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murdockparker · 1 year ago

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Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different.

This afternoon she walked in.

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor.

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl.

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?”

She knew his name.

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him.

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep.

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did.

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange.

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more.

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod.

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump.

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on.

“You seem tense,” she noticed.

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied.

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months.

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her.

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough.

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes.

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips.

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster.

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more.

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy.

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right?

She had called him pretty boy.

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins.

Maybe it was a date.

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished.

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later.

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated.

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around.

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed.

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for.

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands.

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well.

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town.

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing.

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted.

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets.

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big.

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk.

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood.

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington Imagines #okay fine twist my arm this is loosely based on the btr song of the same name #can't blame a girl for finding inspiration everywhere #does it have a plot? no #do I like pining and love-sick steve? yes

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sapphic-bats · 11 days ago

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Maybe thinking of writing a fic where Mike ends up meeting his and Will’s D&D characters… and realizes that they’re in love there too.

Reply if you wanna be notified when I post some chapters!

#we can have it in this universe so why shouldn’t we have it in our own?#stranger things #byler #st4 #st5 #mike wheeler #will byers #will the wise #also maybe sorta kinda the plot is inspired by EPIC’s music #what’s EPIC you ask???#epic #epic the musical #byler fic #miwi

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shuruzy · 8 months ago

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Touring Veritas Tower. Look he's been alive for over 2000 years, he's had a LOT of time to read.

(this au finally has a tag so I can organize it… even though any details of this au are scattered at best and the tag is just 'elf dragon' shortened🧎)

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #hsr ratio #if anyone has a question about this au i'd be honored. just know i'd be scrounging an answer together 80% of the time #except for an overarching plot there is really not one. not yet. maybe. like i've had ideas but they haven't stuck #its another 'rpg inspired' setting which im about to start becoming a thing with me at this rate after jotwg + this #xcept this is stranger to describe as 'rpg inspired' bc well... hsr is an rpg already #'old school rpg inspired???'#hsr eldr au #dragon ratio & his BIG ASS TOWER HOUSE bc he sometimes walks around it in his true form

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lighthouseas · 1 year ago

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lowkey Thinking abt a st au inspired by mean girls + how that would play out....wanna write it but i know people would get mad lol

#simply bc like. some people would be a little ooc #and id probably be called a misogynist if i put max as the role of regina #angela would also work i suppose but then she'd need a karen and a gretchen to accompany her + also i think max would make more sense #bc she'd already have history w everyone and ive always wanted to explore madwheeIer more lol (if i put mike as aaron)#will would be cady #janis and damian would either be robin and steve or lucas and dustin. cant decide bc on one hand robin is a lesbian and it would mean more #-girls in the au but on the other hand lucas and dustin would make more sense as being will's friends + lucas could have history with max #-(regina)#also i think i would put gretchen=nancy and karen=el #and obviously a lot of the plot points would be changed lol it would be more Inspired by mean girls than a direct reimagining of it with th #-st characters. bc like. will would be the main character lol. and the main couple (mike/will) would be mlm.#idk. thinking thoughts. i have ideas in my brain thats for sure #bee.txt #stranger things

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Haunting You - G.S.

Synopsis. A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, king! Gojo, vampire AU, he’s actually ÍNSANE, royalty AU, arranged marriages, creampíes, breéding, fated m��tes, FÉRAL down bad Gojo, mentions of bIood and kílling, bíting, óral (fem receiving), spítting, marks (a LOT), fíngering, pórn with plot tbh, overstím, ínnapropriate use of powers, jealous! Gojo, slight inspiration from Persephone and Hades, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 15.8k (HUH???)

A/N. Was listening to Haunted by Beyoncé, and my mind went “ooo vampires.” Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

In all your years being carefully primed to take over the throne, there have only been two rules you were raised under:

You live by the crown, and you will die by the crown. No matter what.

To stop the vampires - if your father, the king, fails to contain the bloody trail of killings before his own inevitable death, you have to. Or, more according to those tedious meetings with the table of elders, your husband will have to.

And it seems as if they were well and fully intent on enforcing that last rule as of late - with sharply increasing numbers of attacks on your local towns, the public was growing restless - and so was the royal court.

You weren’t doing any better either - but for a wholly different reason.

Maybe it was paranoia, but these days, you found yourself constantly catching a flash of crystal blue in the corner of your eye. Or hearing a sweet, sweet whisper in your ear deep at night. Maybe even a soft run of fingers down your spine as you were readied for yet another ball - hands much too large to be any of your ladies-in-waiting.

Like something was watching.

Waiting.

“And then I- your highness, are you listening?”

That familiar, grating voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re gasping in embarrassment as you turn back to the prattling man in front of you.

