. “To moving in with my starlight and to surviving this,” he started, and Hyeonseo elbowed him.

“To our best man and maid of honor for being by our sides every step of our lives. We love you,” she added, teary-eyed, and you reached an arm around her. You didn’t want to fight or stress her out even more. She knew that, you could see it in her fond smile as she eyed you. 

“Right, thank you also for helping us finish our house and saving us a lot of money!” Jin added cheekily, and you all had to smile.

“Jjan!”

Four bottles clinked together, and you were still smiling when your eyes crossed Hoseok’s. His expression was so much lighter and tender that it was like a gut punch. He looked just like when you were teenagers at parties or school, laughing and playing around. It was nonsensical, but your heart fluttered just as it had back then. You had to press your lips before taking a sip from your drink. It was as though your heart had forgotten all that had happened on your prom night.

But he was quick to remind you why you had fallen out. He put the bottle down and headed toward his tools in the far corner of the living room. “I’ll patch the walls tonight so we can paint tomorrow.”

You widened your eyes, instantly irked, and Hyeonseo put her hand on your shoulder, shaking her head. Jin hurried to follow Hoseok while you bristled. “Why does he have to be like this?!”

“Let him,” she told you with a shrug. “It’s his body and energy, right? Don’t worry about him, let’s get you settled in.”

You appreciated Hyeonseo's help with your bags and even more the time alone with her. With the move and her wedding planning, you barely had time to talk. 

She turned to you, then propped herself up on one elbow beside you on the bed. “Do you think they're still at it?”

You nodded. You had suggested that Hoseok take the morning to do spackling because you believed he'd need more than two hours. You hadn't even been talking that long.

You tapped your fingers on the mattress over the sheet, then got up and neared the built-in closet in that room. You stood your ground that you’d only really start tomorrow, but the fact that Hoseok was getting things done already made you a little restless. It wasn’t a competition, but…

Hyeonseo called your name, and you hummed while you inspected the closet in the same way you had the other one earlier. No blue stains there, so that was a plus.

“Is it really okay for Hoseok to sleep here?”

You didn't answer, frowning as you felt something on a shelf that you weren't expecting. 

“I was thinking that maybe he could sleep with Jin while I—”

“Shit!!” you exclaimed.

“What?”

She got up to join you as you started hitting the shelf until it dislodged, and you could take it out. 

“Shit,” you bit again and she looked at the wooden shelf in your hand. “See this?” You pointed at the edge — it looked rugged, frail, and friable, as if it were about to break apart. “It's rotten. I think a few of them have it. Something must have spilled in there, and they didn't clean it properly at the time.”

“Okay… can you fix it?”

You were fretful as you realized the problem. “I can, but I didn't bring wood with me or tools to cut wood. I do have glue, but that’s about it.”

“Okay, but… is it really a big deal?”

You looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to let you use a closet that is rotting! It’s not impossible to fix, I just don’t have the tools!”

She nodded, knowing you well enough — you said you’d do it and you didn’t like failing your best friend. “I can ask Hobi.”

Your eyes instantly widened as though she had lost her mind. “I don’t want to ask him!” you blurted out louder than you needed to, and you instantly regretted it. Hyeonseo raised an eyebrow, and you swallowed dryly, reeling your irritation back in. This wasn’t about you. “But I will.”

“I can ask,” she suggested, and you shook your head.

“No, I need to ask.”

Hyeonseo didn’t question you, and you were thankful for it. You followed her out of the room downstairs as you mused over how to go about this. You decided that being professional was the best way to handle the situation. For Hyeonseo and Jin, Hoseok would surely agree.

You found him on a ladder, sanding a hole in the wall, likely from a nail used to hang up a painting. On your way, you notice multiple patches already spackled, and you have to give it to him — he’s fast and efficient. Hyeonseo turned to the kitchen to talk to Jin, but you didn’t. You stopped right next to Hoseok.

“What?” he asked quietly, feeling the hole and surrounding wall with a digit before passing the brown sandpaper a few more times.

“I need to ask you something.”

He didn’t stop working or tell you to go on, so you couldn’t help seething underneath your composure.

Still, you continued, “Did you bring any tools to work with wood?”

“I did.”

Your expression instantly morphed from concealed anger to hope. “What did you bring?”

“I have a track saw.”

“And bar clamps?”

He finally put the sandpaper in a pocket of his cargo pants and turned to look at you. “Yeah, why?”

You instantly explained the situation to him, transparent about what you needed and why. You knew you sounded overly concerned about something simple, but he didn’t snicker or mock. Instead, by the time you were done explaining what you needed and what you planned on doing, he was down from the ladder, listening to you intently. 

“What type of wood do you need?”

“A type of soft pine wood. It’s inside the closet, so I can turn the shelf around and it won’t be visible even if the color is slightly different.”

He nodded. “What size?”

You raised your hand. “About twenty by ten? I’m not sure yet, I haven’t cut the rot out yet.”

“How many?”

“Two that I’ve noticed so far.”

“So, four bar clamps would be enough?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’ll check, give me a sec.”

You held back from following him and simply stayed put, waiting expectantly. You couldn’t believe you were nervous and hopeful that Hoseok would help you with this. But at the same time, you didn’t care that it was him as long as you could do it. Built-in closets were expensive, and you didn’t want to leave without fixing them. On one hand, you could just buy new shelves, but on the other, that felt like wasted money when it was something you knew how to fix.

When he came back, you rushed to him. He had six bar clamps in one hand and a couple of planks of wood that you instantly took off his hands. You analyzed the thickness, color, and size while he put the bar clamps down in the corner next to his tools.

“What do you think?” he asked, stopping next to you with his hands on his waist.

“They’ll do,” you told him with relief relaxing your shoulders. “Should I go take the measurements now?”

His eyebrows raised in a moment of surprise, and you pressed your lips. You surprised yourself by asking his opinion.

“No, that’s okay,” he said quietly, extending his hands so you could give him the planks. “Maybe we could start with the closets tomorrow morning? That way, you can leave the wood gluing until Sunday while you get the stairs done.”

You nodded, gave him the planks so he could put them down, and pressed your lips, noticing the bucket with spackling paste hanging on the ladder.

“Cool,” he told you before getting back on the ladder. 

You kept your lips pressed as he grabbed his metal spackle knife. You cleared your throat. “And the sockets and light switches?”

“I can check them, don’t worry.”

He gathered paste on his spackle knife and applied it to the wall, and you ended up sighing. “Do you need help?”

“I’m almost done,” he muttered, focused on what he was doing. “A couple more and I’ll be done.”

He got down from the ladder, and if he could see your uneasiness, he didn’t say anything. So you simply nodded and let him be. After informing Hyeonseo and Jin about Hoseok helping you with everything in the morning, you headed to bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Hoseok said he’d be done soon. What was taking so long? You huffed and played with the sheet while you waited, getting irked. Why did you care anyway?

You sighed and looked at the ceiling. While you almost berated him for wanting to start tonight, it was the fact that he did that that gave you extra time to handle the unexpected wood rot in the built-in closet. Not only that, but he simply offered to help instead of flat out refusing or even taking a jab. He ended up being way more professional than you were, making you uneasy with your own attitude. You wanted things to go smoothly.

It was almost two in the morning by the time he entered the bedroom. He did so quietly in case you were sleeping, so you croaked hurriedly, “I’m not sleeping yet.”

He paused and looked at you, already under the sheets, then nodded. He had a bag with him that he dropped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, then suddenly stopped, and turned to look back at you.

You instantly tensed up and stammered, “Do you prefer this side of the bed?”

He looked down and turned away, kneeling to search for something inside his bag. “No.”

You pressed your lips as your heart started racing inside your chest. You were hyperaware of the t-shirt and shorts you had on, of the softness of the sheets you were lying on, and of what else you could potentially feel once he joined you in bed. Of course, you were no longer a teenager, but he was still… attractive and off-putting and…

He found a t-shirt and kept rummaging for something else while you swallowed dryly. He was just a hot guy you once pinned after. That was a long time ago.

He pulled a pair of shorts out and got up with the clothes in his hands, and you spoke without thinking, “I can turn around if you want.”

He blinked at you, but you were already turning to give him privacy. Instantly, your whole body heated up like crazy. Why would he change here? You were here; that would be weird. And now it would be embarrassing in any case, whether he stayed or left to change somewhere else.

You berated yourself in your head for being stupid. You should have been asleep instead of saying—

A muffled sound reached your ears, making you feel even hotter. You could imagine his cargo pants hitting the floor or his tank top, and something thrummed under your skin, making you rub your thighs together. For a second, you closed your eyes. You still remembered what it was like to be around him during high school. The way he laughed or held the door open for you. You were good friends, although for you, he was so much more.

The bed dipped behind you, and you burned. A wave of heat scorched your spine up to your neck as Hoseok settled behind you, and you could barely breathe.

He whispered, “Can I turn off the light?”

“Wait.”

Your breath hitched with your plea, and your cheeks flushed. You didn’t know your voice could sound like that, and you could only pray that he didn’t notice.

You turned back around to face him and found him looking at you with a raised eyebrow, arm stretched out to the light switch on the wall.

“I…” Your voice trailed off as you looked down. He was under the sheet, right there, an arm's length away. You cleared your voice. “Do you need a blanket?”

He observed your whole face for a second before answering, “No, do you?”

You shook your head. “I think I’ll be too hot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized you said it out loud. He didn’t even blink, but your cheeks were burning. Suddenly, you felt like breathing was impossible while he looked at you like that.

At least until he turned off the light. “Yeah, I get that.”

You didn’t know why you were reacting this way. If anything, he turned off the lights, so it had to mean he was done for the night. No more talking, looking at each other, and certainly no touching or wondering or—

You pushed a tense breath through your gritted teeth. You weren’t making any sense.

You turned your head to his side in the dark. He hadn’t moved next to you, which meant you were both just staring at the ceiling, awkward and stiff next to each other.

“Okay, listen,” you croaked out once more. “I know this is awkward, but it’s just sleeping. Can we agree to be normal and just get through this?”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?”

“N— No, I’m just—” You struggled to find words, especially because everything pointed to you not being the normal one. “I just meant that we could cooperate since we’re in this situation.”

“Am I not cooperating?”

“You are, I’m just saying that— Gosh, just—” The more you stumbled all over your words, the more you had no idea what you even meant anymore. “You can trust me, that’s all.”

You looked at him in the dark again, wondering if he’d have a snarky remark or if he’d call you out for blushing and acting weird, unlike him. You braced yourself for it, thinking what excuse you could give, and as you waited, the silence stretched. You frowned; maybe he had fallen asleep?

But eventually, he whispered, “Okay.”

You woke up slowly, so warm and snuggly, you didn’t want to move or open your eyes. You were hugging the most wonderful pillow, warm and soft, with an earthy, citrusy masculine scent that had you dreaming of walking through sun-warmed soil and citrus groves. You buried your nose a bit more, wondering why the fabric was soft but the pillow itself was so sturdy—

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back, gasping mutely before your hand covered your mouth. Your heart raced inside your chest as you realized you were spooning Hoseok, burying your face in his back, and getting crazed by his cologne. Your eyes widened impossibly; how crazy were you?! Yet before you could understand what the heck happened, Hoseok’s arm moved and felt the space behind him. Your stomach twisted as you slid further away from his reach, your heart about to come out of your mouth with how fast it was racing. 

Whatever he thought was missing was not enough to wake him up or make him turn around. Thinking you stood a chance, you pulled the sheet closer to his back before sliding away and putting your legs out of the bed. You hugged your chest for a moment, willing yourself to calm down before getting up, grabbing your things, and rushing to the bathroom. It looked like you were the first one up, and maybe that was a good thing, because you needed to do some serious soul-searching to figure yourself out.

It was just Hoseok. You didn’t even like him, hadn’t for many years. Hadn’t since he misled you, broke your heart, hurt you, making you angrier than you had ever felt. And humiliated and blindsided and—

You clenched your teeth as you washed your face. Right. That Hoseok. You weren’t seventeen anymore, but it didn’t hurt to remember what happened. Maybe your attraction to him was undeniable, but he still didn’t deserve a second of your attention, let alone whatever was happening to you. You were there to help Jin and Hyeonseo, nothing more.

When you got downstairs, you were glad to find the happy couple scrambling to prepare whatever was left for breakfast and brewing coffee. It gave you a moment to sit down, chill, and wait for Hoseok to wake up. 

Five minutes later, Hoseok was already downstairs and ready to have coffee, so you finished yours in an instant to get to work.

Hoseok's calling halted you in your tracks. “Wait, let’s decide what our morning looks like first.” You pressed your lips and nodded, rejoining the three of them in the kitchen. He turned to the couple. “Have you decided on the lights you want?”

“Yeah, we stayed up last night deciding,” Hyeonseo beamed, and Jin grabbed his phone to show what they had picked.

You didn’t have much to say; their options were modern and seamless, easily blending in with their aesthetic.

“Okay, so the plan is the same,” Hoseok concluded, glancing at you. “You go with Hyeonseo to get the stove, the lights you selected, and the stain remover. Meanwhile, we’ll get the closets started. We should take care of the sockets and light switches before we prep for painting. Also, you need to get covers for the floor.”

“We saved cardboard boxes to use them as protection,” Hyeonseo shared with a smile, nudging you.

“Good idea,” Hoseok agreed, and your lips twitched in the hint of a smile. Of course it was.

Everyone agreed on what to do, so you went ahead upstairs. Now you were paranoid that there could be more rot you hadn’t found, so the quicker you were sure the built-in closets were fine, the better.

You grabbed your toolbox and got started in your room, removing the doors, drawers, and shelves from the closet, and laying them on the floor out of the way in a corner of the room. The two shelves that had rotted were placed to one side, and fortunately, everything else seemed to be in good condition. You tapped everywhere extra times and felt each surface to make extra sure everything was fine. Once you were certain, you moved to the master bedroom and repeated the same process there.

Fortunately, no rot there, but the front of the sliding doors had dark blue stains on the flower carvings. Once everything was dismantled, you knelt and felt the paint splashes with your finger, and that was how Hoseok found you.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s okay. The ones with the rot are in our room,” you told him, stopping what you were doing to show them to him.

Once there, you let him evaluate them himself as you discussed how you’d like them cut and fixed.

“Okay, so about five centimeters more?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to measure them and cut the new wood to size?”

“Yeah, I’ll glue them then,” you agreed, already thinking about what you had to do there while he helped with that.

He nodded. “You got it.”

You glanced at him as he left with the shelves to be cut, but didn’t notice his expression. You assumed you could trust him, given his experience, and weren’t shy about letting him do it. You had a long day ahead of you anyway.

You started getting the metal shelf pins off the closet, then unscrewed the handles of the drawers and the drawer frames. Despite the age of the wood and the carelessness with whatever liquid had rotted the shelves, the closet was at least relatively well-preserved. 

When you looked up, you frowned. You were a bit short, but that closet rod was really up high. Even Hyeonseo would have difficulties using it. You should probably lower it a bit once you were done.

You jumped a few times to try to get the closet rod to come off, but it was screwed in. So your next step was to search for a ladder downstairs. You grabbed the first one you could find that was truly just a two-step folding ladder and got back to it. You had to get on your tippy toes with your screwdriver to reach the bracket and try to unscrew it, all while the metal step moaned under your feet.

Gritting through it, you smiled when the bracket came loose. However, as soon as it did, you realized it was a terrible idea to support your weight on the rod itself. As soon as it loosened, it gave way under your weight, and you fell forward.

Except a pair of hands grabbed you by the waist before you could fall inside the closet. A ruckus echoed all around you, and you cowered, covering your ears. The rod clattered inside the closet below your feet as wood shelves were tossed to the side on the floor.

Seeing them made you realize you were pressed firmly to someone’s chest. Someone who stepped on the ladder and steadied you firmly.

“Are you okay?”

You shuddered and looked over your shoulder. Hoseok was so close, letting you down slowly as your legs gave in. He supported your weight until your feet were safely on the floor. You turned to him, the adrenaline making you tremble. And yet he kept his hands firmly on your waist, making you blush even more as you tried to calm down.

“What were you doing?” he asked, and you finally saw the tension in his shoulders. “Why are you using the short ladder if you can't reach it?”

“Because— I—” you stammered, losing yourself in his eyes for a second. “Because I thought you’d need the big one.”

“I was cutting the wood pieces outside,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well, for the…lights.”

He huffed and gave you a look, and you pressed your lips. Right as you did and realized it was unlikely your heart would stop racing for as long as his hands stayed on your waist, you heard the sound of racing footsteps up the stairs.

“Is everything okay?!” Hyeonseo shouted, but it was Jin who showed up first.

“We heard—”

He stumbled on his feet and words at the sight of Hoseok dropping his hands at your sides. Jin’s eyes were comically widened when his fiancé entered the room, looking spooked.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay. It was just noise; nothing serious happened. Thanks for the help,” you added, looking at Hoseok for a moment. “I still need to take the rod from the other closet as well, so…”

“I’ll do it,” he offered, and you frowned.

“No, I will do it.”

He sighed. “Just let me do it.”

“No!” You squinted. “I can perfectly do it myself!”

“You won’t reach it.”

You scoffed. “I can definitely reach it!”

“It’s not safe.”

“Guys—”

“Well, then help me.”

Hyeonseo called your name, and you both finally turned to her. “Should we get the other ladder?”

Jin was already exiting the room when you said, “There’s no need. This one is already here,” you remarked, with your eyes on Hoseok. You were blatantly going against his advice, but it didn’t feel like an argument. It felt like something else.

“Be reasonable,” he breathed, and you leaned toward him.

“I am. I’ll do it, and you’ll help me.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin while you folded the two-step ladder and exited the room with Hoseok not far behind you.

“Well, we’ll go get the stove then,” Jin announced, not getting much of a response. Hyeonseo patted his shoulder, then grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs.

You didn’t see his face of disbelief because you were busy setting the ladder in front of the built-in closet in the master bedroom.

“How should I help you?”

“Stabilize the ladder.”

You stepped on it, screwdriver in hand, and he huffed. “It’s not enough,” he complained, and you smiled, already on your tiptoes to get the bracket uncrewed.

“Then stabilize me.”

He circled the ladder to get in front of you, settling his firm hands on your waist. You had a smug smile as you got the rod, but it vanished when you looked down. Hoseok was at your chest level, looking at you with dark eyes. It made your knees weak, and he was quick to grab you and put you down on the floor again.

This time, he removed his hands quickly, pushing you out of your haze. You swallowed dryly. “Thanks. See? Reached it very well,” you told him. He nodded, and you set the rod aside. “So, the shelves. We need to glue the pieces together.”

You weren’t even surprised he helped you, but you were thankful. It went faster as you applied the glue and set the pieces in position while he tightened the bar clamps to keep everything locked tight.

“There,” he said, once everything was done. You left everything drying in the hallway so the rooms wouldn’t smell. “Now you can move on to the stairs and handle the closets tomorrow.”

You shook your head. “First, the sockets and light switches.”

“I can handle that,” he suggested as you both went down the stairs.

“No, it’s faster like this. This way, if they need to buy extra, we can call them while they’re at the store.”

Hoseok turned to you when you both got to the ground floor and nodded. “Thank you.”

You weren’t supposed to have fun with Hoseok, but you wouldn’t deny it happened. You made it a competition to check every socket and light switch as fast as possible, and it was super tight. You won, checking your half first, but Hoseok dismissed it by saying he had caught two broken sockets. He had to call Jin and Hyeonseo to ask them to buy new sockets, explaining what type was needed, and you grinned. It was still a win in your book.

When the couple returned, you were quick to say you’d fix those sockets while Hoseok installed the stove. While he took the time to prepare, you noticed he kept an eye on you. You couldn’t help a smug smile while you connected the three cables in the correct color code, housed properly in the backbox, before you screwed the faceplate over it. You did it in record time, and when you got up to move to the other one, you saw him turning away with a smile on his face. You didn’t know why, but impressing him made you really fuzzy for some reason.

After that, you evaluated the stairs more seriously. You knew that even if the stains weren’t extensive, you had to do it properly — every stair tread multiple times. You weren’t even sure a whole afternoon would be enough.

You huffed and turned away, grabbing painter’s tape to start prepping alongside Jin and Hyeonseo. You even got on the high ladder to protect the fire alarm on the ceiling and noticed Hoseok glancing at you every now and then.

Hoseok and Jin installed the bedroom and bathroom lights after that, and you decided that helping with lunch was more efficient than just hanging around. It gave you more time to talk to Hyeonseo and ensure everyone got an early lunch.

“How's your shop coming along?” she asked you as she cooked and you chopped vegetables.

“You mean my online store?” you asked, and she nodded. “I have enough commissions on Etsy and other platforms to do nothing else. Working on those items means I have content to upload on social media, and I have enough views that I make some money from that already.”

“Can you believe that? Remember when restoring things was just a hobby you did in your parents' living room?”

You nodded, giving her the chopped onions. “And now I have a room in my apartment that’s my workshop.”

She took them and kept cooking. “Maybe one day you’ll have a physical store!”

You crinkled your nose and grabbed plates and chopsticks to set the table. “Not sure it will ever be worth it, especially in Seoul.”

“Seoul?” You turned around to Hoseok and Jin, now seemingly done with the lights. For now. “You live in Seoul?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Hoseok asked, grabbing the glasses and water jar. Jin passed behind him and you to help his fiancée.

“Seocho-gu…”

“Seocho-gu??” Hoseok almost choked as he placed what he was carrying on the dining table, same as you. “I live there! Where?”

“Nambusunhwan-ro, in a street that leads to the Daehang Hospital.”

“That’s so close to where I live! Woah, the world is small!”

You pressed your lips and nodded slowly while setting the table alongside him. “And you work there too?”

“Not there, I teach in Hongdae.”

“You’re also a teacher?”

“Oh, you’re a teacher?”

You shook your head as Jin and Hyeonseo carried the many side dishes to the table. “Like Hyeonseo, I mean,” you clarified, working with everyone to finish everything and start eating.

It gave Hyeonseo the opportunity to talk about her school and kids, and finally sigh, “I’m happy I teach kids before they become teens.”

“Yeah, I teach adults. It’s much better,” Hoseok acknowledged before turning to you. “But you don’t teach.”

“No, I restore old items like furniture and chandeliers and sell them online.”

“Ohhhh.” Hoseok nodded. “That explains it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you teach?”

“I’m a dance instructor.”

You didn’t hide your surprise. “So you don’t work with your dad?”

“Fuck no,” he grumbled.

The conversation evolved in another direction, but you stayed behind, wondering if you ever knew Hoseok at all. You were friends for a year in high school; good friends, you’d say. You remembered him talking about his parents' divorce, for example, but not about the time he spent with his dad. You knew he enjoyed dancing, but you never knew he took it seriously. You realized after that you probably didn’t know him well, if he could blindside you like that, but now you were realizing you never knew him at all.

Everyone helped clean up, and while Jin put on music to cheer up the place, you couldn’t help but chuckle. He had pulled Hyeonseo to the middle of the room to dance while you and Hoseok handled the dirty dishes, and it was a sight to see. 

“It’s our song!” she laughed as Jin swung her around. To call it dancing would probably be too much, but the song did say ‘shut up and dance with me’ multiple times.

You glanced at Hoseok, who was quietly next to you, just looking at them with a soft expression, and you guessed he remembered it too. Jin and Hyeonseo were always like this, all the way back in high school. They were the living proof that young love could grow and evolve into something beautiful.

Once you finished with the kitchen, you let Hoseok handle the painting with the couple while you turned to the stairs. You were already dreading the amount of time it would take and the stinky smell, but it was for a good cause.

You opened the windows up and downstairs, put on gloves, and then prepared the gel that would remove the paint. You decided to do two steps at a time, tread and riser, top to bottom, so that while one set had the solvent, you could already scrape the previous and not get burned. Grabbing your brush, you glanced at Hoseok, who was starting to paint the kitchen ceiling after they had spent some time protecting the cupboards and surfaces. He didn’t say anything about the stairs, and you sighed. Even he didn’t want to get involved.

You covered the first two steps with the gel and stepped away to breathe normal air for a second. After fifteen minutes, you started scraping the gel and paint with a spatula, and Hyeonseo clapped behind you.

“It’s working!!”

You glanced at her, then sighed. “This is going to take a while.”

“And now?” Hyeonseo asked behind you. 

You sighed and turned to her, shutting off your electric sander and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt. She was clearly worried about you, and you didn’t have the energy to react whatsoever.

It had been seven hours since you started with the stairs, and you could feel Hyeonseo’s discomfort every time she checked up on you. First, she thought it would go really fast—until she realized you had to apply the solvent, wait twenty minutes, scrape it off, and clean the grime at least twice from every tread and riser. All fourteen steps.

You touched the diluent with your forearm, so that got you a small burn mark that she freaked out about. When you tried assuring her it wouldn’t happen again, she assumed it was because you were done. But you still had to sand everything multiple times.

So you had been using your electric sander for the past couple of hours. First with heavy grit, then medium grit, then fine grit. Hyeonseo had checked on you a couple of times, but she didn’t understand that you couldn’t stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to lift a finger anymore.

You put the electric sander down and passed your hand on the last step. “It’s going well.”

“Are you done?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“It’s almost eight… we were thinking of going out for dinner and checking out the festival.”

You suppressed a laugh. “Sure. Not sure I can survive that, but sure.”

Hyeonseo sighed while the men kept painting, now in the bathroom, you believed. “You’re not supposed to kill yourself doing this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”

You grabbed a pot of wood filler that matched the Korean pine wood color of the stairs and a putty knife, and climbed up the stairs again.

Hyeonseo’s eyes widened. “What are you doing now?!”

“Fixing your stairs,” you informed, getting to work filling every crack and hole you saw.

“But— The paint is gone, so—”

“Stop worrying,” you told her. “Let me do my thing.”

She sighed.

You opened your eyes and instantly groaned — shit, everything hurt.

Raising your head from the pillow, you looked around the dark room with a frown. You had fallen asleep. Shit.

Your eyes drifted to the closed door. What was that noise?

You got up from bed, feeling even more dead than when you lay down just for a minute to rest your eyes. That was a terrible idea, you mused as you got out of the bedroom and followed the noise. 

What you found made you stagger atop the stairs. Hoseok was sitting on the second step of the stairs, counting from the bottom, using a delta sander to get the corners perfectly, judging by his gentle and precise technique.

You shook your head. “Wait,” you said, going down the stairs, and he stopped to look at you. “The filler has to dry.”

“And it did,” he agreed, grabbing a sheet of sandpaper to sand the nosing of the step.

You were baffled. “How long did I sleep?”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “About three hours.”

You cursed vilely. “And nobody woke me up?!”

“You needed the rest.”

“And you didn’t?!”

“Everybody took a nap,” he told you with a light smile, and your eyes widened.

“You too?”

He nodded. “You didn’t flinch when I lay down or when I got up.” You rubbed your eyes, slightly embarrassed, and he continued, “Jin and Hyeonseo are getting ready for dinner, and then it’s our turn.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”

“We’re going to a barbecue place,” he said casually, basically telling you not to worry, and you deflated. As long as you weren’t ruining anyone’s plans.

“What do you think?” you asked, kneeling to feel the texture of the stairs.

“You did a wonderful job,” he complimented, and you looked at him as he analyzed the details. “Stains are gone, every surface is smooth and balanced. You even picked the right color for the filler. A second sanding and it will basically become invisible.”

“It’s already pretty good,” you commented, scrutinizing the bigger patches you had fixed that were barely noticeable after Hoseok sanded once.

“Indeed.”

You felt the nosing of the step you were on and pressed your lips. “Thanks for the help.”

He got up, and you did the same, towering over him ever so slightly. 

“Not a problem.”

Your eyes locked on his, and you didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, you were actually fine with him. Anger and frustration were no longer bubbling under your skin, making you believe you had moved on from what happened. Though the more your heart beat, the more you questioned how he drew you in like this.

“You were right, you know,” you whispered, and his eyes lowered to your lips. It likely didn’t mean anything, but your heart skipped a beat or two. “I should have started last night. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything properly so far without your help. And I’ve only started the closets and the stairs,” you remarked with a sigh. ”I don’t know how I’m going to do the doors as well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he instantly reassured you, raising his eyes to yours again. His tone was warm and intimate, and it made you shudder. “I’ll sand them tomorrow, and they can paint them later. They’re pros at it now.”

He said it jokingly, and you chuckled, letting that warmth envelop you.

He licked his lips. “I know how exhausting it can be, and we don’t have much time. So don’t worry about anything. Whatever you need, you can ask me.”

You searched his eyes and saw nothing but honesty, and your heart was unrestrained. Logically, you knew exactly what he was saying, but your stupid heart was still racing. You observed his features, both gentle and sharp, as he looked at you. You could swear his eyes had as much intensity as yours, but you had to doubt yourself. Were you still pining after Hoseok? Were you really over him if all it took was a few whispers for him to steal your heart again, even after so many years?

“Oh, you woke up!” Jin exclaimed from the top of the stairs, and you turned around. “You can go ahead and shower.”

You pressed your lips and eyed Hoseok before climbing up the stairs again.

You didn’t know how you got here.

“Come on!” Hoseok insisted with a lopsided smile and a glint in his eyes. 

He held your hand and you blushed, stammering, “I can't…”

“Oh, come on!” he insisted. “I’ve already heard you snore. There are no secrets between us.”

You heard Jin and Hyeonseo laugh behind you, and let Hoseok drag you closer to the crowd of people dancing.

Thinking again, you knew how you got there. You all ate barbecue and had a few drinks, and now you were tipsy with a dance instructor insisting you should embarrass yourself in front of your friends. And what was worse, you didn’t mind.

He turned to you and grabbed your hand, spinning you once to loosen you up. “Just relax.”

You tried moving side to side along to the music, but you were no good. You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were nailed to the floor as he tried to get you to follow his lead with your hand. Suffice it to say it wasn’t working.

“It’s no use,” you told him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just no good.”

“Nonsense,” he breathed, pulling you close. The music shifted to something more commercial that you recognised, but didn’t pay much mind to. “Just hold onto me.”

He wrapped your arms around him, then wrapped his around your middle. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to look away, afraid your red cheeks would be too obvious. So you hugged his chest and let him swing you both to the song’s rhythm.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the earthy citrusy cologne while his firm chest acted as a pillow. Little by little, you relaxed, letting the moment sway you and take you. The lyrics spoke of running away and young love, and your mind blanked as he guided you ever so gently. His hips were moving to the beat, and although he wasn’t forcing you to match him, you found yourself doing it. Your hips had a mind of their own and swiveled to match his, and his posture changed.

You looked up at him, flushed and slightly embarrassed. You weren’t really just dancing with the way you were glued together. His body was firm, warm, relentless, pressed to you, never once leaving you behind. On the contrary, his hips responded to yours the same way his hands brushed up and down your body in feather-like touches, covering you with goosebumps all over.

What were you two doing?

“That’s it,” he murmured, and you looked up at him. He raised his fingers to brush your hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well.”

A familiar burn spread through your whole body, making you swallow dryly and lose sight of reality for a second. You wanted him. Your fingers curled around his neck, and his weren’t shy about pressing your waist. In another world, you would have kissed him already. You were burning, breathlessly swivelling your hips with him in a crowd, gushing between your legs, and eager to jump him. There was no way you felt all that without him feeling something. And on top of that, his eyes were fixed on you. He wasn’t looking away, or eager for it to be over. He was pressing you closer, guiding your bodies, breathing at the same tempo as you, licking his lips as though he wanted to taste you.

The music halted for a moment, and a message was broadcast through the speakers, but you weren’t paying attention. Hoseok hadn’t let you go; neither of you had moved. 

While you pondered over what you could say, a voice from behind you snapped you back to reality.

“Woah! You’ll have to teach us how to dance like that for our wedding!”

Hoseok let go of you slowly, and you let him, loosening your grip as well. You wondered if his eyes held a question before they turned to your best friend.

“I will, don’t worry!” Hoseok replied with a grin. “Anyone can feel the rhythm. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” he answered, seemingly proud of himself, and you felt the flame inside you wither until it was snuffed out.

“Really?” Hyeonseo asked with a teasing tone, but you were no longer listening.

“Excuse me.”

You spun around, letting your feet take you as far away as possible. You frowned as you walked, confused about the feeling twisting your guts. So what if Hoseok was a good teacher and bragged about it? Why was that making you so furious?

Sitting on a street bench while the crowds passed you by, you took a deep breath. You knew why, even if it was hard to admit. You thought you two had something special. There was tension and want, and you believed you weren’t the only one feeling it. But you were. Again.

Suddenly, there were tears in your eyes. You felt seventeen again, crying and wondering where you went wrong. What you did wrong, what you interpreted wrong. But you were twenty three now, and you refused to go through the same shit for the same guy. Fuck that!

You didn't want to worry Hyeonseo, so you made your way back. You found them chatting in a way that made you think they were waiting for you to get back. You lied about going to the bathroom, and before you could reveal your intentions to leave, Hoseok grabbed your hand.

“Come on, let’s teach them together,” he proposed with a sparkly smile.

You pulled your hand free. “I don’t feel like it. I’m sure you can find someone else here to do that.” You turned to Jin and Hyeonseo with a small smile. “I’m going home. I’m really tired.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin, who nodded. “Sure, we can all go—”

“No, I’ll go ahead. I already called a taxi.” You bit your tongue; since when did you lie so much? “You guys should enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”

You said your goodbyes quickly and were thankful Hyeonseo knew you well enough not to insist. She told you she’d text you the code to get inside the house, and you were on your way.

Growing up in Gwangju meant you knew exactly where the taxi street of the festival was, and you headed there without a second thought. Once there, you got in line — it was almost three am, so many people were already leaving.

Not even a minute later, you heard someone calling your name, and you turned, surprised. Hoseok was making his way to you in between people, and for a moment, your breath hitched. He looked dazzling in jeans and a leather jacket, his firm body framed perfectly. To think you were pressed to his firm chest, wrapped in those arms… 

You could almost forget he made you feel like an idiot. Almost.

You were ready to ignore him, but he reached you quickly, bowing to the other people waiting in line.

“I almost lost you,” he complained, clearing his throat, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. Seeing you remained skeptical, he continued, “I didn’t mean you were easy or something.” He scratched the back of his head. “When I said I do it all the time—”

“You just meant that you can teach anyone,” you interjected stoically, and he paused.

He dropped his hand as the queue moved forward. “Right. So then, why are you upset? It’s why you’re leaving, right?”

Your lips twitched. “I’m not upset. I was just reminded of why we never got along in the first place.”

He frowned. “Never? That’s not even true.”

You rolled your eyes as you became the first in line. “Whatever.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes the way he clenched his jaw and looked away before turning to you again. “Well, what is it? Maybe if we talked about it—”

“I don’t need to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I know everything I need to know.”

He huffed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other constantly as though his frustration was physical. “Doesn’t sound like you do,” he commented with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe if we talked you’d be able to form sound opinions instead of just assuming shit and acting like you know everything.”

Your eyes widened. “Assuming?! You literally just said it!”

“You’re making up whatever story in your head,” he insisted, eying you harshly. “You hear what you want to hear.”

You scoffed before you could help it. “Yeah, right!”

A taxi stopped in front of you right on time. You spun on your heels and got in, and Hoseok grabbed the door when you reached to close it.

Instantly, your eyes were locked in a mute argument. You even expected him to shut the door behind you, seeing as he was just as annoyed as you. Instead, he was preventing you from closing it.

“Miss?”

You couldn’t even turn to look at the driver; you couldn’t lose.

Hoseok stepped closer to the car and muttered, “Don’t be like this. Let me go with you.”

You gritted your teeth and seriously pondered kicking him in the shin and closing the door, leaving him there. It was only the thought of how Jin and Hyeonseo would have been disappointed that made you roll your eyes and swallow a grumble before letting go of the door and moving along in the backseat of the car.

You told the driver the address, and Hoseok rode in the taxi with you. Why was he even there? Surely not to make sure you made it safely. Although he might have promised that to Jin and Hyeonseo so they’d stay at the festival and enjoy themselves. He was likely just tired…but you’d be damned if you cared.

As soon as you entered Jin and Hyeonseo’s place, you stormed your way to the bedroom you were sharing. You changed clothes hastily, turned off the lights, and threw yourself over the bed diagonally, spreading the pillows around you and hugging a few. You’d be damned if you wouldn’t sleep properly tonight.

You couldn’t fall asleep. Hoseok entered the room not ten minutes later and you could feel the air thickening around you. By the time he hit your foot with his knee, the lights were back on and he was pissed.

“Move.”

You ignored him, and he bumped your foot with his knee multiple times. 

“Move, I want to sleep.”

“Not my problem,” you grumbled, and he scoffed.

“Indeed, but you’re mine. Get out of the way.”

“No,” you grumbled again, muffled. “I’m withdrawing the invitation; you can sleep somewhere else.”

You could almost hear the way he was fuming. “You’re fucking unbelieveable, you know that?! First, you get angry and don’t want to talk about it. Then, you withdraw your invitation? Fuck! I can trust you my ass! You’re so two-faced!”

By the time he was done, you were sitting up in bed, baffled and angry. “What?!”

He had no issues facing you head-on. “You heard me. You extend an olive branch one second and shit all over people the next. I’ve never met anyone as two-faced as you.”

“How fucking dare you!” you screeched as you kicked the sheets to get up from bed. “You’re the one who plays people, pretending to be all vulnerable and hurt, only to use them and throw them away like trash! Who the fuck are you to call me two-faced?!”

His anger was visible on his clenched jaw and flared nostrils as you shouted at him. He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You scoffed. “As if you don’t know.”

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I won’t know until you tell me! Stop assuming shit!”

“Stop playing dumb!”

“When did I?” he asked you to your face, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

Hoseok groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, you’re just like back then! The second I think I can trust you, you flip a switch and turn into someone else completely!”

“What?”

“Hyeonseo said I had you all wrong, that it was all a misunderstanding, but she’s wrong,” he told you, facing you head-on again. His eyes were harsh, and his tone accusatory. “This is just who you are. It’s bad enough our paths crossed twice; let’s not do it again.”