“My apologies, Lord Naoya.” you smile tightly, desperate to finish up yet another conversation about his latest cavalry expeditions. Nodding dismissively, “Just tired, please continue with your ah- wonderful tales.”

But of course, when he starts right back from the very beginning to “cover the key points you missed”, your stomach turns when you realize that you won’t be escaping any time soon. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

God, future suitors your ass. You’d been taught that there’s no such company as “bad company” when you’re an heir to a kingdom, but this has been the fourth royal ball this month - and the biggest one yet. The fourth night you had to listen to another uptight lord show off his sparse battle medals, or another elder snide about how you’d be useless against the dangers of vampires.

You knew it was likely some coping mechanism with the grim deaths this week, but surely the nobles were tired of all this silly dancing? You sure were.

Gauzy dress just a bit too tight, sighs just a bit too loud than was permitted for the princess, you let your gaze wander across the brilliant ballroom. Those intricate gowns, the huge reflective wall, those little pastries you really wish you could walk away from this conversation and-

Blue.

Crystal blue.

“Wait! Did you see-” you startle, and it disappears as fast as it appeared. Your heavy skirts sway as you whirl around to uselessly track that odd burst of color, “Did you see that?”

“I know!” Naoya gasps, making you turn your head in excitement. “The light reflects off my medal so gorgeously! Oh, and this one-”

Dammit.

All through your life, it was this same color that’d been flitting occasionally through your vision, now haunting you almost every day.

You didn’t know where to look to find that familiar blue again - and you didn’t want to stand here waiting to find out. At the very least, your ears have definitely been assaulted with enough talk about horses and how “absolutely enormous” Lord Naoya’s weaponry at the Zenin Estate was.

Compensating, you muse.

The thought helps you plaster on a grin to your face, humming in a saccharine-sweet tone, “It pains me to cut through, my lord.” It really didn’t. “And I’d love to chat more later, but I think I hear my lady-in-waiting calling for me.”

He sputters, breathing out a few profanities under his breath that you catch. An arm raising as if to keep you in place, “Now, wait a minute-”

You’re angling your body expertly to make your dash. Batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, “Oh? What was that?” you cup your ear. “I hear her again- I really do apologize, but feel free to recount your valiant um- fairy tales in a letter.”

“But your father-”

Not waiting to hear the rest of his response, you barely even bother with a polite curtsy before determinedly weaving your way through the stuffy ballroom. Nodding by the nobles greeting you, waving past the throng of young lords that wanted to reel you into more conversation. Your satiny feet taking you anywhere but here - anywhere but where you could feel the still, heavy gaze of something burning into your back as you escaped.

You just prayed that it was only a miffed Naoya and nothing else.

It was around this time that the orchestra struck up another upbeat waltz, and with most people pairing off on the dance floor, barely anyone noticed you tip-toeing out of the ballroom.

“God-” you’re letting out a sigh of relief when you reach the long hallway, rubbing at your throbbing temples. “The next ball they host, m’gonna conveniently disappear, I swear.”

You didn’t care enough for what matchmaking would happen in the future anyway, no matter what the elders may tell you.

Your ballgown swishes with every urgent step through the quiet, dimly-lit corridors. Maybe a bit too quiet.

Strange. You knew that not many nobles would be wandering around the palace during a ball but, surely you can’t be the only one here? Where were the guards?

Just then, a soft winter breeze puffs against your left ear - and you inhale sharply. “Wha- hello?” you shudder, gaze darting around. “Anyone there?” But when only silence greets you, you’re struck with the sudden thought that the windows along the hallway were closed.

Where did the wind come from?

The realization has you taut with goosebumps pricking at your skin, your pace increasing ever-so-slightly. Gulping, you round the corner quickly, making a beeline for the closest haven you could find - the library.

Ducking past the towering stone archway, you hastily slam the door closed. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside. With silvery moonlight ribbons filtering in through the curtained windows, you could just barely make out the rows upon rows of books you’d pestered your father into lining. Surrounded by heavyset tables, and your favorite, cushioned armchair. Luxurious, yet completely dwarfed when seating the lone silhouette-

“If this is an attack, then I surely don’t mind.”

“Fuck-” you scream, reflexively grabbing the nearest book spine you could reach to throw in the direction of the shadow. “Show yourself.”

Somehow, it’s as if the book bounces off an invisible forcefield, plopping down unceremoniously onto the velvety carpet right in front of the tall figure.

“And here I thought princesses usually curtseyed.” that deep, honeyed voice cuts right through your heavy breathing. He makes a move to get up - languid, and torturous, as if he enjoyed your agonizing suspense. “Well, maybe I do prefer being pelted by a- hey, that doesn’t mean pick up another book!”

In a split-second, you were brandishing a weighty encyclopedia this time - holding it firmly behind your head in a ready stance to throw once again.