He grabbed his bag from the floor and stormed off with you hot on his tail.

“What are you talking about?!”

You chased him all the way downstairs, then stood frozen as he went outside to his pickup to get a blanket. When he started to make a makeshift place to sleep in the corner of the living room, you lost it.

“Argh, you’re fucking impossible!” you exploded, gripping your hair by the roots. “I flipped a switch?! I literally go to the bathroom, and the next thing I know, you’re kissing someone! Right after telling me you were so heartbroken you couldn’t stand the thought of being with someone! Are you serious?!”

He had taken off his jacket and thrown it on the blanket. He snickered. “Next thing you know? My, do you have selective amnesia or something?”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“You didn’t go to the bathroom, did you?”

You were stunned. “What?”

“I heard you!” he accused, all signs of mockery morphed into anger. “I followed you to suggest holding your drink, only to hear you giggling with your friends about how pathetic I was.”

You paled but instantly shook your head. “I never said that.”

“Your friends did, and you just laughed! Two-faced,” he underlined.

You gaped, frowning as you tried to remember what he was talking about. “I was— I don't know, I— Maybe they did say that, I don’t remember. But I wouldn’t have.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bristled. He was so sure of himself, but what did it matter?

“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t ‘flip a switch,’” you insisted. “They called you that, not me. So what does that have to do with what you did?”

“You thought I was so pathetic, and I just—” His expression soothed as his voice quieted. “I didn’t want to be.”

“You never were.”

He scoffed derisively, and you rubbed your eyes for a second, wanting to kick yourself.

“Listen, they just—even I, we were just…mean,” you explained with regret. You weren’t proud of who you were in high school. “Young and stupid and mean.”

Hoseok listened with harsh yet glistening eyes. “I opened my heart to you and you ran to tell them.”

“That is not true.”

You stiffened, and he instantly retorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t care what you heard, that is not true,” you stated resolutely. “I never told anyone a word of what you told me. I might not have refuted them when they called you that, I might have played along, but I’d never break your trust.”

He had a painful smile, holding back a snicker as you spoke, until he blew up, “Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“So you mean to tell me you went along with them and still never told them the things I told you when I believed we were friends.” You nodded, and he insisted, “You went along with them saying those things about me, but were still actually my friend.” You nodded again, and he threw his hands up in the air. “Does that even make sense?!”

“It’s the truth,” you repeated.

“Why would I believe you?”

Your breath hitched as you realized the answer to what he was asking. He was angry and maybe hurt; you could see it in his face. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. You were talking, actually talking, for the first time in years. But you never expected it would mean you’d have to tell him this.

But then again, it didn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.

You pressed your lips to hide a sad smile. “Because it’s the truth. Not just because you had told me things as friends that I would never repeat to someone else, but because I didn’t want them to look at you twice, I…had this big fat crush on you and didn’t want any of them to get any ideas.”

He wasn’t just stupefied, you could see in his wide eyes that his thought process was completely busted. “What??”

It made you blush and rub your eyes again before you blurted, “We became closer friends when you opened up about your ex, and I… I didn’t want to make a move because it would have been too soon, and I didn’t want to be a rebound, but I was hoping we could… I don’t know,” you sighed, looking away, embarrassed. “But then you invited me to prom, so I thought maybe you were over her, so I thought what the hell, why not? I was so excited that night, just waiting for the right moment to say something, but then I saw you kissing whoever that was and I just—I was fucking pissed ‘cause that wasn’t even a rejection, that was… Why invite me to prom if you wanted to be with someone else? It just—”

You stopped yourself, feeling the anger bubbling up in your chest once more. You rubbed your eyes and sighed, calming down. He looked befuddled; he probably didn’t remember any of it.

“I didn’t,” he blurted out, and you looked at him. “That girl, I… I didn’t want to be with her; I didn’t even like her. I was just pissed after hearing you and your friends saying I was pathetic for being heartbroken over my ex and…I felt betrayed. You were literally the only girl I trusted at the time, who I thought…Who I wanted to spend time with. And then you said those things and I just…I didn’t want to be pathetic,” he admitted, heaving a deep breath. “That girl caught me alone and confessed, and when she kissed me, I felt…validated. Like I was not worthless. Of course, I told her I didn’t feel the same way, and she was cool about it. Otherwise, I would have felt pretty shity about it.”

“You were never worthless, much less because you had feelings. I’m glad she made you feel good about yourself.” You looked down, a frown on your lips. She did what you couldn’t. “Regardless of what they said, you were never pathetic. They were allergic to vulnerability and needed to be bitches about it, that’s all. Hell, me too. I’m sorry about that.”

He nodded with his shiny eyes focused on you. “Even if I know now how you felt at the time…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do with all of this information.”

You shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything, it’s in the past. Though…about today,” you started, then heaved a deep breath as you rubbed your pink cheeks. “I’m not gonna lie, it felt just like back then. There I am, thinking something special is happening, only for you to dismiss it like it’s nothing. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” you mimicked his voice, and he groaned.

“No, I knew it was bullshit as soon as I said it,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Even Hyeonseo called me out for it.”

“‘Cause you realized it wasn’t that good to begin with, ‘cause I’m a terrible dancer?”

You spoke really fast, and he chuckled, “No, because it just isn’t true. The way we danced, especially when you’re not comfortable with it, is not easy. At all. Even seasoned dancers need months to be that smooth, sometimes even couples can’t do it, and you just— No, that was all us. I don’t do that all the time, it’s not something easy to teach.”

You frowned. “Dancing?”

“Chemistry.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him. You couldn’t help the confusion or the way your heart raced. “I thought…” you croaked, “it wasn’t real.”

His eyes were locked with yours. “I think we can agree that it is.”

Your breath deepened as a familiar burn climbed up your chest. The air was thickening again as you stared at each other, but you stayed in place. Even if you both agreed that there was chemistry between you, you weren’t sure what to do with it. You weren’t sure you wanted to follow through…or that he did.

When he stalked slowly in your direction, you stood at attention. Your skin tingled under his eyes, roaming over your legs, past your pajama shorts and t-shirt to your eyes. By then, he was already in front of you, less than an arm away, and you struggled. You were almost dizzy with want, pushing your nails into your palms to hold yourself back. When he took another step closer, the faint scent of his cologne made you sigh and look up. You were radiating heat at that point, keeping your desire in check while wanting nothing but for him to grab you.

He seemed to be waiting for something, so you closed the distance between your bodies. Your stomach pressed to his, and your curiosity got the best of you. You looked down, wondering if you’d get to feel—

His hand raised your chin to make you look up at him. Instantly, the fire you were trying to contain reared its ugly head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching it as though you were containing a visceral need to pull it off, all while you looked into his eyes. Your core ached for something to clench around and you almost begged him to fuck that crisp tension out of you.

Your lips parted as he leaned in, covering you with a shudder as his free hand palmed your waist, pulling you to him by the arch of your back. But then, all too fast, you both blinked.

The sound of car doors slamming closed hit you, and time didn’t stop to let you two figure it out together. Instead, Hoseok’s eyes flickered to your lips, but you weren’t able to say anything. By the time the first key was pressed into the front door lock pad, he had already lowered his hands and released you. 

You couldn’t protest because in a second, Jin was opening the front door with Hyeonseo not far behind him.

“Oh, hey guys,” Jin said with a smile, then closed the door behind his fiancée. “We thought you’d be sleeping already.”

“Is everything okay?” Hyeonseo asked, eying you as she took off her jacket. 

“Yes,” you croaked.

“We were just heading to bed,” Hoseok told them, then gave you a fleeting look before going ahead. “Good night!”

You offered Hyeonseo a small smile to reassure her and waved at Jin before following Hoseok upstairs. You closed the bedroom door behind you, and seeing the mess of pillows and sheets you had left behind, you were a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you muttered, getting on the bed to align the pillows and pull the sheet to lie stretched and proper. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just pissed.”

For a second, he frowned, but then he seemed to remember. “If you want me to sleep downstairs—”

“I don’t,” you cut in, sitting on your side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have… assumed the worst.”

“That I’m two-faced?”

He hummed as he neared the bed. 

“So you…also assume things?”

Your tease made him chuckle. “I guess I’m at fault, too.”

You smiled and got under the sheet comfortably. Only then did you notice he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

“I left my bag downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, imagining Hyeonseo’s questions if she saw Hoseok with his bag. “And you don’t want to go grab it?”

“Not really.”

He stepped out of his shoes, then sighed, putting one knee on the bed, and you stopped him. “Get them off.”

He raised an eyebrow, and you looked at his jeans.

“You shouldn’t get in bed with outside clothes.”

He looked down at your legs under the sheets, then back at you, and you simply held his gaze. Now that you had found common ground, you were confident that teasing him a little wouldn’t hurt.

It helped that Hoseok was precisely the kind of man who made your knees weak. You asked, and so he got rid of his jeans in a flash, casually tossing them and his t-shirt back before getting into bed with you just in boxers. As if his chiseled abs wouldn’t have you drooling. As if he weren’t half-hard. As if he didn’t know you’d eat him with your eyes. As if he didn’t want you to.

You both lay back on your pillows, and your eyelids became heavy. The light was still on, but you were comfortable and warm, and all of a sudden, it was hard to keep your eyes open. You still wanted Hoseok, but you were so tired, you were getting dizzy.

You felt his eyes on you and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “I’m really tired,” you confessed, and he nodded.

“Same, I’m hanging on by a thread.”

You smiled and licked your lips. “Can I…?”

“Hug me to sleep?” 

He raised an eyebrow and your eyes widened as you gasped. Did he know about last night?!

He simply smirked. “Yeah, come here. Oh, wait,” he told you before reaching the light switch on the wall. Then he settled back and grabbed your hand over the sheet, pulling you closer. You snuggled up to him, then sighed comfortably, and he held you close.

You woke up snuggly and warm, with a citrusy perfume near your nose and your legs tangled with someone else’s. You didn’t question it, stretching lazily before pulling away slightly. You slept like a rock, but still felt the exhaustion from the previous day. Just thinking you had another day like it ahead of you made you groan under your breath.

Hoseok turned around to face you, and it made you blink a bit more awake. He looked raw and vulnerable, with his hair disheveled and eyes barely open. Instantly, it made you feel a little breathless, a little hot, and a little exposed.

“Hey,” he whispered, and your cheeks warmed.

“Hey,” you rasped back, covering your face with your hands. “I must look horrible.”

He chuckled. “You look the same as always.”

You peeked between your fingers. “So I always look terrible?”

He was caught off guard and laughed quietly. “No, you never do.”

You lowered your hands and stayed like that, just observing one another, until you asked quietly. “We were friends… How come you never told me about your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talked about the divorce, your sister, your mom, your ex… but not about your dad.”

He looked down for a moment before answering, “I just… didn’t want to talk about him. Our relationship was always…complicated. He left my mom, and then he would insist on taking me to construction sites for long weekends and vacations so I could learn the trade. He refused to listen to what I wanted. Meanwhile, my mom worked two jobs to support my dreams of becoming a dancer. She pushed me to go to Seoul and supported me while my dad all but threatened to disown me if I followed my dreams.” His expression hinted at bitterness before he looked at you again. “You can imagine I didn’t want to talk about him.”

You nodded. “And now?”

“He’s changed,” Hoseok acknowledged softly. “I think he accepted that it’s up to me to do what I want to do and that I’m good enough to do it. So we’re okay now. I see him a couple of times a year.” You nodded, and he quieted. “What about you? I remember your mom was sick five years ago.”

“She was, she’s been in remission for three years. My parents moved to Jeju Island to have a peaceful life there, and I’m hoping that will help.”

“You must miss them.”

“I do… Feels like everyone is super far away now.”

“But as it turns out, we live in the same neighbourhood,” he reminded you, and you raised a corner of your mouth.

“So it seems.”

“You can call me, you know,” he offered. “If you need anything.”

Your face was warm. “Thank you.”

“You can also call me just… Just because. If you want to.”

You weren’t used to seeing Hoseok hesitate, and yet, somehow, it made you relax. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he asked, as though he couldn’t believe your answer, and you grinned.

“Maybe,” you teased, and he smirked. You felt warm again, seeing that smile, but also incredibly at ease.

His eyes returned to yours with a sharper edge to them, and you were instantly stirred up.

“You had a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes roamed your features for a brief moment. “I wish the timing were different.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I was not the greatest person back then.”

“And now?” He raised an eyebrow, and you chuckled.

“Still a work in progress.”

He nodded, smiling too. “I wasn't great back then either. I was insecure. Thought my world was ending when my ex left, and that I had to be in a relationship to mean something.”

You nodded slowly. “Was that why you dated so many people afterwards?”

“It’s also the way people act. I don’t know about you, but my friends are constantly dating someone.”

You shrugged. “If you call that dating. I don’t get the obsession with saying you’re dating when you know it’s going to last a couple of weeks tops.”

“It has to be serious enough to avoid a stigma, but not serious enough ‘cause a relationship takes too much work.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, exactly. Well said!”

“Thanks. It’s my conclusion after years of therapy to process how my parents’ divorce made me link my self-worth to my relationship status.”

Your chin dropped. “Woah!”

He smiled. “Once I realized I was following a pattern, I thought therapy would help. I had internalized that being alone meant I was less, without realizing that I didn’t even want to be with some of those people. I just said yes so I wouldn’t be alone.”

You pressed your lips. “And now?”

“I’ve been single for two years, and it’s nice.” He smiled, stretching a bit before asking, “And you?”

“I haven’t really thought much about dating,” you admitted, shrugging. “I’ve been developing my business for a year, and it takes most of my time.”

“That makes sense,” he said, adjusting the pillow under his head.

“Some pillow talk we’re having,” you joked, and he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, did I make things weird?”

“No, not at all. It reminds me of when we were friends.”

You remembered all the breaks you would spend just the two of you talking at the back of the school or in some park.

“Maybe that’s why it's so easy to talk to you,” he mused, observing your expression.

“You mean you don’t talk about this with every girl you get in bed?”

“No,” he stated, then joined you in laughing quietly. “Also, you got me in bed.”

“That’s true. Had to take charge,” you confessed with mock modesty. “Now, I have you right where I want you.”

“Do you?”

Your smile dissipated when you realized what you had said and how he was looking at you. Instantly, heat spread from your cheeks down your neck, and you had to swallow. “I—I mean, not that I’d force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You mean besides forcing me to strip before getting into bed?”

You almost choked. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” He smiled, and his hand moved near yours over the sheet, but he didn’t touch you. “If last night was an isolated thing, that’s okay. It’s cool, I promise.”

You instantly remembered the way his hand pressed you, arching your back and hitching your breath. “It wasn’t…I mean, it wasn’t alcohol or anything like that,” you said, your voice more and more quiet as the tension spread down your neck. “If anything, it feels like whenever we’re together, we…”

“Have chemistry?”

You hummed.

“Was it like this in high school? And I was just blind to it?” he asked in disbelief.

“It wasn’t like this… Wanting to kiss you and wanting you are two different things,” you explained, despite feeling like you were dipping into dangerous waters.

“So you want me?” he asked, and you felt almost assaulted by his dark, meaningful eyes. Your core clenched around nothing at the thought of being under this man. The way he turned you on was wild.

“I do…” As soon as the admission was out of your lips, he moved closer, and you had to put your hands on his chest to stop him. “But we’re not alone.”

Your tone was firm, more to tame your desires than to stop him, but he still halted. He was close enough that you could see the moles on his face, but he had yet to touch you. 

He eyed you intently. “And if we were?”

“We’re not…”

“But if we were?” he insisted. 

You swallowed, rubbing your legs together. “I already told you I want you.”

His lips curved in a tease. “I want to hear what else you want.”

You raised your chin. “You haven’t told me what you want yet.”

“I’ll tell you, then,” he whispered, making you shudder from head to toe. He got up on his elbow, and you rolled to face up. “I want to look at you. I want you to take your clothes off for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “If only you had asked before…”

“I still can.”

You hummed, unashamedly running your eyes down his exposed torso. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders, but every piece of him was defined and soft, like a taunt for you to scratch and bite. It was torture to see all that flesh but not touch it.

“I want you to touch me,” he spoke again, drawing your gaze up. “I want you to touch me and grab me with the same hunger you have in your eyes right now.”

You let out a small, tense breath as you eyed his chest again, unabashedly taking advantage. “And then?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

You chuckled. “I might need ideas to spice up my shower.”

He groaned mutely, then gently tucked the sheet to frame your silhouette without touching you. It made your body temperature surge as you let him find his way to seeing your form without stripping you. The more he observed and wondered, the more sensual and wanted you felt. You didn’t know if you wanted to rub your legs together or spread them open for him.

“I want to touch you,” he breathed, then looked at you. “Lick and feel every curve until I know you by heart. I want to eat you out. I want to know how you taste, wet like that for me.”

Your eyebrow quirked, but you stayed quiet, letting his words burn you a bit more intensely than his presence alone did.

“I want your hips on me again. Need to appreciate the way they match mine.” His eyes caught you opening your legs under the sheets, but you didn’t close them. “And I want to fuck you. I can’t hide it,” he whispered, adjusting his posture as though he was eager to get in between your legs, if only you let him. “I need to know what you look like when I fuck all sense out of you.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” you breathed, sneaking your hands down your stomach.

“You—”

A bang interrupted him and covered you with goosebumps from head to toe.

Neither of you breathed as you waited patiently for the sound of a car engine to roar to life, and then for it to move away from the driveway.

Your eyes were locked, both surely thinking the exact same thing — Jin and Hyeonseo were likely gone to grab breakfast. You were alone.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his muscles flexing as he stayed in place.

“You.”

“Don’t just say that,” he scolded lightly, adjusting himself on his knees.

“It’s what I want,” you insisted, more than aching for him. “I want everything you said.” You leaned in a bit. “Make me scream your name.”

He ripped the sheet from over you and froze. You bit your lip but couldn’t find it in you to look innocent. Not when your hand was buried in your sex.

“I can’t believe you,” he breathed before throwing the sheet to the end of the bed.

“You never said I couldn’t,” you argued, giving up on solo pleasure when you could have him. 

He caught your wrist as he settled between your legs. “I said I want you.”

“And I want you, too. Hey,” you called, letting your voice register lower. “I’d let you watch.”

He shook his head and forced your wrist to the mattress next to your head as he covered your body with his to reach your lips. His mouth wasn’t soft at the dawn of a first kiss; it was rough and helpless with want. Your free hand instantly gripped his hair, keeping him close as your bodies adjusted to each other, and in a second, your world was overturned.

He didn’t just take two seconds to push his tongue inside you; he took two seconds to melt you to a liquid state. In a split second, he was kissing you like he owned you, matching every whimper and sigh with more. If you needed to breathe, he bit your lip. If you needed to moan, he swallowed it. 

He wasn’t shy about pressing his cock to your thigh, nor about palming your curves as he said he would. You could only shudder and whimper with the way he touched and squeezed you, especially when he grabbed your ass. He even parted your mouths to hide in the crook of your neck and have both hands free to squeeze your asscheeks, pressing you to him.

You had to moan, swiveling your hips to get friction.

“You and your perfect ass,” he grumbled, giving it a few more squeezes. “On the ladder, the stairs, last night… Fucking tease.”

“Didn’t know you were staring,” you breathed, and he raised his head.

“Didn’t you?”

“No. No, trust me.” You smiled, gyrating your hips as you cradled his cheeks. “Or I would have made it much worse.”

He let his mouth crash to yours harshly before pulling away. “You fucking tease… I’ll take my time with you—”

“No,” you cut in, holding his head so he’d look at you. “We don’t know how long we have.” You could see Hoseok’s gears turning, so you insisted, “You have to fuck me. I need to feel you. I need you to fuck this tension out of me.” He groaned, and you didn’t give up. “Need you to make me scream your name while creaming your cock. It will be therapeutic,” you promised, earning a smirk. “Please.”

It took Hoseok one second to ponder your request. The next, he was already on his knees.

“Take them off.”

“What?” 

“Take them off,” he repeated, glancing at your shorts. His hands dipped inside his boxers to stroke himself, and you almost melted at the sight.

Instead, you swallowed. “We don't have much time.”

“Get your clothes off before I rip them off.”

Heat flushed through you as you gushed between your legs, and you scrambled to as he asked. Normally, you’d like that moment to be sensual, but all you could think of was Hoseok between your legs.

He clearly was thinking of that too, because as you got rid of your pajama t-shirt and shorts and underwear, he kept stroking himself in front of you. He wasn’t shy about grunting, licking his lips, cursing, or spreading the precum on the tip of his dick right under your hungry eyes. Especially when you leaned back down and spread your legs for him.

“Holy shit,” he almost choked, falling to his elbows on the bed right before pressing his face to your wet cunt.

Your moan echoed in the empty room as you clenched from the surprise. Your hands gripped his hair firmly, and you cursed yourself, bucking your hips against his starving mouth. You watched him eating you out, groaning into you as he drooled all over your slicked folds. That was such a power trip for some reason. Like you knew you were his kryptonite, like you knew he should have been fucking for years, like you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you as soon as he tasted you.

But the past didn’t matter; you need him now.

“Fuck, Hoseok, wait,” you breathed between moans, finding it hard to not press his face to your sopping pussy.

He hummed, and you tried sorting out your thoughts.

“We don’t know how long we have,” you reminded him, cursing him when his tongue started drumming on your clit. “Fuck! You either fuck me now, or—!”

You keened desperately when three digits pushed through your warm walls, stretching you with a few pumps. Looking at him, his eyes were almost wicked as he saw you trying not to writhe in pleasure.

“So bossy…” he commented, licking his lips. “Lucky we’re in a hurry.”

You whimpered and curled your toes with the way he fucked you with his fingers, but stayed otherwise quiet because he grabbed his hard cock in his other hand.

“It’s a shame, really,” you breathed, and he surely thought you were teasing him, because he quickly leaned in to nip a nipple, making you jolt. “I also didn’t get to touch you and grab you.”

“Can still make it happen,” he told you, sitting back between your legs with his cock still in his hand.

You smiled. “That sounds good,” you breathed, reaching out to meet his busy hand. 

While he looked down at your hand taking over from his, stroking him gently, you observed his reactions. The way his eyes hooded, or his lip raised, containing a moan when you squeezed a little more. He enjoyed watching what you were doing, and you enjoyed watching him. Even when his fingers inside you lost focus, you were set on that one goal — to see him fall apart.

“So hard,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Come on,” you coaxed, slowly pulling him by his dick to close the gap between you.

He followed your lead, removing his fingers from your sopping pussy to replace them with the tip of his cock. He moaned quietly then, as he rubbed his shaft on your slick, hungrily passing a heavy hand up your stomach to your chest. He pinched a nipple just to tease you, then pressed the head of his cock through your entrance.

You couldn’t even catch your breath, whimpering uninterruptedly as your core hugged the head of his cock. You cursed him, feeling your legs trembling as you spread them as much as you could. Your core throbbed wildly with the stretch, and you thought that was the peak for you, but then he topped it off with his fingers on your clit.

You finally let go and arched your back, so completely overturned by pleasure, you felt like you were in a tempestuous sea. You couldn’t suppress your moans, hold back the way you gripped the sheets or moved to sink further down his cock. Instead, you mumbled incoherently, begging him to poke your insides, but he smiled and kept fucking you exactly like this.

“I don’t know,” he taunted, but you could see the sweat trickling down his temple as he held back. “I think you can cum just with the tip.”

“Fuck, I can— But I want you whole— I didn’t say make me cum,” you pointed out a bit more firmly than your previous moans. “I said, make me scream your name.”

He growled your name, then gripped your hips and fell over you, sinking as far inside you as he could, bottoming out with a groan. You could only scream and throw your head back, letting the pain mix with the delight of having him tucked to the base inside you. It was so good, your nails were piercing the sheets as you clenched like a vice around him.

Looking at him, you knew you had a victorious look on your face. He smirked. “Got what you wanted all along, huh?”

“Not yet,” you breathed, then locked your legs behind him. “Fuck me, Hoseok. Please—”

He grabbed your legs further up around his waist, then finally gave in and gave you exactly what you wanted. Everything heightened your senses so much that you were speechless, finally rid of all your thoughts and judgments. The way he breathed heavily into your neck, stealing nips and licks while hearing you moan attentively. The way he gripped your asscheeks to fuck you as deeply as possible, groaning mutely against your skin. He wanted you, craved you, just like you craved him. The slap of skins, the sloppy mess between your bodies, the citrus cologne as you bit his shoulder — that was what dreams were made of. 

You knew you wouldn’t hold for long, but you didn’t expect to last minutes. You were in the zone, matching your hips to his, when he bit your neck hard. Your hands instantly darted to grab him, your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders, but still, he didn’t release you. Instead, he rutted into you like he needed to fuck you. Like he was in too deep to stop. Like he knew you needed to take his cock just once more before you’d fall apart.

You wanted to scream his name, and it was the first thing out of your mouth as soon as the wildfire spread through you in waves. You were surprised when his hand darted to cover your mouth, but he didn’t stop pounding into you, and so if anything, you came even harder. His mouth replaced his hand once you became breathless, gently kissing you and coaxing the last quakes out of you, until you stilled.

Your senses returned to you slowly, and two things were immediately clear to you: one, Hoseok was still hard as fuck inside you, and two, you were no longer alone.

“Fuckin hell,” he cursed, moving ever so gently inside you, and your hands darted to his asscheeks to stop him.

“They’re here?!” you whispered, suddenly so anxious your chest felt tight. You could hear faint noises from downstairs.

“You didn’t hear them coming in?” he asked, surprised. You were clearly spooked, so he reassured you, brushing your cheek gently, “The door slammed like seconds into your orgasm. I didn’t want to ruin it for you, so I didn’t stop.”

You gasped. “What if they heard?!”

“They didn’t.” You gave him a look, and he kept reassuring you, “They didn’t. I covered your mouth, I promise you they didn’t hear a thing.” You heaved a breath, hugging him, and he nuzzled your hair. “But I did… you sounded so fucking hot, I almost burst. Fuckin hell,” he groaned, moving once tentatively inside you. “Fuckin heaven, rather,” he corrected himself, then pulled away to look at you. “But I know you’ll want to stop—”

Your hands darted to his ass again, this time to prevent him from pulling out, at the same time your phone buzzed on the floor next to the bed. You didn’t even glance away; your eyes locked with his as they were. You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t explain.

“What?” he asked, eying you curiously.

Your phone buzzed again, and you whispered, “If they can’t hear it…”

Your voice trailed off as you bit your lip, and he chuckled darkly, leaning back in to nuzzle you. “Then what?”

“Then why stop?”

He laughed a bit more, quietly dragging his nose down your neck. “You naughty girl… I love that idea,” he whispered, withdrawing his hips for a moment before sinking into you again.

You had to curl your toes and bite your lip, but suddenly, you were exhilarated. You felt dirty, but it was so good to have him fucking you slowly while you tried your best not to make a sound. Your eyes stayed locked, spreading a hellish fire down your chest because he saw you. He saw you taking his cock, fighting the urge to moan and let the world know how good he felt. He knew how turned on you were from fucking under people’s noses like this. And all it did was make him fuck you harder, wanting to spill all his cum inside a little whore like you—

You could swear a second orgasm was right within your grasp when you heard voices talking loudly downstairs. Hoseok halted this time, looking at you while he listened attentively. Then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t ignore it. 

Hoseok almost slipped out of you as you contorted yourself to reach the bloody thing on the floor. Then you gasped.

Hyeonseo had texted you multiple times: 

[Are you okay?] 2:43

[Are you hungover? I can make soup.] 9:12

[We got breakfast.] 9:39

[You can come down.] 10:01

[Are you okay? You’re still not up yet.] 10:03

You heard steps on the stairs and hurried to type:

[I’m fine, gonna shower first. Hoseok is still asleep.] 10:04

You looked at him with eyes like saucers, and he didn’t react. He stayed still, listening to Hyeonseo turning back down the stairs and telling Jin something.

“I told her I’d shower first and that you’re still asleep,” you informed him, rubbing your eyes. What the hell were you thinking?

“Okay, good,” he breathed, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

His hips instantly moved again, slowly but breathtakingly, and you knitted your eyebrows to keep quiet. You grabbed onto him while he fucked you, snapping his hips to yours with such precision, you started seeing stars. You were so turned on, the sloppy, gushing sounds where your bodies met thrilled you even more.

“I wonder if she had called you,” he whispered before licking up the column of your neck to reach your ear. “Wonder how you would have reacted, trying to talk to her while I fuck you like this.”

You licked your lips, eyes closed, shuddering from head to toe at the thought. “Maybe next time,” you said, though your voice broke apart.

Hoseok smiled at you and pressed his lips to yours firmly, halting his thrusts completely. You sighed into the kiss, imagining he’d continue, but he pulled out and away, getting up from bed.

You sulked instantly. Usually, you were very uptight about your privacy and behavior, but right now, you wanted to finish what you both had started.

You were about to open your mouth when Hoseok said, “Let’s get you in the shower.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

He was already back in his boxers, his hand out for you to grab. “Don’t argue with me.”

You sulked further. You thought he was done, and it soured your mood.

So you put your hand in his and let him pull you up to your feet with a huge pout. It just didn’t feel right to—

Hoseok stole a kiss from you, then grabbed a folded towel nearby and wrapped it around you, making you raise an eyebrow while he smirked. “Stay quiet.”

You tucked the towel more firmly around you as he led you out of the room. Once out, you could hear Jin and Hyeonseo cooking while music played in the background, likely from one of their phones.

Hoseok pulled you by the hand to the bathroom and, to your surprise, closed and locked the door behind him. Then, he gently pushed you into the walk-in shower. You stumbled back, eyes fixed on his, wondering what he was up to.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your towel and maneuvered you against the sidewall of the shower. Your back hit the cold tiles while he caged you in, making your knees weak in anticipation. All he had to do was stretch his arm and start the shower, and you were both unleashed.

You gasped as the water spray barely caught your leg, but you had no time to think about it because he kissed you. You dared to breathe more heavily and even to whimper when he pulled your towel loose, his hands instantly grabbing your tits to pinch your nipples. He swallowed your cries, ever so mindful, and it made you gush even more. This was a man who wanted to be with you, was willing to be risqué, but still took your limits as a priority. You just wanted him even more.

As his hands trailed your sides, his mouth followed, licking every inch of skin within reach. It made you close your eyes as you leaned back against the wall, letting every touch send shivers down your spine. He kneeled in front of you, licking and nibbling, then he looked up at you before reaching your sex. Made you clench right in front of him before his lips ever touched yours. You even blushed at how much you wanted him to do crazy things to you.

As though he had heard your thoughts, he smirked and tilted your body to show him your side. Instantly, he bit your round hip, making you bite your own fist not to make a sound. The pain mixed with a pleasurable sting stunned you so much that you were nimble in his hands as he turned you around. Then, he spread your legs and asscheeks, pulling you to him, and in a second, your moan echoed in the bathroom.

He pulled his mouth away from your dripping folds. “You have to be quiet,” he warned you, and you nodded, covering your mouth as he dove in again.

His mouth on your slit was something sinful. The way he grabbed your hips to fall back on his face, and the way your hips urged you to follow, was demented. You could barely spare a thought for how important it was to keep your mouth shut. 

He must have realized it, because soon after, he got up behind you, covering your arched back with his chest to reach your ear. “Something for next time,” he suggested, biting your earlobe. “Want you to touch yourself at the same time and come, but I think you’ll be too loud.”

You could only catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he cooed, turning your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “Don’t say sorry. I like the thought of doing this again.”

You looked at him, blushing even more if that was possible, while he just smiled at you. 

Then, you felt his fingers gently rubbing your clit. “Can I?”

You nodded instantly, kissing him to stifle your whimpers as he kept caressing you. You were dazed, at the mercy of his wishes, and when he pressed the tip of his cock to your core, you easily groaned in bliss.

You pressed your hips flush to his, making him take a deep breath near your ear as you appreciated being full again.

“Fuckin heaven,” he muttured to your ear before grabbing your hips.

For a second, you thought you’d lose all sense of reason, but you were sensible enough to put your hand on the wall and press your mouth to it as Hoseok slammed his cock into you again and again. At times, you pressed your forehead instead, but the way he pushed inside you made it almost impossible to hold back your cries. It was everything, both in its entirety and in the details. The way he was holding his breath while pouding into you as though your cunt was the best he had ever fucked. Or maybe the way he grabbed you, muttering how your ass was perfect and your wet pussy was heaven. And then, perhaps it was the way he tried not to cum, pressing you flat to the wall as he kissed your face. As he made it personal by making you cream his cock thoroughly as he slowed his thrusts.

“Can you cum again?” he almost groaned, swiveling his hips.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“How?”

“Fingers.”

He licked and nipped down your neck, and you weren’t sure he heard you. But surely enough, his fingers found your clit and rubbed in circles.

“Good?”

“Up and down,” you stammered as you shuddered, your nails looking for something on the wall to hold onto, but there was nothing.

As soon as his hand moved as you requested, you tensed from head to toe.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind you, pushing himself even further inside you. He was so deep, you could feel him in your throat. “You feel so good,” he grunted. “Close? I won’t last long.”

“Just—” You could barely breathe. You let your head fall back to his shoulder. “Just undo me.”

He kissed your neck before supporting himself on the wall with his free hand, and the way he moved was just different. He wasn’t trying to fuck you as quick and hard as possible, it was something else. His fingers were attentive to move as you had asked, bringing you so close with a simple rub that your toes were curling. But it was also the way he covered you like a cape, moved his hips with you to deepen the feeling, making you constantly feel like all you breathed, tasted, and felt was him. To the point that all you needed was a little push, so you moved closer to the wall, exposing your neck while you tried to grab his hand taking support there. 

He didn’t get it at first, thinking you wanted him to cover your mouth for your orgasm. So you had to pull on his hand until you tucked it snugly around your throat, and then he got it. He pressed you by the neck to him, and you were finally tucked in. Exposed and vulnerable, while safe and thoroughly fucked.

In that position and with his hands all over you, you didn’t need much to cum. The fire building between your legs was uncontrollable, and the way he poked your insides, bliss. A few thrusts deep inside you, making you moan desperately, and you unravelled. You had a mind to cover your mouth to stifle the cries, greedily meeting him thrust for thrust to make the climax last as much as possible.

Because of this, you almost prevented him from pulling out. He had to hold your waist so you wouldn’t fall back on his dick, making him cum inside you. You looked at him as you felt him cumming over your ass and in your fucked out daze, you thought he was wonderful. Just very fucking wonderful as he groaned and shuddered, spurting ropes of cum on your skin.

When he opened his eyes to meet yours, you smiled, and he kissed you. Not once, not twice, just so many gentle kisses, you forgot about the world.

“Are you okay?” he asked the moment he pulled away to look at you.

“Perfect, you?”

He chuckled and brushed your cheek. “You could say that.”

You wouldn’t complain about having his lips on yours again, but you still gasped when you felt the water touch your arm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, you knew the shower was running next to you, but still. You were too much in your daze.

“Shower, remember?” he whispered, and you sighed, shifting to stand under the stream fully. You wiped the water out of your eyes as he turned you around, stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you after?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, and stood there as you watched him leave the bathroom.

You weren’t exactly sure how, but you were just getting started. You were just with him, and all you could think about was being with him again. This time, in your apartment, with nothing but neighbours whom you didn’t give a shit about to feel inconvenienced by you fucking him without restrictions. All day, all night, until you got that horny bug out of you. If ever.

“Okay, but won’t you listen to me?” you asked Jin with a huff as you dragged your luggage outside.

“How about you come and do that some other weekend? Before the wedding, preferably,” Jin suggested, and you shook your head in disbelief.

Yet before you could say anything, Hoseok tapped your shoulder. “May I?”

You looked at him, and he tapped you again. “Oh, right,” you agreed, giving him your backpack, which he proceeded to load into his pickup along with your luggage. You turned back to Jin. “It’s unlikely that I will be able to.”

“And if Hobi does it?” Hyeonseo suggested, coming outside with a few snacks for you to take on your trip back.

“I might not have the time, so listen to her,” Hoseok shouted from his pickup, and Jin sighed.

Once more, you thoroughly explained how to apply the finish on the stairs; only the most essential step. “Do it as soon as you can before stepping on it damages the surface. I’d say as soon as you get your couch tomorrow. It takes a few days, but then you have beautiful stairs for a lifetime.”

Jin mumbled something you didn’t get, and Hyeonseo patted his shoulder. “We’ll do it, don’t worry. That’s all that’s left, right?”

“Yup, the closets are done. The stairs almost,” you said with a bit of a grimace. “The doors…”

“Sanded, you guys can paint them tomorrow,” Hoseok said, joining you. “All the lights, the stove, and the ceilings are done. Now you can paint what is left, you will be done tomorrow for sure.”

“Did you add the silicone sealant in the shower downstairs?” you asked, remembering suddenly, and he nodded.

“Yup, all done.”

Hyeonseo had tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much, guys, you’ve done so much for us!”

“Now, make sure to take care of the place,” Hoseok teased Jin with a look.

“Maybe we’ll invite you over once a year. Just to catch up,” Jin suggested angelically, and Hyeonseo elbowed him. Everyone chuckled. “You two seem to be getting along much better now,” Jin noted, scratching his chin. “So tell me: did Hobi ever promise not to bite you?”

“Jin!” Hyeonseo gasped.

“It does help to settle boundaries from the start.”

They started bickering, and you subtly closed your jacket lapels a bit more. You weren’t sure that was an innocent comment, given that you had a few marks around your neck.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hyeonseo sighed, then turned to you and Hoseok again. “You sure it’s okay to take her to the bus station?”

“Of course! Not a problem at all,” Hoseok reassured her with a smile. “Should we get going? I still plan on returning to Seoul tonight.”

You nodded and hugged Hyeonseo. “Thank you for dinner and for everything. See you soon!”

You also hugged Jin, ignoring his quips, then made your way to Hoseok’s pickup. You sat shotgun and instantly let it sink in: Hyeonseo and Jin were waving at you as Hoseok got into the driver's seat next to you. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat all so easily. You, sitting there, pretending you tolerated a man you not only had balls deep inside you earlier this morning, but intended to have again as soon as possible.