“Show yourself.”

The man sighs, stepping into a channel of low light. It illuminated his stature - taller than you’d thought, towering well above most of the generals in the royal court. Muscled, yet lean - powerful, the thought strikes you. Magnetizing.

Someone from outside the kingdom, you observe, otherwise you’d have remembered that cloudy white hair, strands falling over a strange, black blindfold stretched across the upper half of his face. Leaving you only a set of high cheekbones, and a pert, pretty mouth to admire.

One that curls into such a mischievous smirk of neat pearly whites, and a tiny dimple digging into his cheek. “Now, I’ve never had anyone this eager to see me.” He drops into a courteous bow at the waist, expensive blue fabrics rippling. “From the North kingdom, Satoru, at your service, princess.”

Your hand falters - partially because of the heavy weight, partially because you recognised that gold “G” insignia in the middle of this stranger- Satoru’s uniform. The Gojo family.

That mysterious, estranged kingdom from the Northern part of the country that hadn’t been seen since you were young. You’d heard stories of them - everyone in this vast country had, it was impossible not to. Of their cruel winters and even crueler king, how blood stained every room in his palace. It was rumored he was a monster, and yet, no one ever saw his face - if they did, they never lived to tell the tale.

You knew your father had invited the king to every single ball out of diplomatic obligation, but he’d never attended. Never even bothered to respond.

So who was this?

“No one. Just a lowly attendant accompanying my king, your highness.” you’re jolting when he purrs, a brow quirking at just how he knew what you were thinking. “The question ah- showed on your face, my apologies.”

Finding your voice, “Um, I apologize, too, Satoru-” You note the lack of a last name, “-for the book. I can’t imagine being hit with Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet was a very warm welcome.” And like a little truce, you’re placing down the encyclopedia in your hand. Flashing him your most practiced smile, “I bet you’re hiding out here for the same reasons as me, then.”

That draws out a pretty laugh from him, bubbly and boyish. “Mhm, the ladies just refuse to leave you alone, too?”

“Well, more like the lords there.”

He hums, something that sends a chill down your spine. Words just a little strained, “Not much for bragging about horses?”

And suddenly, you get the urge to snark back, huffing in a way you know your preparational teacher would faint at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather face a vampire than listen to Naoya and the “absolutely enormous” weaponry he uses to-”

“-compensate!”

“-compensate.” the two of you finish at the same time. “I like this place a lot better, it’s quiet- though…” your voice trails off in wonder. “It’s strange, guests aren’t supposed to be allowed in the library unsupervised.” His jaw clenches when your eyes sweep him, “We are supposed to have a few guards here but I don’t know where-”

All of a sudden, it’s like you’re being splashed with cold water. And your words are dying on your tongue when the room drops a few degrees in temperature.

Satoru is unnervingly still, yet he catches onto your slight shiver. “This damned wind, am I right?” And he’s gesturing at the windows with his head. The closed windows. Words tumbling quickly from those pink lips now, “Anyways- why don’t you sit down-” He prowls towards you, slow, confident. Large hands rest at your arms, they’re pale, surprisingly cold - guiding you easily to sit on the unoccupied armchair. “-since m’being nice enough to let you hide out here.”

His words drip with tease, and you still couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they’d be twinkling. No one ever dared to speak to you this way - it was always either thinly-veiled condescension or fear towards royalty.

Surprisingly, you didn’t mind.

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Yeah? Well what do I owe you in return for that, Satoru?”

His lips part, as if not expecting this response. Before letting out another sharp cackle at your expense, “Well, why don’t you-” You can’t tear your eyes away from his magnetic figure when Satoru begins unbuttoning his flowing coat to reveal a snow-white shirt underneath. Wrapping it snug around your shoulders in one, fluid motion, a hand of his tilts your head towards him. “-give me your soul?”

The Gojo emblem burns into your back, and Satoru’s deep, almost raspy tone rings in your ears. It sounded like a joke - but looking into his ethereal features, there was no trace of a grin on what you could see of it. And once again, you’re struck by the pure power radiating off of him.

You hoped it was a joke.

“S-soul’s not for sale.” you manage to choke out, trying to make it look like you weren’t breathing in his metallic, peppermint scent. Heady. Pulling the soft fabric tighter around your cold body, “Steep price for a hideout, don’t you think?”

“S’a discount for you, flower.” his chilling breath fans your face. Letting out hushed, “Heh, you should see the prices I charge others.”

You’re reeling, face burning, “Flower?”

“Because you’re shaking like one, see?” The pads of his fingers move from under your chin to trace up, up, up the goosebumps on your exposed arms. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Hypnotic.

And his steps are soundless as he walks over behind you, the moonlight giving him an angelic halo. Haunting, almost. “And you’re just as gorgeous, like a wild rose. Way too gorgeous for the fuckin’ bastards out there, might I add, princess.”

The nerve!

Heart pounding, you turn around to- call him out for his disrespect? Snap back? Accept the compliment?

You don’t know - and you don’t get to find out, either. Because before your eyes can search for Satoru’s mysterious figure, the door to the library is slamming open with a deafening bang!

“Ah! There you are!” your lady-in-waiting’s relieved voice floods your ears. And she’s barging in with no comment about your sudden stiffness, or that foreign coat around your shoulders. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, your highness. His majesty is just about to make his speech of the night and needs you there.”

Shit, out of all the scandals.

“I- I can explain.” You’re desperately trying to catch Satoru’s eye to make up an excuse for why you’re alone with a strange man away from the ball, shooting from your seat to look around the library. “We’re just-”

The suddenly empty library.

“Yes yes, I understand that the balls aren’t exactly your favorite pastime.” The oblivious girl is pushing you towards the door, brown eyes narrowed. “But we’ve got to get going now.”

Despite her wrangling you outside, you manage to sneak a few glances backwards, straining to see if he was hiding in the shadows. Only to be met with a now-rumpled armchair and the still, dark bookshelves. As bare as if Satoru never existed - the only proof of his existence being a sad copy of Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet lying on the ground.

And yet, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you.

You feel it all through the short walk back to the ballroom, Nobara’s excited chatter about how finely your all-new coat was made filtering through one ear and out the next. Even when you reach the edge of the dance floor, even when you feel every single other eye in the room on you - you feel it.

“Um, Nobara.” you whisper, discreetly shuffling the coat off your shoulders. “Please take this to my chambers for me.”

The younger girl is positively bursting at the seams, murmuring conspiratorially to you, “So is this where you were? With who- The “G” what does that-”

“Ah! My daughter!” Saved by your father’s booming voice - though, you wouldn’t consider it too much of a salvation when you’re immediately being whisked away to the high platform your father’s throne was seated on. His arms spread wide to greet you in a hug despite stiff etiquette.

“You’re late.” he whispers in your ear.

It’s all you can do to manage out a quiet, “S-Sorry.”

Without another word, he’s addressing the congregation in the middle of the dance ballroom again. More ruler than father at this very moment. “My people, we are gathered here today to dance, to sing, to forget about the horrors happening in our beloved nation.” To large murmurs of agreement he continues, “And despite it all, it’s a reality we must all live with. Me, especially, as your king, have a duty to fulfill.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder where this is all going - your father never brought up vampires during a time like this. Never.

Clearing his throat, “And as we all know, I’m not getting any younger here, unfortunately. Which is why-” He claps his hands once, and three figures - one of which being Naoya, amongst two other nobles you briefly recognized - step forward from the crowd. “Ah- there should be one more- Anyway, after thorough consideration with the table of elders, we have decided to go forward with the betrothal process for my dear daughter here. With the joining of hands will not only be the joining of kingdoms - but the joining of arms, and our people shall prevail as one over the vampires.”

You think you might stop breathing, eyes burning and trained firmly on the ground. This had been a topic of conversation - well, more the elders conversing while you skipped out on every meeting once this discussion was brought up.

You knew this would happen. You knew. But now? At this very moment? All you can do is stand there and listen while he rattles off.

“I know four of the- erm, three of the most eligible young suitors of the land will do their utmost to vie for her heart - and her hand. No easy task I tell you.” Your fists clench, head swimming. “And in a week’s time, we will hold the grand ball to announce my successor.”

Shit - a week. A week.

Somewhere in your line of vision you see - you feel that spark of blue. And you’re raising your head to cheers echoing from all around the room, and still no sign of where those eyes are.

“The next time we meet, will be with the future king and queen!”

Fuck.

---

That night was spent with a few too many tears, and a consoling Nobara at your side all until daybreak. And if you held onto that comforting, peppermint-scented coat through it all, well, you were only glad that you seemed too pitiful for her to question it.

Feeling much more composed and only slightly less bitter about the prospect of being married off to a stuck-up noble you didn’t know, you made your way to breakfast the next morning. An affair usually spent with your father, or in the palace gardens - but this time, surrounded by four suitors under the guise of getting to know you. Sizing each other up, maybe.

“Ah, your highness, good morning!” you sweetly reciprocate the greetings once you’re escorted into the dining room, taking your seat at the very end of the long, mahogany table.

Sighing you take in the scene - on your left was Lord Naoya from last night, the same sharp grins and shifty eyes as you remembered. Seated beside him was the young duke of the Kashimo clan - hair striking, his battle staff laid out next to him on the table. Intimidating.

But nothing in comparison to the hulking man on your right, it seemed as if his uniform was on the verge of bursting. Face sullen, letting his pink locks fall into place - Sukuna, you think you remember.