“You good?” he asked as he prepared everything, including the temperature, GPS, and music. You nodded, ready, and he glanced at you. “You know, we live in the same neighbourhood in Seoul. If you want, I can take you. I just have to drop off the pickup at my dad’s and get my car.” You stayed quiet as he buckled his seatbelt. Then, he looked at you. “If you’re comfortable.”

“You want to be with me inside a car for three hours?”

You raised an eyebrow teasingly, and he chuckled. “Actually, close to four with the detour. But there are worse things. I enjoy the company.”

You nodded and waved again at the couple while Hoseok drove you out of the driveway and away.

At the house, Hyeonseo and Jin waved until your car disappeared.

Then Hyeonseo asked, “Did we succeed?”

Jin nodded. “Yes, we did!”

Hyeonseo raised her hand, and Jin instantly high-fived her. “Mission accomplished.”

[spxllcxstxr]

Dragonrider • J.V

(Gif not mine)

Request: could i get a fic with Jacaerys where the reader claims cannibal as her dragon 💋 — anon

Summary: Jacaerys catches you claiming the Cannibal

Warnings: gn!reader (no pronouns used so if you see any lmk), dragonseed!reader, no mention of parentage just silver hair, blood and death mention, kinda pre-relationship like an enemies to lovers but I’m focusing on the enemies part y’know what I mean? Not a lot of Jace interaction but oh whale

Word Count: 1.2k (this wasn't supposed to be this long LMAO)

A.N: i actually really like this, i'm not gunna lie...lemme know what you think! Won't do a part two to this though, it was hard enough to write lmao

•

The dreams started when you were a child. Green eyes pierced the blackness of your eyelids making you wake up in cold sweats. In the mornings you would chalk it up to the sweltering heat of King's Landing, but you knew those green eyes were the cause of your unease.

It wasn't until you were deep in the bowels of the dragonpit in Dragonstone years later you would realize what those dreams meant.

Death.

Like lambs to slaughter or whores from the Street of Silk, Queen Rhaenyra offered countless silver haired bastards to her dragons. She plucked you all out of King's Landing in order to place you back in another hopeless situation.

Her theory, you gathered from her somber explanation hours before, was that the numerous bastards of the Targaryen bloodline would be able to claim a dragon. She dare not say it, of course, but since her bastard children could ride, why not all the others? It was insanity.

But it beat starving to death in the capital, you figured.

You shiver beneath your thin rags, the damp chill of the dragonpit surrounding you.

In almost a blink of an eye fire and blood surrounded you; the dragon they had brought up rampaged through the cave, lighting every little thing in sight ablaze.

As smoke fills your lungs you run as fast as you can, dipping behind rocks and ignoring the piercing screams of the other Targaryen bastards around you.

Whether this mass murder was intentional or not, you were determined to get out of the wretched cavern alive.

You walk through the cavern for what feels like ages, exhaustion weighing you down. Eventually, you see a glimpse of light from between the rocks. It's open enough just for you to scrape through, and when you do, the tension releases from your body almost all at once.

The intense rays of sunlight causes you to wince but the fresh air soothes your pain. In the distance the waves of the ocean crash against the sand and stones of the shoreline. With your joints throbbing, you limp through the grass, mind reeling with possibilities.

You were stranded on this damned rock.

Feet aching from running, you continue forward, desperate to stay alive and find someone--anyone--who could help you.

A black mass forms in front of you, smoke curling around its head.

A dragon.

It lays stationary in front of you, the green eyes from your dream watching you intensely. Fear strikes you; down your spine and deep within your core. Holding your breath you try to figure out a way around this, but the dragon almost wants you to come closer.

It's emerald eyes are hypnotic and you find yourself inching closer and closer. Your mind is screaming at you to run, to turn back now before it's too late, before you become another casualty of the Queen's insane idea.

But you find that you can't.

Closer to the dragon, you reach your arm out to touch it, green eyes never leaving your own.

A shout sounds from behind you causing your hair to stand on end. Before you had wished for someone to find you but now it seemed like the dragon in front of you was to be your savior from the very beginning.

Your arm freezes between you and the dragon right in front of you at the voice. The green eyes that were piercing into your own just moments before now settle above your shoulder at the intruder behind you. Smoke curls from the black mass in front of you.

Sweat dots your forehead. You were so close.

Close enough that the stench of rot and blood is thick in the air, though after living your entire life in the depths of King’s Landing it almost doesn’t bother you. Almost.

Panting breath mingles with the shouts and you hear the sound of heavy boots against the dirt getting closer to you.

You hush the dragon, attempting to get its attention again. The eyes flick back to you. Swallowing nervously, your hand slowly lands on the dragon’s snout, scales warm to the touch.

Clicking moans escape from the dragon’s mouth, like purrs from a satisfied cat.

The grin breaks out on your face, relief flooding your tense body.

“You there! Bastard!” The commanding voice spits from behind you. “Step away from that dragon!”

Heart hammering in your chest, you turn to see the young Prince approaching you. Hand resting on the hilt of his sword and crimson cape flowing behind him as he quickens his pace to meet you.

"Stay away from me!" You frantically shout, trying so desperately to not offend the large dragon behind you. You realize that you truly are between a rock and a hard place.

“Are you a fool with a death wish? That is the Cannibal!” He shouts back at you.

Wind whips his brown curls over his shoulders, revealing his lightly freckled face. His gaze is intense, almost like a dragon’s.

“Your mother believes that people like us have a chance. So I will take it.” You reply, taking determined steps backwards towards the dragon’s torso.

“You imbecile, get back here before you get us both killed!” The Prince is filled to the brim with frustration, gripping his sword even tighter than before.

However he doesn’t take another step towards you, the dragon beside you too unpredictable. His hesitation provides you with enough time to climb up the large dragon, grasping tightly onto sharp horns and glimmering scales.

The Cannibal shifts below you but gives no indication that he wants you dead. In fact, the back mass vibrates with the clicks and whirs from before.

You swing a leg over one of the ridges, body blossoming with the warmth of the scales between your covered thighs.

Prince Jacaerys stares at you in disbelief as you attempt to balance on the back of the dragon.

Hands shaking you grab onto the Cannibal’s horns. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest and your breath is erratic. This was nothing like you expected at all.

Exhaling, you feel as though you were finally complete. Like you finally found your true self; propped up on an infamous dragon. The fire within the Cannibal helps light your own.

You were much more than a common Targaryen bastard now.

Prince Jacaerys still stands below you, standing firm in the grass.

“What?” You ask, an eyebrow quirked up as a challenge. “Jealous that mine is bigger?

Smirking, you watch the Prince flush red with anger and embarrassment. Watching him fumble with his words fuels the surge of power running through your veins.

“Now if you excuse me, my Prince.” You tighten your hold on the horns of the dragon below you. Your knuckles are white, but until you get the gear the other dragonriders have, you have to deal with the lack of safety. “I am going to practice flying before meeting with our Queen.”

Prince Jacaerys clenches his teeth, jaw tightening, as his deep brown eyes watch as you ascend above him.

Excitement pumps through your veins as the heat of the Cannibal's scales between your legs subdues the chill of the winds surrounding you.

Thoughts of the young Prince leave your mind as you soar higher into the clouds.

No longer were you just a silver-haired bastard. You were a dragonrider; one of only a select few.

Nothing could touch you here, up in the vastness of the sky.

•

[icarusignite]

the sickness you foster, your favourite addictions (p.2)

Pairing: Colonel Caleb Xia x Non-MC Reader

Summary: After your brother was killed under the command of newly appointed Colonel Caleb Xia, you swore you'd never forgive the man who returned from the mission when your brother did not. But when you're forcibly reassigned as his second-in-command, you're pulled into a cold war of secrets and bloodstained power plays.

Assigned to spy on the colonel by the same institution that decorated your brother's grave with empty honours, you find yourself caught between two monsters, one who watches from above, and one who stands too close. But there's more to Caleb than perceived cruelty. He’s calculating, obsessive, and far too interested in what lies beneath your controlled fury. The closer you get, the more you begin to wonder: Is this grief? Hatred? Or the start of something far darker?

Warnings: Caleb being a FREAK. Yandere vibes. Angst? Mentions of violence and injury. SLOWBURN. Enemies to lovers. Caleb being a yearner.

Word Count: 5.6

A/N: MC is not a love interest here; she's just a person of interest to him, but more in a little sister/childhood friend way.

I always think these fics will be one chapter long, but unfortunately, I am a yapper and will need a part 3 to properly conclude this without rushing, lol. Sorry for the excessive rambling lol.

Also, thank you so much for all the lovely comments on the previous chapter. I would love to hear yalls thoughts on this one too <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

Caleb Xia had not come to the Farspace Fleet to make connections. He was not there to be liked or to get distracted. He had a mission, and more importantly, he had her to protect.

Even now, across the stars, across the politics and distance, the only thing that ever managed to rattle the precision of his focus was her. The girl he'd left behind in Linkon City. The girl who used to trail behind him like a second shadow, demanding attention in the way only someone utterly confident in their place in your heart ever could. She was his tether to a version of himself that didn't kill without pause.

She thought he was dead now, and maybe, in some ways, that was true. The version of him she loved had died on purpose, buried beneath classified reports and staged incidents to protect her. That's why Caleb kept his distance from everyone who wasn't her, unwilling to let anyone live in the space between his ribs, a place that was reserved for her and her alone. 

It had been easy enough until he met your brother. 

They'd been classmates at the aerospace academy, and while others sought to climb the hierarchy, your brother was foolishly earnest. He lacked ambition, sure, but he never lacked drive. He threw himself into every assignment like it mattered, even when it didn't. He laughed at things Caleb didn't think were funny. He saluted too fast, grinned too wide, and never once stopped talking.

It had annoyed Caleb at first until he realized why. Your brother reminded him of the girl he'd left behind. The same wide-eyed intensity. The same unapologetic need to prove themselves in a world that wanted them smaller. The same way they loved too loudly. 

Caleb had been even more surprised to see your brother again when he joined the Farspace Fleet. Not because he wasn't capable, but because he didn't have the edge it took to survive such an institution. 

Yet your brother remained a sincere fool, even when senior officers tore into the new recruits. He wasn't like the others, scrambling for promotion, slicing through their peers for a chance to rise. When Caleb made Colonel, he congratulated him, but laughed off any future attempts of his own to be promoted. 

"Colonel's not for me," he'd said. "The hours are shit. Can't spend time with the people you care about if you're chained to duty all day."

It should have irritated Caleb, but it only made his chest ache because it reminded him of her. That was exactly something MC would have said if she'd seen his atrocious hours, right before reprimanding him for not taking care of himself. So he let your brother reprimand him in her stead, allowing him close because it was familiar. MC thought he was dead and she'd never again tell him to stay hydrated or get enough sleep, so if all he had was a pale imitation of her concern, he'd take it. 

And then there were the stories about you.

He didn't know your name at first. Just "my sister" this and "my sister" that. Your brother could never shut up about you. Your brilliance. Your grades. The way you once rebuilt your home's broken heater by hand at fifteen, and the way you were always right.

Caleb didn't have the luxury to care about other people's families when he was trying so hard to protect the fragments of his own, but your name—you—slipped through all his defences, even before he'd seen your face. 

Your brother brought you up during drills, after lectures, even once during a brutal training session. During long study nights at the academy, when everyone else was cracking under the pressure of orbital physics equations, he would groan dramatically and say, "If my sister were here, she'd have done this with her eyes closed and still have time to fix the coffee machine." 

You were his benchmark and his gold standard. Caleb never encouraged it, but your brother offered you up anyway, story after story, painting you as brilliant, stubborn, terrifyingly competent, and always just out of reach. 

Every mention of you was laced with that fierce, protective admiration that siblings often carry without knowing how to name it. This also reminded Caleb of MC. The way she had once looked at him, as if he hung the constellations in the sky and his presence alone could bend the world into safety.

Somehow, in that mirroring affection, he found a fragile comfort. If your brother loved you the way MC once loved him, then perhaps—even in death—he would remain with her. In memory and in grief. If she missed him even half as much as your brother missed you during mere office hours, then Caleb would never truly be gone.

His interest in you began innocently, if such a word could ever apply to a man like him. At first, he only meant to put a face to the name. You had been spoken of far too often, your name bleeding through lips not just belonging to your brother but from seasoned officers with enough awe in their voices to catch his attention.

The first time he saw you, it was in passing, just before some minor routine mission. It was the kind of operation he could run blindfolded with half his team asleep, and most of his fellow pilots were lounging lazily until you walked in. 

You came in with no regard for the chain of command, and you didn't even glance at anyone else there. As far as you were concerned, your brother was the only person in that room worth your time.

You shoved a slim booklet toward him with a force only a sibling could weaponize and hissed, "Do you ever check your loadout before you leave, or do you plan to flirt with death every time?"

Your brother stammered out some excuse involving drills, but you weren't having it. You were the very image of exasperated affection, your hands already busy fishing out something from your pocket before he could finish, slapping a fistful of brightly wrapped candies into his hand unceremoniously. Caleb recognized the brand to be the same that your brother used to favour during their academy days, and the expression on your face reminded him of himself, back when he was still in MC's life. 

Back in high school, she used to forget her homework on the kitchen table more days than not, and it always fell on him to realize halfway through the commute. He'd groan, scold her for her airheadedness, and then sprint back, muttering curses under his breath, only to return with it in hand before the first bell. Every time, she'd beam at him like he'd saved her from death itself, and every time, he'd roll his eyes and call her a menace.

That was the face you wore now, and it pierced Caleb's armour in a way no weapon ever could.

You didn't even know he was watching, and when your gaze swept past him, it was with complete dismissal, like his presence was little more than background noise. But Caleb stared long after you left.

In you, he saw the version of himself he thought he'd buried with his past, something old and human stirring within him, despite his resistance. He had to know more about you, spurred on with the kind of need that pressed cold fingers to the base of his spine. The kind that made men like him start wars.

Unfortunately for him, you rarely left your sector of the base, and running into you was a rarity, except for when your team had to present projects. During these presentations, you were even more dazzling. You held the attention of the room with practiced confidence, answering even the most intrusive of inquiries with maddening calm. It seemed that nothing could ruffle your feathers, but that didn't stop Caleb from imagining he could do it. 

As he rose through the ranks, he earned clearance, and among the dozens of surveillance camera footasge available to his all-seeing eyes, he made sure yours was pinned. Your workshop. Your hallway. Your sector's elevators. He never told himself it was wrong, because how could it be? It wasn't interfering with your productivity, and what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you. 

Caleb's favourite thing was to watch you work, his monitors lighting his dark quarters like altars in the dead of night. On screen, you were bent over your workbench, welding sparks haloing your face like tiny suns, sweat glistening at your temple. You muttered to yourself when your calculations didn't align, tongue pressed to the inside of your cheek in frustration. You were beautiful in the way that comets were—all fire and trajectory and no apology.

When a single lock of your hair would slip free from the practical knot you usually wore it in, his composure would unravel. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach through the screen, like they could slip between time and space and brush it aside. Just one touch, enough to feel the heat of your skin beneath his knuckles. Just to tuck the strand of hair behind your ear and feel you lean into him, even if you didn't mean to.

When you began to hum absentmindedly, he wanted to press his fingertips to the hollow of your throat and feel the echo of your voice, to learn your tone not by sound but by vibration. It was worse when he imagined the shape your throat would make when you finally said his name. Would you say it like a curse or a prayer? How would your muscles shift as you formed the unfamiliar syllables? 

Caleb wanted to be closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of your breath against his collar, to count the heartbeats you lost when you forgot to eat, to feel the trembling in your wrists when you hadn't slept. Close enough to dismantle you, and rebuild you again.

And all the while, you went about your work, unaware that somewhere, someone was memorizing the shape of you, thinking about sliding his fingers down the curve of your spine just to feel the rigid tension of your posture melt beneath his touch.

Caleb knew everything there was to know about you, and in his own way, he intervened when necessary. He kept your records off promotions lists that would take you away from the base, and vetoed transfers you never even knew were proposed. He made sure those who disrespected you—the overconfident officers who burst into your lab and barked orders like you weren't twice as qualified—disappeared.

It didn't matter that you rejected the advances of the men who dared flirt. Didn't matter that you shut them down with a frown and a tone sharp enough to cut steel. What mattered was that they'd tried. They thought they could have you, and that was transgression enough.

He did it all from the shadows, but he never approached you, because the fantasy of you was safer. Fantasy didn't challenge, or bite, or bleed. In the safety of his mind, you were his, and it made sense to him. After all, Caleb had never been allowed to keep the things he loved, but he could watch them. He could protect them from a distance, even if that distance was laced with hunger, and every part of him itched to close it.

After your brother died, his fixation on you became a wildfire, no longer contained or rational, if it ever had been. Before, it had been something he could lie to himself about. Curiosity. Admiration. Surveillance under the pretense of strategy. A whisper of the past wrapped in the present. 

But afterwards, something shifted. The world tilted, and suddenly, you were the only thread left between who he'd once been and what he had become.

The mission itself had gone fine. If there was one thing Caleb prided himself on, it was the absence of chaos. But after the vessel landed and the debrief ended, he noticed the data sync hadn't completed. A minor bug, one he should've handled himself. Then your stupidly eager brother had offered to stay behind and transfer the log, and Caleb had let him. 

That was the mistake. The only mistake that mattered. The explosion was timed and deliberate, meant for him, but it was your brother who died, torn apart inside the very cockpit Caleb should have occupied.

There was no undoing it, and no violent retribution would bring him back.

He debated going to the funeral. Not out of grief—though the grief was there—but because he wasn't sure he could face you. 

He had constructed a hundred scenarios in his head for how he might finally speak to you. Maybe you'd brush past him in the corridor and offer a nod. Maybe you'd be assigned to consult with him on a project. Maybe, one day, you'd even look at him with something softer than indifference.

But when the time finally came for you to register his presence, it was with naked loathing. It rendered Caleb almost breathless. There was no distance now, no screen between you, and you saw him for what he was. The man who had let your brother die. The man who should have died instead. 

Gods, you were right. You should have spit on his boots and screamed in his face, but all you did was stand silently, clutching a box of medals like they were an insult.

Caleb didn't remember much of the service. Just a hollow eulogy, and the way the wind tugged at the strands of your hair—the same strands he had once ached to brush away from your neck with careful fingers.

How absurd that he'd dreamed of your smile. That he imagined you saying his name. That he thought he could meet you and not burn.

You hated him, and perhaps that was the most honest thing he'd ever earned.

When you were transferred to serve as his second-in-command, he hadn't seen it coming, and that alone was cause for alarm.

Caleb prided himself on always being five steps ahead—of his enemies, his superiors, and whatever machinations brewed behind the curtain of Farspace politics. When his previous second-in-command vanished mid-cycle, grievously injured during an unsanctioned mission, he knew then, someone was moving pieces behind his back. Someone wanted eyes on him.

He braced for a spy of some sort, but what he did not expect to see was you standing in his doorway and reporting for duty, his title tumbling from your lips as if pulled from one of his daydreams. You were here, and you were his. The one person he had watched for far too long had been handed to him practically gift-wrapped. 