“Your highness.” Ichiji bows, taking his place supervising the breakfast. “I am afraid our guests from the Northern kingdom will not be able to attend this breakfast today. He sends his deepest apologies. B-but-” His face-paled, looking scarred for life. “-he did have his um- attendant send this note-”

You’re gratefully taking the creamy scrap of paper before the words have even left Ichiji’s mouth, flipping it over to reveal slanted, beautiful calligraphy - Apologies for the sudden departure last night, flower. And I hope you forgive my king for not being here to deter the talk of horses - duty holds both man and beast from freedom. Worry not, we will be seeing your sweet smile again soon. But, for now, give those three bastards a rude gesture from me.

You giggle, tucking away the note. A tiny pang of disappointment hitting you out of nowhere at the lack of that gold “G” emblem anywhere along the table - and more importantly, the white-haired enigma that would follow.

All three men were glowering, yet begrudgingly plowing on with their conversation from before as you settled. Not having the energy to contribute, you listened in.

“-this would never have happened in my estate.”

“Oh buzz off-” Kashimo interrupts Naoya, before throwing a guilty look your way at his crass words. As if you didn’t say worse. “Apologies, your highness. As I was saying-” he turns back to the man. “Don’t think we haven’t heard of those vampire killings in your court that you tried to cover up, your defense isn’t as impenetrable as you want it to seem, Naoya.”

That causes you to raise your brow - and evidently, Sukuna’s as well. “That so? Little fraud, aren’t ya, Zenin?”

The shorter man sputters indignantly, “You- you little- you call me a fraud and yet you’re the only one who didn’t bother to help investigate last night? Got something to hide, oh king-of-curses?”

“Tch, shut up.” That little nickname ticked something off in Sukuna, and his grip on his delicate fork tightens. Smirk intentionally bared to piss off, “It’s just because when the princess marries me, she won’t have to worry about vampires attacking guards in the middle of a ball.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah right, you and what army because I have an absolutely enormous-”

“What do you mean?” Your smooth voice cuts through their bickering, and all three men freeze, gazes snapping to you as if they’d already forgotten you were there. “I didn’t hear about any killings last night.”

If you thought they were tense before then you weren’t prepared for right now - shoulders raising in surrender, for all their blabbering, not a word was uttered after your accusatory question. After a few beats of silence, you scoff in frustration, turning towards your escort, squirming and avoiding your pointed stare at the very corner of the room.

“Ichiji.” The man looked like he could positively give anything to blend into the meticulously hand-painted flowers on the wall. “Ichiji, tell me what happened.”

“P-princess!” he yelps, adjusting his glasses. “I- I’m afraid the king said- please I can’t-”

“Ichiji…”

“P-please don’t banish me-”

You’re on your feet now, cornering the poor man. Mentally, you make a note to give him a raise. Eyes narrowing, “I won’t banish you, but as the future queen I have a right to know, don’t I?”

“...”

“...please?”

And the remaining men had been watching with morbid fascination as you worked your magic. They were already aware that the frail attendant was the weakest link out of them all, but what they certainly did not expect was exactly how weak.

It only took a single bat of your lashes before his pale cheeks colored an almost-concerning pink. Eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment, as the words spilled from his lips. Neverending and slurring with haste as he speaks in one breath, “Th-three of the guards stationed near the outer corridor and library wing were found killed by a vampire last night before you retired for the night, your highness. Their b-bodies were disposed of, and this in combination with all the recent killings was why the king hurried the announcement for your engagement. B-but, his majesty decreed that this never be relayed to you in order to keep you in high spirits after the betrothal eep-!”

“Is- is that so?” you breathe, eyes wide. Taking one last look at the four speechless men, before walking out of the tall doorway. “I seem to have lost my appetite, I will be heading for my chambers now. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, my lords.”

Shit shit shit - how did you not notice?

Maybe you walked right past the killer last night and didn’t even realize - who knows what could’ve been hiding in the shadows. How did you not realize? How did you not see?

Just then, a thought strikes you - did Satoru see?

---

It’s one of the whirlwind of questions ringing around in your mind even by the time you hear a steady knock on your door. Jolting you upright from where you splayed out on your plush, silken bed, rows upon rows of books on vampires haphazardly surrounding you.

Peering out of your large window, you notice the hues of pink and red painting the sky, a big red sun just dipping below the horizon - shit, when did you even fall asleep?

“Come in.” you answer, voice scratchy. Rubbing away the sleep in your eyes, you could barely make out the hazy outline of Ichiji standing in your doorway.

“Ah- your highness, I apologize for waking you up.” he bows. “But master Kashimo will be headed out for a late-night hunt at this very moment, and requested your presence shall you wish it. He noticed that you seemed upset at breakfast, and wanted to make it up to you.”

You take a moment to mull over the question - it certainly was rude for you to just ignore your guests all day. And considering you might just be marrying one of them, it wouldn’t kill anyone to actually get to know them.

“Alright.” you reply, voice even. And your answer seems to surprise the other man, “Tell Tsukumo to get my gear ready, I will be down as soon as I change.”

“Y-yes, princess! I will call for Nobara to help you get dressed.”

As the door shut once more behind him, you threw off your heavy blanket- and your coat? Satoru’s coat, which had evidently been draped around your upper half. Heart stuttering, you didn’t remember putting that on before…

Hm, you had to thank Nobara for that later.

---

Hunting with Kashimo was, unexpectedly, dull.

“So…” you drag your words, trying to fill the tense silence. “What is it that we’re actually hunting for-”

“Shhh-” you hear for about the third time this past hour. A brow of yours quirking at the way it seemed like the two of you had been wandering the woods belonging to your kingdom’s estate for hours, and you still didn’t know what it was you were supposed to be looking for.

Alright, perhaps hunting wasn’t the best opportunity to get to know your potential future husband.

“My lord…” you call out warily, already aware of the duke’s affinity for hunting. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, after all, the stars are out already and the moon is so bright.”

He barely even turns to look back at you, “No time. The woods belonging to your kingdom have some of the rarest species of cursed animals in this country. I must make the most of this week in that case, your highness.”

You brighten at the closest shred of conversation in so long. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard! I also hear they-”

“Shh!”

So close.

Letting out a resigned sigh, your eyes glaze over as you watch Kashimo trace his thick fingers over animal tracks on the dirt. Suddenly, gesturing for you to follow him as he sped off in another direction.

It doesn’t take too long for him to stray out of sight. Meanwhile, your legs lag behind in protest - and pettiness, you realize. Grumbling to yourself about how you’d rather have watched paint dry as you’re sure the elders often did. Well, you look at the now-barren pathway, at least now you didn’t have to worry about someone shushing you all the ti-

“AHH!”

And then, all of a sudden - it felt like you were the hunted.

It’s like every bit of blood drains from your body at the blood-curdling scream. Grip tightening on your bow, you’re jolting at the direction it came from - where did Kashimo disappear off to again?

Yet, for how much you knew your kingdom like the back of your hand, it’s so dark. The moon barely peeking through gloomy gray wisps of clouds that you don’t know where exactly you’re running to - just that something was tugging. Reeling you in. No destination in sight until you’re crashing face-first into- a wall?

“Hey, flower, where are ya running off to this late?”

Your hairs raise, something visceral in your body jolting.

Satoru - blindfold and all.

“Wh- Satoru thank God you’re here.” you gasp, looking nervously over his broad shoulders. “I heard a scream, and I’m worried about Kashimo because he went somewhere over there and-” You’re pointing aimlessly in his direction, before clasping a hand around Satoru’s defined bicep. Tugging, “You have to help me, that idiot even insisted on no guards because of disturbing the wildlife and I’m so worried and-”

Before you can react, big strong arms are enveloping you. And you’re suddenly hit with the smell of peppermint and Satoru - something so sickly sweet tinging the air, it makes you droop limply into his firm hold. Your skin burns when he breathes in, deep.

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, princess.” he hums, pulling you deeper against his chest. Until you could feel every dip and curve of his pectorals. “You must’ve been scared, right?” At your hesitant nod, “You did good. You did perfect- in fact. Especially putting up with that pretentious bastard.”

The shocked laugh that drags from your throat has Satoru sighing contentedly, an almost-pained grunt leaving him as he pulls away ever-so-slightly. You felt much the same.

“S’alright, I’m pretty sure it was some animal.” he soothes. He clasps your hands with his, running a damp thumb over your knuckles. “I saw him trudging about disturbing more wildlife over there.”

You breath catches in your chest at just how close Satoru was now, his breath mingling with yours. Pretty plump lips so close - too close. Yet you’re leaning in closer, like you’re drawn by a thread. “Are you sure? Maybe we should-” You gasp, eyes widening when you look down at where your hands were intertwined - red. Or, what you assumed to be red, a saturated, patchy stain on your hands where Satoru’s met yours. He stiffens when he follows your gaze, trying to pull away, but you only hold your grip harder. “Satoru, are you bleeding? Or is this-”

“Not mine.” his voice is hard - and for a second you have to wonder whether this is really the same Satoru. And you swear there’s a little tremor in his words as he explains, “You see, I went out on a little hunt myself, flower.”

Even if Satoru didn’t have his blindfold on, you’re sure his face would’ve been unreadable. That almost-familiar grin of his is strained. Too strained. Yet, his movements are unwavering as he tries to wipe away the blood. “Must’ve forgotten to wipe down, I apologize for sullying your hands, princess.”