The sane thing would have been to have you transferred. He knew your presence was a trap, and it would be easier to slaughter the person sent to spy on him if they weren't you. But when faced with your beautifully sharpened hate, Caleb found he liked it. Craved it, even.

You were finally looking at him. Not as a faceless officer in a crowd, but as him. Your body tensed every time he walked past, and though you pretended you weren't watching him during briefings, he caught your eyes flickering to him too fast, your scowl deepening when he gave an order you didn't like.

You were hyperaware of him, and that was a gift he would not squander.

No more watching you through flickering security feeds late into the night. You were in his presence every hour of the day now. He could trace the arch of your fingers as you delivered status reports, brush his hand against yours when passing datapads, and lean over your shoulder to review schematics under the guise of work.

You thought he gave you the menial tasks to humiliate you, but really, he did it to keep you by his side longer, so that you wouldn't scurry off to your workshop the moment you were finished. And of course, he liked to watch your lips curl around protests. To see how long you could last before that temper of yours finally snapped. 

When you started sabotaging his systems, he said nothing. Others would have been disciplined or stripped of rank, but since it was you, he let things slide. Every time he uncovered one of your petty tricks, he didn't reprimand you. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted, very nearly resembling a smile.

If you were plotting revenge, you were thinking of him. Pacing your quarters, teeth gnashing, deciding how best to needle him next. In that way, he was inhabiting your thoughts just as thoroughly as you had overtaken his own.

If you kept hating him, it meant he mattered to you, and until you were ready to admit it was something more, he would keep feeding the flames, one slow, inevitable coffee order at a time. As long as you kept fighting him, he would let you believe you had the upper hand. In his head, it was all foreplay, and Caleb Xia was endlessly, agonizingly patient.

He hadn't meant for the confrontation in your workshop to go this far. Caleb's initial intention was to simply remind you who you were dealing with. To let you know that he was aware of your juvenile attempts to undermine his authority with rescheduled debriefs and misplaced files. He hadn't expected to lose his composure. 

But then you'd opened your mouth and spoken aloud the accusation that had been brewing in you for weeks. You'd said the words that had haunted him since the moment your brother's body was dragged from the wreckage. 

"All you do is get people killed."

Something inside Caleb fractured, and his Evol surged forward. His hands were in your hair before he could think better of it, threaded through with enough pressure to keep you grounded, but you refused to look away. He was sure to use the arm of his that still had sensation, just so he could feel the heat of your skin, despite the gloves.

He had wanted to do this for so long, even if it was all wrong now. To brush your hair behind your ear, just to hear you snarl. To run his thumb across your lips and see what you'd do—bite him, maybe. To press his palm to the base of your throat to feel your voice catch.

In all his fantasies, when he imagined you kneeling before him, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to be willing. Supplicant not out of force, but from need. Your eyes were supposed to be affectionate, not seething. Your lips parted in surrender, not to curse him.

Instead, you spat poison and accused him of letting the other officers humiliate you. Caleb almost laughed at that, the sound clawing its way up his throat, and dying before it reached his mouth.

You really didn't know, did you?

Did you not realize it was never the same officer twice? That each one who dared to sneer at you vanished? Shipped off, demoted, blacklisted, sent into deepspace assignments with low return rates. Every insult you endured was a death sentence for the man who dealt it. 

Caleb protected you, and you dared to say that he let them humiliate you? You dared to question his abilities when it was you who was the traitor. 

When he mentioned the Admiral, the words corroded his tongue. That old man had always been a problem, and though Caleb had tried to handle it, he was far more influential than some mouthy officer. Untouchable, for now. So every report he received of you slipping into Harkins' office made his jaw ache. Every minute you spent alone with that leech fanned a flame beneath his skin he couldn't smother. And worse, you dared to lie to him about it, like he didn't already know everything there was to know about you. 

The sight of your bleeding palm was another distraction. You didn't fight when he reached out, but your expression was taut with disdain. Coldness spread across your face like a sheet of ice, so detached it might have been a mask, and that made something hideous twist low in his gut.

He had wanted another expression. Any expression. He needed a reaction; a spark of something that proved you were still with him in this room.

That's why he pressed his thumb into the wound, catching the resultant tears that fell from your eyes with something akin to satisfaction, because it confirmed the fact that you could still cry, that there was a flicker of something real and human under that armour you wore like a second skin. He was gentle, but not like a lover. He was simply a man starving for proof that he still existed in your world at all.

Then, without hesitation, his fingers rose to his mouth. The warmth of your blood lingered on his tongue like an oath, and when he pressed his lips together, the blood marked them crimson. It was unholy, and it was yours. The taste of you. Iron and salt. Heat and hate.

He hadn't planned it, but it felt right. To wear it in a way that made your pain now a part of him, bound beneath skin and instinct. If he could not reach you with words, then maybe he could with this strange intimacy carved from grief, proximity, and ruin.

Caleb wondered if you could feel what he felt. That pull in the air, strung taut between need and unspoken obsession. He wondered if you could hear the way your name echoed in his chest like a drumbeat.

Eventually, he let go, and the moment he released his Evol, you collapsed like a marionette cut from its strings. For a moment, he felt sick at the sight of it. The betrayed look in your eyes was one he wasn't prepared for, and it struck him deeper than your words ever could have.

Was that guilt?

Hatred is better than indifference.

He clung to that notion like a creed. If your stomach twisted every time he entered the room, it meant you were thinking of him. If you loathed him, then he hadn't vanished from your mind entirely. But somewhere between your shuddering breaths and the faint shimmer of your tears, that fragile truth began to sour. 

Caleb's selfish, traitorous heart wanted more. He wanted your voice to be softer. Your gaze steady, not guarded. He wanted to offer his hand and not see you recoil like it burned. He wanted—no, he needed something kinder than this war he'd created.

Every time he reached for you with whatever twisted shape his affection had taken, it drove you further away. You looked at him like he was monstrous, and maybe he was. But once, long ago, before the Fleet and the mission and the burden of who he had to become, he had been someone else. A version of himself that maybe you could have loved.

Why did everything precious slip through his fingers?

When he left, he lingered just outside the threshold of your domain, his back pressed to the wall. The door that sealed behind him was not soundproof, and he didn't have to wait too long before he heard the whimpers break free from you like a wound tearing open.

It wasn't graceful or quiet. It was devastating. You were trying so hard to keep it in. You always tried so hard to be strong. Now he was the reason you were falling apart.

Caleb closed his eyes and listened. He should have left, but he stayed rooted in place, willing himself not to return to you. Not to cradle your face in his palms and wipe away the tears that he had caused. Not to kneel beside you and whisper apologies he didn't know how to make real.

You deserved tenderness, but all he gave you was ruin.

The next day, Caleb you long before you burst into his office. He didn't even need to look up, because the storm of your footfalls had become as familiar to him as the beat of his own heart.

When the doors hissed open, your presence charged the air, and you didn't even bother with the usual pretense of a knock. Certainly not after last night.

"Why have I just been informed that I'm off for the rest of the week?"

Caleb leaned back in his chair, deliberately unhurried, savouring the defiance in your eyes. "You had vacation days. I thought now would be a good time to take them. Considering your... recent state of overwork." 

"As if you—"

"Well, we wouldn't want you to mess up now, would we? Better for you to rest." His eyes flicked meaningfully to your bandaged hand, and then to the dark shadows blooming beneath your eyes. 

You took a step forward, seething. "You can't just force me to take days off."

"Actually, I can. I am your superior."

"I have projects to attend to. Work that isn't just mine. I'm part of a team. If I disappear for a week, it stalls everything."

"That's unfortunate. They'll survive."

"Oh, please, do not pretend to care."

He froze at that, his mouth tightening as if you'd shoved a lemon between his teeth. "I'm not pretending. You need a break, and I'm making sure you get one."

"You're making sure?" you repeated bitterly. "Don't act like I'm your responsibility."

"Aren't you?" 

The silence between you sharpened, and you glared at him. "You are out of line, even as my superior."

"And you are exhausted," he countered. "You haven't slept in weeks, and you're obviously too proud to admit your body is falling apart, so I did what I had to do."

"Oh," you breathed furiously, "so this is concern now? Is that what we're calling it?"

"Call it whatever you like. Forgive me for trying to ensure my second in command remains in good health so I don't have to go through the trouble of looking for yet another replacement."

That made you laugh, and it was a joyless sound. "You've got some nerve, Colonel. You think giving me a few days off is some kind of gift? You think it makes up for everything else?"

Caleb studied your face as if he could carve the truth from your bones.

"You don't get a say in when I take days off," you snapped. 

"I do actually. I get a say in every schedule, every assignment, every time you're summoned or dismissed. That's the hierarchy."

You looked like you wanted to slap him, and briefly, he hoped you would, because then you'd be touching him. Unfortunately for him, you took a step backward instead, putting more distance between the two of you. 

"Do you have any actual work for me today?" you asked through gritted teeth. "Or would you like me to catalogue lightbulbs again?"

Caleb's lips twitched in amusement, already imagining your displeasure at what he'd arranged. "As it happens, there's a batch of records that need cross-referencing. Inconsistencies in pilot logs from last quarter. It all needs to be sorted and compiled."

"You're giving me filing duty?"

"Digital record consolidation. It is vital for the Fleet's progress."

"You want me to sit in a chair and comb through logs."

"You're most welcome to stand and do it." Caleb shrugged. "Regardless, it should require minimal physical strain. You can even keep that hand elevated if you like."

You narrowed your eyes. "I am not a data clerk."

"You're whatever I say you are." 

"This is punishment, then?" You curled your lips in disdain. "You behave inappropriately and invade people's privacy, and I'm the one who gets punished. Fantastic."

An odd expression flashed in Caleb's eyes, equal parts regret and irritation. "This is me showing restraint. If I gave you no task at all, I know exactly where you'd run off to."

He watched you storm out without another word, the heat of your resentment still lingering. He meant to speak gently this morning. Maybe even offer you a reprieve you could believe was your own choice. Instead, he'd defaulted to callous commands, the only language he truly knew.

He told himself it was to keep you safe, but the truth was uglier. He felt guilty. That wasn't a word he often allowed himself; it served no tactical purpose. Guilt was sentiment, and sentiment got soldiers killed. But last night he'd crossed a line. Several, in fact. 

He had only wanted to see if he could break you the way you kept threatening to break him. That much he could admit. But he'd ended up hurting you more than intended, not just with his Evol, but with the things he'd said, the way he'd dragged grief out of you and twisted it until it mirrored his own. He didn't realize the severity of it until he'd heard you cry out, but your sobs had left bruises on the walls of his mind.

It should've satisfied him, but it didn't. And when you were back to pretending everything was fine this morning, he couldn't stand it. 

The task he'd assigned to you served multiple functions. It kept you off your feet, gave your body a break from the pressure you refused to acknowledge, and it kept you close. Through the walls, he could listen for your pacing and track every frustrated mutter coming from the office adjacent to his.

Mostly, it was his version of a peace offering.

By the end of the day, Caleb was done with your silence. He'd summoned you three times today, but you never responded. There had been no snarky remarks through the comms or passive-aggressive delay. Just absence. 

You were never like this. Usually, you bristled like a cornered animal and followed orders through gritted teeth, but today felt different. He tried to convince himself it was fine. You were doing the task assigned to you, but the way you'd stormed out of his office earlier had stirred something restless in him, and it wouldn't let him sit still.

So, several hours later, Caleb strode into your temporary office, the one he'd chosen specifically for its proximity to his own. He entered without knocking, not that it would have made a difference, because there you were, fast asleep at your desk. 

Your head rested on your propped-up hand, elbow perched precariously at the edge of the console, and it wobbled slightly, as if you might topple at any moment. For once, you weren't frowning. No venom curled your lips, and no rebellion burned in your eyes. There was just the steady rise and fall of your chest. You looked vulnerable like this, fragile in a way he'd never let himself picture.

Caleb watched the faint furrow in your brow twitch, as if you were arguing with someone in your dreams. He hoped it was him. He hoped he resided in your dreams the way you did in his. 

Then, your arm slipped. Your head jerked forward, about to crash against the desk, and instinct moved before thought. Caleb's gloved hand caught you just in time, palm bracing your cheek and fingers spreading beneath your jaw in an almost tender hold. Your skin was warm and soft under his touch.

Your eyes opened, unfocused and glassy. When recognition dawned, your expression sharpened, making you flinch and shove his hand away, standing abruptly.

"Colonel," you greeted stiffly. 

He didn't answer right away, his hand still hanging in the air where your face had just been, before curling slowly into a fist and dropping to his side. "You didn't answer your summons," he stated evenly.

"I was working." You gestured bitterly at your work station, your voice hoarse with sleep.

"I noticed." His gaze swept over the screen and then back to you. "I didn't realize it was such dreary work that it would cause you to fall asleep."

"Are you going to tell me off for it?"

"You nearly broke your nose."

"I didn't." Your tone was clipped and challenging. "Congratulations on pointing out the obvious. You want a medal, Colonel? Although I'm sure you have enough."

He didn't take the bait. "This is what happens when you don't listen. I did say that you were tired."

You opened your mouth to retort but faltered for a beat. Then you turned away from him, muttering, "Well, thank you for telling me how I feel, your fraudulent concern is noted. Do not force yourself to express it in the future, I'm sure it has been a taxing endeavour."

"Your work is done."

You blinked at his sudden change of topic. "Excuse me?"

"Your work is done," Caleb repeated. "You may begin your vacation. Starting now."

"You can't just—"

But he was already moving. Without asking or waiting for your protest, he bent over your console and began methodically shutting down your work. 

Click. Tabs closed.

Click. Diagnostic tools powered down.

Click. Project logs minimized and archived.

You stood dumbfounded as he reached for the handwritten schematics beside your monitor next and stacked them neatly, tapping the corners so they were perfectly aligned.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't look at you as he finished tidying your workspace like it was his own. "You've been excused. Which means your tasks for the day are complete. The files will still be here when you return. Untouched."

"Untouched?" you echoed incredulously. "You don't get to decide when I stop working."

Caleb lifted a single brow as if your outrage were some amusing inconvenience. "On the contrary."

"Colonel—"

He gestured smoothly toward the door. "You're dismissed. Rest. Sleep. Or don't. I don't particularly care what you do, as long as it does not involve exhausting yourself into collapse on fleet time."

He stepped toward you, and again, you felt that disorienting pull in the air. A sense that he was too close, even when he kept his hands behind his back like a proper officer.

"I'll have a new task for you when you return," he said. "Something simple that even you can manage."

"I'm not an invalid."

"I am just trying to protect my assets." He smirked a little and walked to the door. "I better not find out you've been tinkering around in your workshop during your time off. Go home, or if you prefer, go anywhere but here."

Taglist: @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @mi-yaw @userjunhuii @yahumankdj @twismare @missybabes @elielielira @kazbrkker @sylusgirlie7 @velvtcherie @potania @lyn-auxcord @rjreins @applecaviar @dramaticalsachan @iwantsomepotatoxx @inzanekillian @unbaed-you @poisonpomme

(hope i didn't miss anyone ❤️)

[spikedfearn]

I Like the Way You Kiss Me

Chapter II

James Cook x fem!reader

summary: You move into a grimy South London flat through a mutual friend—Effy says the place is cheap, the people are sound. She forgets to mention one of them is James Cook. Loud, cocky, shirtless more often than not—he's everything you can't stand. From the second you meet, it's all eye-rolls and insults, tension sharp enough to cut. But when a late-night fight turns into a rough hallway kiss, things spiral into something ugly, hot, and completely off-limits. You hate him. He loves getting under your skin. And neither of you can stop.

wc: 8.4k

a/n: dropped Chapter II immediately after the first because I got a flood of filthy little love notes in my ask box and—let’s be honest—I’m a whore for attention. Keep stroking my ego and I’ll keep dropping chapters like Cook drops boundaries. 😌💋 thank you once again to @iamyourwayout for the banners!!

warnings: enemies to lovers, smoking & drinking, party chaos, foul language, mutual degradation kink, unbearable sexual tension, hallway makeouts, casual slapping, emotionally constipated idiots, Cook being Cook™, messy hookups, jealousy-fueled tension, self-sabotage as foreplay, maladaptive coping mechanisms, internalized horniness, arousal denial, dry humping in a hallway, clothes-on grinding, heavy petting, tongue-fucking, spit-sharing, filthy mouth on both ends, "you like that, don’t you" energy, whispered threats as dirty talk, face-grabbing, desperation so loud it echoes, orgasm denial, fully clothed fingering, clit rubbing through panties, fingers in mouth, rutting like animals against a wall, overstimulation without even getting naked, power plays with zero follow-through, reader gets fingered in a hallway, Cook gets hard and pressed up against her, penetrative sex (P-in-V) against the wall, unprotected sex, frantic fucking, aggressive thrusting, rough sex, manhandling, possessive dirty talk, hair pulling, mutual begging without saying the words, one (1) moment of intimacy that’s immediately smothered in denial, and exactly zero emotional progress made by anyone involved

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, please enjoy!!

Fic Masterlist/Main Masterlist

Chapter II: Don't You Wanna Make Me Proud?

You wake up already angry.

Not at anything in particular—just the sheer fact of being awake. The ceiling above you is painted in watery morning light, pale grey bleeding through the broken slats of your blinds, and everything in your room feels too close. The air. The sheets. Your skin.

You’re sweating under the covers. Your hoodie is rucked halfway up your ribs, and your left sock has vanished completely, leaving one foot clammy against the mattress and the other overheating in wool.

There’s a throb behind your left eye. Not quite a headache—just pressure, dull and persistent, like your body is warning you that something isn’t right.

And it isn’t.

Because it’s not a hangover.

It’s him.

It’s still him.

You blink slowly, and it’s already there: memory sliding back into you like a hand around your throat.

Not gentle

Not soft.

Just there—immediate and sharp and hot.

The hallway.

The light flickering like it was holding its breath.

The music throbbing faintly behind the walls, distant and drowned like you were underwater.

His voice, low and ruined—“Say it.”

His hand on your waist.

His mouth on your mouth.

The sound he made when you kissed him back.

You press your palms to your face.

Hard.

But it’s no use.

You can still feel the sting of your slap against your fingers.

You can still feel his grin stretching under it like it was the best thing you’d ever done to him.

You groan aloud, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow. Your skin is flushed. Your thighs are sticky with heat. You don’t need to check to know your pulse is fluttering wildly beneath your jaw like it’s trying to get out.

You can still taste him.

That mix of cigarette smoke and beer and salt and him.

That impossible, awful, magnetic thing that made your knees go loose and your spine arch and your mouth open like you were hungry for it—because maybe you were.

Maybe you still are.

You shove the blankets off you with too much force. They tangle around your ankles, knotting like they’re trying to hold you down.

You kick them free and sit up, breath shallow, chest heaving.

The room is spinning just slightly, not from drink but from adrenaline—from remembering. You scrub a hand down your face and stare at the floor. You feel raw. Abraded. Like your body doesn’t know what version of the night it’s allowed to believe.

Did he kiss you like he hated you? Or like he knew he never would again?

Did you kiss him back because you wanted to shut him up?