“Let me-” you mutter, taking a hold of the coat around your shoulders to wipe away the blood. Uncaring for what you were dirtying at the moment. “I swear you need to take better care of yourself, Satoru. Seriously.”

And you didn’t see them - but somehow you could just feel the amusement dancing in Satoru’s eyes. Raising your confused gaze up to meet his, “What?”

He only flashes you a knowing grin, “S’jus’, you’re wearing my coat, your highness.”

Your movements pause, mouth gaping open while you try to pathetically spout out an excuse. “I- I didn’t mean to get this coat dirty, oh my god. I didn’t think-”

“S’alright.” he inches in even closer. A smirk grazing those sinful lips of his, “I actually prefer it like that, you look like mine.” Taking a deep breath, “You smell like mine.”

And before you can ask about his cryptic message, he’s placing a hand at the back of your waist. A very improper hand that would definitely make the elders gasp in scandal. “We should head back to the palace, it’s getting late. I will escort you, m’sure that born hunter of yours is already halfway back too.”

“Carry me.” you blurt out, your body aching to feel more of him. And before you can retract your words - probably sputter a few apologies, you’re being cradled by a smug Satoru. One hand under your knees, the other supporting you like you’re weightless.

“Heh, a princess carry for a princess.”

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble with embarrassment when he walks forward slowly, your legs swaying in midair. “Want my soul for this as well?”

And you can feel Satoru’s muscles ripple, you can feel the way his breath hitches in his chest ever-so-slightly. Rumbling as he drawls, “More than you’d know.”

“S’that a discount, too? You still didn’t tell me what you charge others.” you quip, remembering the conversation from the night before.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, your highness.”

You’re quirking a brow, something hot churning at the pit of your stomach at that ragged tone to his words. “I’m onto you, y’know.” You stare up at his clenched jaw, highlighted in the dim moonlight. His long, pale neck, the crevices of his blindfold. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if you could peek under. “Onto you and your absurdly high prices, Satoru.”

He breathes out a shuddering, overly-dramatic shudder. “Mhm, flower, I should be worried.” Before looking up at the sky - and you wondered just how well he could see through his blindfold. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

That night, you dreamt of long-winded star-gazing and blue, blue eyes.

---

“What do you mean Lord Kashimo has left for his kingdom?” you hiss, feeling a faint stab of offense. Seriously, were you that awful at hunting? “He didn’t make any indication of it last night.”

And if your careless words made Nobara beam with slight embarrassment, you didn’t take note of it - too caught up in what you’d just heard. Enough so that it takes her next words to bring you out of your stupor, “Exactly what I said, your highness. The lordship and his court have all vacated their wing, leaving behind only a letter of forgiveness for ending the festivities early.”

“Still.” you murmur petulantly. Setting aside another one of your books on Vampire: Mates, Murder, and More. “It’s strange, I thought he was here for the hunting sprees, if not for me.” Your tiara weighs heavy on your head as you turn to your young lady-in-waiting. “I would like for Ichiji to catch up to Kashimo’s traveling party, make sure they’re safe, and send them my well wishes.”

Ha! Take that elders - you’d show them you’re fully capable of holding diplomatic relations as a ruler.

“As you wish, princess. Additionally, this-” She’s holding out a small pouch of blue fabric that you’d never seen before. “-was found by your bedside when cleaning and I wished to give it back safely.” Before her polite smile drops into a much more devious smirk, “A gift from one of the suitors, perhaps~?”

You gesture for her to hand it over, the silk casing soft under your touch. Detailed. One-of-a-kind, from what your tedious lessons in the history of fabrics had taught you. You didn’t recognize the patterns sewn onto it as something typical for your kingdom - or any other you’d learned about, really.

“M’not sure.” you whisper. Opening the little purse to reveal a flash of gold - a necklace. Thin and intricate, holding a sapphire pendant in the shape of an eye.

Blue.

A blue you knew too well - the same one that peeked out from every dark corner, that you saw before you slept at night. The one that’s been by your side for years.

Constant. Now coming to haunt you.

Chills run down your spine, and your fingers tremble at how life-like it looked. Burning into your very soul.

“Would you like for me to help you put it on?” Nobara asks, mistaking your shock for difficulty. And yet, you don’t correct her - body moving before your mind to simply nod.

There was only one clasp on the chain - leaving you to worry about the fit. But when it was hooked around your neck, you found that it fit you so perfectly. Like it was tailored to you - and only you. Why was it so perfect?

Why did it capture the exact color you’d been chasing after your whole life - since before you’d even formed memories? Since you were nothing but a surly, teary-eyed little girl that was crying about the dark, babbling about that “blue flash” that no one else ever seemed to see.