Or because you didn’t?

You dress like you’re suiting up for battle—hoodie, thick socks, leggings with the waistband pulled up too high. You don’t look in the mirror. You already know what you’ll see.

Shame. Confusion.

And something else. Something worse.

You brush your teeth too hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it might run. You scrub your tongue until your gums ache. You rinse with cold water that makes your eyes water.

But no matter how many times you spit and swish, you can’t get rid of the taste.

You swear it’s still on your lips.

In your mouth.

Between your legs.

The flat is quieter than it should be.

You step into the kitchen and it’s like walking into an echo. The floorboards creak under your socks. The fridge hums too loud. A light bulb flickers overhead, buzzing like a trapped insect.

The sink is full of crusted solo cups and soggy crisps and someone’s melted ice cubes. You can smell old beer and someone’s cologne and the faint tang of weed still lingering in the air.

The kitchen table is littered with evidence—bottle caps, a lighter, two unmatched shoes, a scarf that might be Effy’s or might belong to the girl Cook had his hands on.

Your eyes catch a red plastic cup on the edge of the counter. It’s smeared with gloss—your gloss. The same sticky shimmer you wore when you stormed down the hall last night and told yourself you weren’t going to look at him again.

Your stomach lurches.

You turn away too fast and open the fridge even though you’re not hungry. The cold air hits your face like a gentle tap. There’s nothing you want. Only half-drunk cider bottles, ketchup, and a carton of milk that expired two weeks ago.

You close the door.

You stand there for a minute, one hand braced on the counter, the other curled into the hem of your hoodie like it might keep you from unraveling.

You wait for him to appear.

Leaning against the doorframe. Shirtless. Smirking. Smoking. Asking you if you’re still mad or just wet.

He doesn’t come.

And somehow, that’s worse.

You stay in your room the rest of the day.

Effy drifts in and out of the flat like weather. You hear her boots in the hallway, her laugh through the walls, her voice low and amused in phone calls you don’t listen to.

She doesn’t knock. She doesn’t ask.

You’re both grateful and bitter.

At one point you scroll through Instagram for almost an hour and realize you haven’t absorbed a single image. Just bright colors and captions and filtered selfies while your brain keeps rewinding to his hands on your waist, the way his thigh slipped between yours and made you gasp like you’d been lit from the inside.

Your phone dies in your hand. You don’t plug it in.

You curl under the blankets and try to read.

You try to nap.

You try to think about anything else.

But your body won’t let you.

Every time you shift, you feel sore. Like your skin remembers what you’re trying to forget. Like your hips are still chasing that friction. Like your lips haven’t stopped tingling since the moment he bit down on your bottom one and moaned like he’d just found religion.

You hate him.

You do.

But you also think about what it would’ve felt like to drag him into your room instead of running.

You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

You wonder if his mouth tastes like you now.

You wonder what it would feel like to let him finish what he started.

And that thought?

That thought is what finally makes you roll over and scream silently into your pillow until your throat aches.

It’s late.

Not party-late. Not Friday-night-late. Just that dragging, underwater sort of late where the air feels thick and reluctant and everything in the world is turned down to a murmur. Past 1 a.m., maybe 2. You don’t check.

The flat is dark. Quiet. Dead.

You’ve been tossing in bed for what feels like hours—shifting under the covers, peeling your hoodie off, putting it back on, kicking one leg out from the duvet, curling up tight like it’ll suffocate the thoughts away.

But they’re still there.

He’s still there.

Cook’s voice, replaying in your head like a looping audio track. The snap of it. The rasp. The dare in it.

“Say it.”

Your hands twist in the blanket.

You told yourself you wouldn’t think about him tonight. You swore it. But he’s in the seams of everything. The scratch in your throat. The soreness in your thighs. The ghost on your lips.

Eventually, you give up.

You throw the covers off, pad barefoot into the hallway in a threadbare tee and boxer shorts that don’t match. You’re cold, but you don’t go back for socks. You just need something—water, air, distance, maybe a fucking exorcism.

The kitchen is dark except for the glow from the streetlamp outside, spilling soft orange light through the cracked blinds. The air is cooler here, crisper, quieter. The fridge hums. You open it for the second time that day and still find nothing worth touching. Just that same half-finished cider and someone’s forgotten yogurt cup.

You pour a glass of water instead, the tap hissing loud in the silence. The sound makes your shoulders jump.

You take a long drink—long enough that it aches going down—and rest your hands on the counter to steady yourself. You press your forehead to the cabinet above and close your eyes.

You’re fine.

You’re not.

You can’t even stop smelling him—cigarettes and citrus shampoo and something darker, more animal. You swear it’s still clinging to your hoodie from the last time you got too close.

You let out a slow breath.

Then—

A sound.

The soft creak of floorboards behind you.

You freeze.

You already know it’s him.

Before he speaks. Before he moves. Before he bothers to announce himself.

You know it by the weight in the room. That shift in the air. That particular flavor of pressure, like someone lit a match behind you and it hasn’t touched skin yet, but it will.

And then—

“Didn’t peg you for a midnight snacker.”

His voice is low, rough, almost lazy. Like he just woke up. Or just lit a joint. Or maybe just stepped out of a dream where you were still under him.

You don’t turn around.

You keep your spine straight. You grip the edge of the sink until your knuckles ache.

You say nothing.

Behind you, you hear the soft rustle of fabric—hoodie sleeves pushed up, probably. Bare feet on the tile. A pause, like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You won’t.

You can’t.

You hear him open the fridge. Hear the soft clink of bottles shifting. The familiar hiss of a cap being twisted off.

He drinks.

Swallows.

Exhales.

You still don’t look.

Eventually, he leans back against the counter beside you. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat of him. His elbow hovers inches from yours.

You stare straight ahead, into the dark reflection in the microwave door.

He speaks again, this time quieter.

“You been hidin’, sweetheart?”

That word hits like a slap.

You stiffen, finally turning your head—slow, deliberate, and with your full weight behind the glare.

“Don’t call me that.”

He smirks, sips his drink again, tongue poking out to catch the drip at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you prefer princess? Angel? Babe? There’s so many to choose from.”

You level your voice, dead flat. “Fuck off.”

But your chest is rising too fast. Your palms are damp. And you know he can see it.

He leans in just slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you feel his breath when he speaks again.

“Didn’t seem to mind it the other night.”

The silence after that line is visceral.

You could cut it with a knife and it would bleed.

Your heart thuds against your ribs so hard it feels personal.

You step back.

But he steps forward.

Not a lot. Just enough.

Enough to make the space between you feel like a dare again.

You look up at him, jaw clenched, mouth pressed into a line so tight your teeth might crack. He looks down at you like he’s cataloguing your reactions. The twitch of your lips. The heat on your neck. The way your breath skips before you catch it.

“I said it didn’t mean anything,” you bite out.

“You didn’t say that.”

“I’m saying it now.”

Cook licks his lips. Smiles slow. That stupid smile that means he knows something you don’t want him to.

“Right,” he says. “Sure. That why you’ve been avoidin’ me like I fingered you in the pub loos?”

You shove him.

Not hard. But fast. Furious. Open-palmed against his chest.

He stumbles a half step back, then laughs—low and delighted and entirely unbothered.

“Touched a nerve,” he murmurs.

You’re breathing hard now.

He watches you like a man who’s figured out your pressure points and has every intention of using them.

“I was drunk,” you snap.

He cocks his head. “You didn’t kiss me like you were drunk. You kissed me like you wanted to fuck me.”

Your hand twitches. You don’t slap him this time, but God, you want to.

He grins.

You hate that your thighs clench again.

You hate that your skin still remembers how his felt.

You hate that your body is giving you away.

He’s watching it happen. In real time.

You shove past him without another word, glass still in hand, shoulders rigid, breath jagged. You feel him turn, tracking you with his eyes as you disappear down the hall.

You don’t look back.

But you feel him grin behind you.

And it burns.

The next time you see him, he’s shirtless.

Again.

Of course he is.

It’s late afternoon. The sky outside is grey and indifferent. The kind of weather that makes everything inside feel louder—every tap of the kitchen faucet, every creak in the hallway floorboards, every breath you take when you’re pretending not to listen for him.

You’ve been cooped up in your room too long. The air’s stale, and your phone's dead again. You drag yourself out with the intent of doing something mundane—laundry, tea, anything that feels normal.

You pad into the living room and stop cold.

He’s there.

Splayed out on the couch like he built it himself. One leg kicked up over the backrest, the other slouched halfway off the cushions. Remote in one hand. A cigarette tucked behind his ear. A smear of something red across his ribs—paint or sauce or blood, you don’t know, you don’t care, you’re not asking.

No shirt. Just low-slung grey joggers that barely cling to his hips, riding so low you can see the waistband of his boxers and the defined cut of muscle where his stomach narrows.

Your mouth goes dry.

You hate that.

He looks up lazily when he hears you.

“Aw, look who came out of hiding,” he drawls, voice like gravel soaked in honey. “Thought you died in there.”

You roll your eyes. “Disappointed?”

“Heartbroken.”

You move past him like he’s furniture. Something to be navigated around. He watches you with that half-lidded gaze, the one that makes you feel like he’s stripping you down just to see if you’ll flinch.

You make it to the kitchen. Fill the kettle. Try to ignore the way his eyes burn between your shoulder blades.

“Tea?” you ask without turning. Flat. Cold. Defensive.

“Nah,” he says, and you can hear the grin in it. “I’m good. You makin’ it to calm your nerves?”

You inhale through your nose. “You’re not that important.”

He snorts behind you. “Then why do I keep catchin’ you starin’?”

You spin around, arms crossed. “Because you’re always in the way.”

He stretches, slow and deliberate, arms up over his head, stomach muscles flexing with the movement.

“Maybe,” he says, voice low, “you like it when I’m in the way.”

Something in your chest twists. Sharp. Sudden.

You take your tea and go back toward the hallway, but before you can get through the door, he speaks again—quieter this time, closer to something dangerous.

“You keep runnin’ off, but you always come back.”

You pause, your back to him.

Your fingers tighten around the mug. The ceramic creaks faintly under your grip.

“I live here,” you mutter.

He laughs, low and dark. “Right. Forgot.”

You don’t respond.

You keep walking.

You don’t hear him follow.

But when you get to your room and close the door, you swear you can still feel him. Like smoke in your clothes. Like heat pressed between your legs. Like a splinter under your skin you can’t dig out.

That night, you don’t sleep.

You pace your room. Scroll. Toss. Turn.

Around 3 a.m., you go to the kitchen again.

And he’s already there.

He doesn’t speak when you walk in.

Just looks up from the cigarette he's rolling on the table—his knuckles ink-smudged, his forearms resting flat, his hair a messy halo of curls. He’s wearing a hoodie this time, the sleeves pushed up. No shirt underneath. Nothing zipped.

You don’t ask what he’s doing.

You don’t say anything.

You reach for the kettle again.

He watches the whole thing—silent, unreadable.

When you finally turn to face him, he’s leaning back in the chair, arms crossed now, cigarette dangling from his lip unlit.

“What do you want, Cook?”

He tilts his head.

The way he looks at you—slow and sharp and undressing—makes your stomach hollow out.

“You gonna slap me again if I say it?”

You feel the heat rise in your chest. Your neck. Your thighs.

You grip the counter behind you.

“I might.”

He stands.

Takes two slow steps toward you.

And stops.

“You keep doin’ that,” he says. “Actin’ like you don’t want it. Like I’m the one who started all this.”

“You did.”

He laughs once, low. “Nah. I just finished it.”

He steps in again. Closer. Right into your space.

He waits.

You breathe. Shallow and shaky.

And then—

You kiss him.

Harder than you mean to. Like punishment. Like confession.

His hands find your hips instantly, grip bruising, pulling you in. Your tea sloshes over the edge of the cup and spills on the floor, but neither of you notice.

You let him press you back against the fridge. Let him slide a thigh between your legs. Let him moan into your mouth like he can’t stand how good it feels.

This time, you don’t run.

This time, you pull him closer.

And tell yourself it’s just this once.

Even as your body says, liar.

The kitchen is still too warm. Still too small. Still thick with whatever just happened in the silence between you.

The slap of the fridge door echoes louder than it should when you shut it with more force than necessary. You’re facing away from him, breath shallow, fists curled loosely at your sides like you haven’t decided whether to swing or run. Behind you, you hear the faint creak of the floorboards as Cook shifts his weight, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move closer.

You can feel him watching you though—like the heat of a cigarette cherry hovering just shy of your skin.

It’s unbearable.

You spin, glaring. “You’re such a fucking—”

But the words catch in your throat when you see his face.

Still flushed. Still glistening slightly with sweat. Eyes dark. Lids heavy. Jaw clenched like he’s biting back something worse than anything you could say.

There’s a moment—barely a breath—where neither of you move.

Then, slowly, Cook steps forward. Just one step. Then another. The distance between you shrinks, but he doesn’t reach for you. Not yet.

“You gonna slap me again?” he murmurs, voice low and hoarse like gravel scraped over asphalt.

You swallow. Hard.

“Maybe,” you say, quieter now. “If you touch me again without asking.”

His mouth curves up at one corner, but the look in his eyes isn’t teasing. It’s focused. Sharp.

“So askin’s all it takes?”

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t trust your voice. Because your body’s already betraying you—buzzing with adrenaline, knees weak from anger and something worse. Something want-shaped.

He keeps walking until the fridge presses cold against your back, and Cook’s close enough that you feel every exhale against your collarbone. He’s not touching you, but you can feel him like a shadow stitched to your skin.

He leans in. Not quite a kiss. Not quite nothing. “You gonna tell me to stop?”

Your breath hitches.

The silence between you is screaming.

“Do it,” you whisper.

His brow lifts, just a flicker of surprise. “Yeah?”

You nod once. Barely. “Or are you all mouth?”

That’s all it takes.

He surges forward, mouth on yours—rough, greedy, tongue parting your lips like he owns the right to taste every corner of you. You gasp, and he drinks it in like he’s starving. His hands don’t ask permission—they grip your waist, fingers splayed under your shirt, dragging you into him like he can’t stand the inches between you anymore.

Your back hits the fridge again with a soft thud. Cold metal and hot skin. You make a sound—somewhere between a moan and a curse—and he pulls back just enough to speak against your mouth.

“Knew you had a filthy little mouth on you,” he breathes. “Didn’t know I’d like it this much.”

“You don’t know shit,” you snap, breathless.

“Then teach me.”

He lifts you before you can think, arms solid under your thighs, and sets you down hard on the counter. Your legs spread automatically to make room, and he steps between them like he was made to fit there. The edge of the counter bites into your ass, but you don’t care. Not when his mouth is on your throat now, teeth scraping against skin, his hands sliding up under your shirt to grope without shame.

“Cook—”

“I know,” he says, muffled by the curve of your shoulder. “I know. Fuckin’ hell, you feel good.”

He pulls back, hands tugging your shirt over your head. You raise your arms without hesitation. He curses under his breath when he sees your bra, black and lacy like it was picked for sin. He palms your tits through the cups, rough and reverent all at once, and then dips his head to mouth at the edge where lace meets skin.

“Christ,” he mutters, hot breath fanning across your chest. “You always wear shit like this around the house?”

“Thought you didn’t notice,” you breathe.

He laughs into your skin. “I notice everything about you, princess.”

You’re not proud of the sound that slips from your throat when he sucks a bruise into the swell of your breast. It’s desperate. Wrecked. And it only makes him groan low, like he’s barely keeping himself in check.

You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut, fingers tangling in his hair. He’s already got you coming apart, and you’re not even halfway undressed yet.

But then your voice breaks through the haze.

“Effy.”

Cook stills.

Your eyes flick open. “Are you two…”

He pulls back. Face flushed. Hair wild. Breath uneven.

“What?” he asks, like the question came from another planet.

You search his face. “Are you and Effy…? I don’t wanna—fuck—I don’t wanna be stepping into something.”

He blinks. Then barks out a laugh. “You think I’d be doin’ this if me and Eff were a thing?”

You shrug, suddenly aware of how naked you feel. How vulnerable. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

Cook runs a hand through his hair. His eyes settle on you again, this time without the usual smirk.

“She doesn’t want me like that,” he says, voice steadier than you expected. “Never has. I don’t want her like that either. She’s family, sort of. Fucked-up, but…not like this.”

His gaze drops pointedly to your mouth. Then to the way your thighs are still spread around his hips.

“This is different.”

You’re not sure what to say. But when he kisses you again—slow and filthy and possessive—you believe him.

And then his hands slide down, hooking into your waistband.

“Now shut up,” he mutters. “I’m busy.”

Cook’s fingers hook into the waistband of your joggers with no patience, no hesitation—just the confidence of a man who knows what he wants and has already decided he’s going to get it.

You suck in a breath as he starts to drag them down, slow and rough, grazing your hips with the backs of his knuckles. The fabric peels from your skin inch by inch, sticking slightly to your thighs where you’re already warm, already wet. He drops them somewhere behind him with a flick of his wrist, then crouches between your legs without warning, eyes level with your cunt now, barely covered by the soaked scrap of your underwear.

He grins, low and wolfish.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice thick. “You’re soaked. You were like this when you slapped me, weren’t you?”

Your face burns, but you don’t look away. You’re panting now, fingers gripping the counter edge like it might anchor you. The sight of him on his knees, eyes locked on the dark wet patch blooming through your panties, has your stomach twisting and your pulse pounding in places it shouldn’t.

He leans in, pressing a kiss right over your clothed clit, soft and mocking. You jolt, a choked sound clawing up your throat, but he just chuckles and does it again—open-mouthed this time, dragging his tongue up the center until your hips twitch forward involuntarily.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” he murmurs, nosing against you. “You get off on it. Bein’ mean to me. Getting all hot and bothered just to fight.”

“I do not—” you gasp, cut off as he licks you again, this time slower, flatter, harder.

He hooks one finger under the waistband of your panties and pulls them to the side, exposing you fully to the warm air and his hungering stare. His breath hits your folds, and you nearly lose it.

Cook groans like he’s just been served something decadent.

“Look at you,” he says, voice reverent. “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. All drippin’ for me and I’ve barely fuckin’ touched you.”

Then he does touch you. One slow, wet stroke of his tongue from bottom to top that makes your eyes roll back and your thighs clamp around his head. He moans at the pressure, gripping your hips to keep you still as he dives in again.

He eats you like it’s his last meal.

Sloppy. Greedy. Devoted.

His tongue circles your clit with maddening precision, alternating between flat swipes and quick flicks, and every time you start to come down, he finds a new angle, a new rhythm that has you keening. His stubble scrapes your inner thighs raw, but it only adds to the chaos of sensation—pleasure and pain and heat and friction all colliding until your head’s spinning.

You try to close your legs, try to squirm away from the overwhelming intensity, but he growls into you, gripping your thighs tighter and burying his face deeper.

“Stay still,” he says, voice wrecked. “Let me fucking ruin you.”

You want to tell him he already has.

You want to tell him you’ve never been eaten out like this—like it’s a privilege, like he’s got something to prove, like he’s been dreaming about it for weeks.

But all that comes out is a desperate, broken moan.

He presses two fingers inside you without warning—thick and rough and curling just right. You clench around him so hard it punches a groan out of him, and he starts fucking you with his fingers while his mouth never leaves your clit.

Your thighs tremble. Your back arches. Your hands fly to his hair and tug like you need something to ground you. He groans again, louder, like he likes being pulled.

“Cook—fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

He doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes harder. Faster. His fingers thrust into you like he’s trying to fill a need you didn’t know you had, and his mouth seals around your clit with sinful intent.

When you come, it’s not a sweet release—it’s a detonation.

Your entire body seizes, a strangled cry tearing from your throat, and you feel yourself gush around his fingers. Your vision whites out at the edges. Your legs are shaking. You’re gasping like you’ve run a marathon, and he’s still licking you through it, still working his fingers in slow, filthy thrusts like he’s milking every last drop of it out of you.

Finally, finally, he pulls back.

Your panties are still yanked to the side, your chest heaving, your skin glazed with sweat. Cook rises to his feet, mouth shiny with your slick, eyes blown wide with lust and something darker.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then leans down to murmur against your ear.

“You taste like fucking heaven.”

You slap his chest weakly. “You’re a menace.”

He grins. “Yeah. But I’m your menace now, yeah?”

You don’t answer.

But you don’t say no either.

The kiss doesn’t end so much as it splinters—pulls apart by sheer necessity, breathless and raw-edged. Your back’s still pressed to the hallway wall, his hips bracketed around yours, like he’s daring you to shove him off again. But you don’t. Not really. Not with your hands still bunched in the fabric of his shirt. Not with your breath coming in short, shaky bursts, your chest brushing his with every rise and fall.

Cook leans his forehead against yours. It should feel intimate. It doesn’t. It feels volatile, like standing too close to an open flame and pretending it won’t catch.

You hate how good he smells—like weed and skin and something sharp that lives in his sweat, in the salt just below his throat. You hate that you want to know what it tastes like.

“Tell me this isn’t a game to you,” you murmur. It’s a whisper, really—barely audible. “Tell me you’re not just trying to get under my skin for fun.”

His eyes flash open, blue and direct, slicing straight through you.

“A game?” he repeats, like it’s a joke. Then, slower: “You think I’d get hard for you just to prove a point?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

He laughs—low, mean, but not cold. “Nah. You’ve got me pegged all wrong, sweetheart.” His fingers tighten on your hip, dragging you in, his voice dropping lower. “When I want to fuck someone, I don’t waste time playing.”

You should slap him again. Instead, you breathe in so sharp it hurts.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

Cook shrugs. “Didn’t ask you to.”

But his knee is between your thighs again and your back is still arched and he’s looking at you like he could devour you through your clothes.

You break the silence before it kills you. “What about Effy?”

He stills. Just for a second—but it’s enough.

You press, because you have to. “I know something happened. Or maybe it’s still happening. I’m not interested in getting caught in that.”

Cook finally leans back, just enough to look you dead in the eye. His mouth twitches—not a smile. Something sharper. “You think I’m fuckin’ Effy?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he says plainly. “We fucked. Long time ago. It was...convenient. It’s nothin’ now.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He snorts. “She’s shagged half our mates. We don’t do jealous.”

That...shouldn’t make you feel relieved. It does. Sort of.

“Don’t worry, princess,” Cook adds, eyes dragging down your body with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. “If I wanted her, I wouldn’t be out here ready to rip your knickers off with my fuckin’ teeth.”

You feel your face burn, thighs clenching involuntarily.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you repeat, voice thinner now. It sounds like a lie, even to you.

“Good,” Cook says, voice dark and sticky with challenge. “I like a fight.”

He kisses you again—rougher this time. Hungrier. You don’t know who reaches first, but suddenly your hands are in his hair and his mouth is devouring yours, and there’s no more conversation, no more distance, no more pretending.

You are drowning.

And you’re not sure you want to be saved.

But then Cook grabs your face with both hands—palms rough and warm against your cheeks—and kisses you like he’s been waiting all fucking year for the chance. It’s not pretty. It’s not soft. It’s frantic, messy, open-mouthed with too much tongue and zero hesitation. He tastes like cigarettes and cider and something filthy that curls low in your belly.

Your back slams into the wall again, this time with intention, his hips slotting tight between your legs. You’re still wrapped in his hoodie from earlier, nothing underneath, and he figures it out real fucking fast—fingers sliding beneath the hem, gripping your bare thighs like he owns them. Like you gave them to him to keep.

You gasp into his mouth when his thigh presses hard between yours, just like before—but now there’s no one watching. Now you grind against it, chasing friction like it’s the only goddamn thing keeping you alive.

He groans, breath stuttering. “Jesus. You’re actually fuckin’ soaked, aren’t you?”

You want to hit him. You want to slap the smugness off his face, shove him away, spit something cruel and cutting—

But instead, you moan.

And it ruins you.

“Cook,” you breathe, low and humiliated.

He grins like the bastard he is, licking into your mouth before growling, “Say it again.”

You shake your head, cheeks flushed, thighs squeezing his.

“Say it,” he demands, one hand sliding up to palm your breast through the hoodie, thumb flicking your nipple until you’re shuddering against him. “Say my name while you rut on my fuckin’ leg like a bitch in heat.”

The filth of it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“Fuck you,” you hiss.

“You’re tryin’,” he mutters, lips ghosting over your jaw, “but I don’t think you’ve got the balls.”

Your hips snap against his thigh, heat pooling so deep it makes your knees buckle. His fingers tighten on your waist. His mouth drags down your neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin, biting hard enough to bruise. You gasp and whimper and grind harder.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs, voice full of low, mean praise. “All that attitude, all that mouth—fallin’ apart on me like a slag in the hallway.”

You whine, genuinely whine, like some desperate thing starved for attention. His thigh’s soaked now. So are you. You're ruined.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna fuck me,” he taunts, lips brushing your ear. “Gotta say, babe, your cunt’s tellin’ a different story.”

You whimper, eyes screwed shut.

Cook pulls back to look at you. Just for a moment. Just to see it—the wreckage. Your kiss-swollen mouth, your flushed cheeks, the hoodie hiked around your waist. Your hips twitch involuntarily, chasing friction even as he pauses.

“Pathetic,” he mutters, but his voice is thick. Reverent, even. “I haven’t even gotten my cock out yet.”

And just like that, your fingers scramble for his belt.

Your hands move without thinking—clumsy, frantic, tugging at his belt like it’s the only thing standing between you and salvation. Cook huffs a laugh against your neck, one hand braced on the wall above your head, the other sliding up your inner thigh to toy with the hem of the hoodie you’re still wearing like a second skin.

“You that desperate, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice soaked in smugness and lust. “Can’t even make it to a bed, can you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mouth is dry, your brain white-noise static. All you can do is fumble with his zipper until you finally, finally get it down, and then—

He’s already hard. Hot, heavy, thick in your palm, the kind of cock that makes your fingers stretch just to wrap around it.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you feel him twitch in your grip.

Cook groans like you’ve punched the air from his lungs. “Jesus—go on, then.”

You pump him slow, tight, dragging your palm over the head just to hear him hiss through his teeth. Your other hand braces against his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, the way his heartbeat stutters.

“You like this?” you whisper, letting your thumb smear precum over the tip just to be cruel. “Getting off in a hallway like a fuckin’ pervert?”

He growls, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. “Takes one to know one, babe. You’re the one makin’ a mess all over my thigh.”

You squeeze tighter. He gasps.

“Yeah,” he pants, hips jerking into your hand. “Fuck—keep doin’ that. Shit—knew you’d be good at this. Knew you’d be filthy under all that attitude.”

The rhythm between you builds—your hand stroking him faster, his mouth on your neck, sucking bruises like he wants to brand you. Your thighs are slick with arousal, clenching around nothing, your own need starting to drive you wild.

Cook slips a hand between your legs and grins when he feels just how wet you are.

“Christ,” he mutters. “You’re gonna soak my jeans.”

You moan, frustrated, desperate. “Then do something about it.”

His eyes flare, dark and wicked, and his mouth crashes into yours again—messy, open, tongue tangling with yours as he fists your hoodie in one hand and your hair in the other. He’s pumping into your fist now, fucking your hand with ragged, uneven thrusts, hips twitching like he’s losing control.

“Gonna cum,” he gasps into your mouth. “Gonna make such a fuckin’ mess on you—”

“Do it,” you whisper, biting his bottom lip.

And then he does.

It’s filthy. Hot. His whole body stiffens, and he groans low and mean into your mouth as he spills into your hand, thick and wet and warm. You stroke him through it, milking every last drop, lips still locked together in something too desperate to be called a kiss.

When he finally slumps against you, breathless, you smirk.

“Didn’t even last two minutes,” you tease, voice syrupy with victory.

Cook laughs, hoarse and fucked-out. “Yeah? Let’s see how long you last.”

He sinks to his knees.

The floor tiles bite into your skin, cold and cruel against the backs of your thighs, but you barely register it. Not with Cook kneeling between your legs like he’s about to pray—not to God, but to the mess he’s about to make of you.

You’re already trembling. Hoodie pushed up, panties peeled aside, legs parted over his shoulders as he kisses up the inside of your thigh with lazy, open-mouthed heat.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Look at this—already dripping, all for me.”

You feel his breath, hot and teasing, ghost over your folds before he presses a kiss right where it aches.

“Cook—” you whimper, hips bucking.

“Say my name again,” he grins, licking a stripe through your center. “C’mon. Sound prettier when you’re beggin’.”

You grab his hair like it’ll anchor you. “Cook—please—”

That’s all it takes.

He dives in.

Tongue flat, wide, filthy. Licking you like he’s starving, groaning as he tastes you. He eats pussy the way he does everything—cocky, shameless, greedy. Hands gripping your thighs like he owns them, like you’d try to run when really you’re fucking melting.

He suckles at your clit, just to hear you gasp. Circles it with his tongue, slow and obscene. Slides two fingers into you without warning—crooks them perfectly.

You nearly scream.

“Jesus—fuck, please—”

He hums like he’s tasting honey. Like you’re feeding some primal hunger in him.

“God, you’re tight,” he growls against you, fingers fucking you slow. “Bet you’d squeeze the life out of my cock.”

You’re not sure if he’s teasing or fantasizing. Both, probably.

Your hips are rolling against his face now, chasing friction, chasing the high building like a fever. He lets you. Encourages it. Tilts his head and sucks hard.

You cry out, back arching, vision sparking.

He doesn’t stop.

“Cook—Cook—” It’s broken now, half a sob, half a prayer.

“Almost there, baby?” he says, breath warm against your slick cunt. “Go on. Cum for me. Wanna see how messy you get.”

You do.

It crashes over you like fire—sharp, fast, brutal. You cum with a cry that echoes down the hall, thighs clamping around his ears, hand fisting in his hair. He moans against you, licking you through it, fingers never stopping.

And when your body slumps, boneless and overstimulated, he finally pulls back. Face wet. Grinning.

“Better than the shower, yeah?”

You can’t speak.

He kisses your inner thigh, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks like a bastard.

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice wrecked. “Round two’ll be in an actual bed.”

You barely make it to your feet before Cook’s got his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie like he owns the right to undress you now.

“Come on,” he mutters, dragging you down the hall like a man possessed. “My room.”

You don’t resist.

Can’t.

Your legs are jelly and your brain is soup and his fingers are still wet from wrecking you on the hallway floor. You stumble into his room, barely aware of where your feet land, and then he’s spinning you—pushing you gently toward the bed.

“Clothes off,” he says, voice low, commanding.

You just stand there for a second, dazed, like a puppet with cut strings. He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“What, need help?” He steps closer. “’Cause I’ll fuckin’ love helpin’.”

You lift the hoodie over your head in one go, arms shaky but determined. He watches the fabric lift, revealing your bare skin inch by inch like it’s a fucking strip show made just for him.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, under his breath but not quiet. “Look at you.”

Your panties are still halfway down your thighs, wet and ruined. You push them the rest of the way off and stand there—naked, flushed, chest heaving—and Cook stares.

He shrugs his shirt off one shoulder, then the other, then tosses it somewhere behind him without looking. Then he unbuckles his belt with a low, metallic clink that makes your cunt clench.

“You sure?” he says suddenly, pausing. “’Cause once I start, I ain’t stoppin’ till you’re full of cum and beggin’ for more.”

Your breath catches. But you nod.

And that’s all it takes.

Cook’s lips crash into yours like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His hands are rough, urgent, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to memorize every inch with his palms. He pushes you back until your knees hit the mattress—and then he’s crowding you down, crawling over you, tongue hot in your mouth, hips already rolling down against yours.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he growls into your skin, lips dragging down your jaw to your throat. “Since the fuckin’ minute you walked in.”

You don’t answer. Can’t.

Because he bites.

Right where your neck curves into your shoulder, teeth grazing, then pressing down—not enough to leave a mark, not yet—but enough to make your back arch.

“Thought you hated me,” you whisper, voice shaking.

He grins against your skin. “Still do. Hate how much I want you. Hate how fuckin’ wet you get for me. Hate how you looked at me in that hallway like you’d let me fuck you right there if I told you to.”

You whimper. And that’s when he grabs your thighs and yanks you down the bed so your ass is on the edge and your legs fall open, spread for him like a goddamn feast.

“Ohhh, yeah,” he mutters, dragging his gaze down your body. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ cunt. So wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nod. You’re fucking drenched.

He kneels between your legs and doesn’t even tease—not this time. His mouth is on you like a man starved, lips wrapping around your clit, tongue working slow at first, then hard, then filthy. He’s groaning into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, and you’re moaning back, hands fisting in his hair, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

When you cum, it’s sudden and violent, hips stuttering against his mouth, head thrown back. He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming, until you’re whining too much with your thighs squeezing around his ears.

And still—still—he kisses the inside of your thigh like he’s trying to soothe you. Like this is romantic. Like this isn’t hate-sex born from weeks of biting tension and verbal warfare.

Then he stands, unzipping his jeans, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“You’re gonna take it like a good girl,” he says, voice gone dark and low, “or I’m gonna fuck your mouth till you do.”

You reach for him before he finishes the sentence.

Your hand wraps around him—hot, heavy, already leaking against your palm—and his entire body reacts like you’ve shocked him, muscles twitching, a strangled sound caught in his throat.

“Fuckin’—” he breathes, watching you through half-lidded eyes like you’ve got him under some sort of spell. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m gonna come before I even get inside you.”

You don’t stop. Can’t. His cock is thick and flushed, veins taut under your touch, and the way his hips jerk when you stroke him makes you feel drunk on power. You swipe your thumb over the head, slick with precum, and he groans—deep, guttural, wrecked.

“Gotta—fuck, hang on.” He fumbles for his jeans, pulling out a crumpled foil square and slapping it into your hand. “Put it on for me, yeah? Want those pretty fingers to do somethin’ useful.”

You tear it open with shaky hands and roll the condom down his length, slow and deliberate. His abs tense. He doesn’t look away for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You almost laugh—almost—but then he’s pushing you back again, crawling over you like a storm, mouth dragging down your neck, your collarbone, your tits. He mouths at one breast while his hand squeezes the other, rough and greedy, tongue flicking over your nipple until your back arches up into him.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low, breath hot against your skin.

You nod.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your voice is barely more than a whimper. “Yes. Please. Fuck me.”

That’s all it takes.

He lines himself up and pushes in—slow at first, dragging it out, making sure you feel every inch—and you swear you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and he groans above you like he’s just been let inside Heaven.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “So fuckin’ wet. You been like this every time we argued? All those nights yellin’ at me, stormin’ off, pretendin’ you hated me—was this pussy beggin’ for me the whole time?”

You try to respond but he rolls his hips and your words dissolve into a moan.

He sets a pace—deep, deliberate strokes that rock you up the mattress, his hands braced on either side of your head, eyes dark and full of filth. Every thrust makes your breath stutter, your fingers dig into his back, your thighs tighten around his hips.

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me how bad you wanted it.”

“I—I hated you.”

He grins, hips snapping hard. “Still do, yeah?”

Another thrust. You cry out.

“No,” you admit, panting. “Fuck, no—I want you, Cook.”

His mouth finds yours again, this time less brutal, more desperate. Like something’s cracking. Like something’s shifting. But neither of you stop long enough to name it.

Not when he grabs your thigh and hooks it over his shoulder.

Not when you scream his name as you cum for the second time, clenching so hard he has to grit his teeth to hold back.

Not even when he spills into the condom with a groan that sounds almost like your name.

The room doesn’t settle so much as hang—steam rising off both your bodies like you’ve just come out of the fucking ocean, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex and something worse. Something deeper.

You’re gasping under him, one arm thrown across your forehead, the other still hooked lazily around his neck. Your legs feel ruined, your thighs trembling, your cunt aching in that deeply-sated, shameless kind of way. Used. Filled. Split open and dragged back together by force.

And he hasn’t moved.

Cook’s still buried inside you, softening only slightly, forehead resting on your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. His chest is heaving, skin burning, and his fingers are locked tight around your waist like if he lets go, you’ll vanish.

You feel him swallow. Hear the rasp in his voice when he finally mutters, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You want to laugh, but all you can manage is a hoarse, breathy, “Yeah.”

His lips drag along your collarbone. Then your neck. Then higher, to the hinge of your jaw.

“That wasn’t normal,” he murmurs, like he’s stating a medical fact. “That was…somethin’ else.”

Your throat tightens. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

He lets out a low, wrecked chuckle against your skin. “Nah, wouldn’t dream of it.”

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t crack another joke. Just lies there, forehead pressed to your cheek, breathing you in like he’s trying to memorize it.

Eventually, you clear your throat and shift, flinching when he finally, finally pulls out.

You feel it. The wet slide. The aftershock. The ache.

He tosses the condom with a practiced flick into the bin and flops down beside you, one arm over his eyes.

Silence stretches.

You stare up at the ceiling. Your heartbeat’s still slowing, your body still humming.

Then:

“…You and Effy,” you say. It’s quiet. Not accusing. But not casual, either. “Was it ever…?”

His arm twitches. “Nah.”

You glance over.

Cook’s still staring at the ceiling, but there’s something tense in his jaw. “We messed around a couple times. Long time ago. Didn’t mean nothin’.”

You nod.

“Does it bother you?” he asks suddenly, turning to face you.

You blink. “No. I just didn’t wanna…overstep.”

His eyes flick down your bare body, lingering at the bruises blooming on your neck, your inner thighs, the raw edge of your bitten lip.

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips all the same.

He grins. “You’re cute when you try to pretend this didn’t just change everythin’.”

“Did it?”

“Dunno,” he says, reaching out to trace a finger along your jaw. “But I’ll let you know next time I try to fuck someone else and can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You scoff. “Christ.”

“You love it.”

You hate how right he is. How your heart jumps anyway. How, even after everything, you already want him again.

You shift, pulling the blanket up. He tucks it around your shoulders like muscle memory. Like instinct.

Neither of you say anything else.

Not yet.

Not until the next disaster hits.

And oh, it will.

But for now, you let it linger—your skin marked with his fingerprints, your throat sore from his name, your mouth still tasting him like a secret.

And him?

He looks at you like you’re the best bad decision he’s ever made.

And he’s made a lot.