“If that will be all, your highness. I will take my leave.” With a nod and a low bow, you’re left all by yourself in your sprawling chambers. Wondering, somewhat in amusement, whether you’d be let off this marriage pact if all the other suitors suddenly left as well. Hell, maybe you could marry whoever got you this necklace since they apparently know you so well.

And you swear - maybe it was the fatigue from trekking last night, maybe it was the stress from the past month - but you swear the wind picks up in its chilly bite. Howling just low enough that it sounds like a deep, taunting cackle.

The necklace doesn’t leave its palace around your neck for the next few days. You still didn’t know who’d gifted it to you - right inside your chambers for god’s sake - and if either of the two suitors remaining knew, they didn’t make any indication of it either.

Three, technically, but it seemed that the more the days passed, the less you saw of the mysterious king of the Northern kingdom.

While Sukuna and Naoya had taken it upon themselves to woo you by joining you in your daily activities, he hadn’t even shown his face to you yet. You were sure your father would’ve had him humiliated and thrown out of the palace already if he wasn’t afraid for his life.

But you didn’t mind, because you saw enough of Satoru to make up for King Gojo and Kashimo. The man seemed well and fully intent to stick by your side, talking yourselves well into the night.

It was on a night like this - sprawled out along the plush armchairs in the very library you’d met, only a few days after Kashimo’s departure - you asked, “Satoru, what color are your eyes?”

That makes him pause in the middle of his extremely animated story about how he’d caught Earl Yaga in the middle of an artistic dance routine. The baritone of his voice cracking so uncharacteristically as he responds with, “Wh-why do you ask, princess?”

“Because.” you roll your eyes. “In four days m’gonna be marrying, and it might just be your king. Yet, I don’t even know his attendant’s eye color - what type of good queen would I be then?”

You knew it was a flimsy excuse, truthfully you just wanted to see Satoru. All of Satoru.

“Not many have wanted to look into my eyes”

You tilt your head, “How come?”

“Well, I can assure you that they aren’t half as alluring as yours.” Satoru pushes back your tiara ever-so-slightly to reveal your face to him better, fingers dancing down to fiddle with your pendant. “You’re a strange one, aren’t ya, flower?” he chuckles, face inching closer to yours - and for a moment, you think he might do something else. “Tell me, how are the wedding preparations going?”

Ah, right - the wedding preparations. Your wedding preparations, to someone else.

Did you want him to do something else?

“W-well-” you pull back from his hypnotic presence. Heart lurching, necklace burning cold into your skin. “Sukuna keeps trying to teach me his very particular diet, I swear I’ve spent much more time with Uraume learning it than with him- they’re a sweetheart though, I can’t complain.” Eyes trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, “Oh- and Naoya still talks about his weaponry, however, I think his Zenin elders had a word with him because he asked to meet me in the gardens tomorrow evening to actually get to know me for once.”

You brave to take a look at Satoru at the end of his spiel - only to be met with a face you never thought you’d see. His mouth a tight gash, jaw ticking, and you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnetic.

Powerful.

The library was always cold - but you fail to suppress a shiver at the sudden grip in the air. “S-Satoru?”

And suddenly, at the mere sound of your voice, everything clicks back to normalcy. You’re staring that familiar grin painted onto his face again, musing slyly, “How much d’you wanna bet he’ll ask about your weaponry instead?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s only much, much later at night when you’re forced to retire early - Satoru slipping past the library earlier than usual with groans of his “attendant duties” that you realize - he didn’t answer your question.

---

“P-princess, will you be alright going alone? I don’t think-”

“It’ll be alright, Ichiji, I’m just meeting Lord Naoya.” you wave off the stammering man. Tugging your velvety coat snugly around your body, “Honestly, you act like I haven’t been out in the gardens alone before.”

And it was true, since returning from his little meeting with the Kashimo court, your jumpy attendant seemed even more so - and you didn’t even know that was even impossible. Always peeking cautiously behind corners of the winding hallways, always hovering close by you even when his duty didn’t require it.

He’d told you - in that quiet, shaky voice of his - that Kashimo was well, and headed straight for his kingdom to fulfill emergency duties. To which you’d accepted - you understood the gravity of responsibility, after all.

“But- but, your highness!” he gasps, pulling you out of your little reverie. “I don’t think- with the way he-”

A spine-chilling breeze rustles the nearby tree, sending shivers down your spine. Howling in your ears. You squint your eyes against the cold, “Sorry, what was that, Ichiji?”

But the man in front doesn’t speak - fuck, you didn’t even know if he was breathing. Face a sickly pallor, mouth gaping open and shut like he wanted to say something - he needed to say something. Yet, he wasn’t even looking at you, wide eyes locked on something over your shoulder.

“Are you-” Your body holds you back, feeling two burning eyes on you - and you have to force yourself to look over your shoulder. Only to see- nothing? “-are you alright?”

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you’re turning back to face your attendant - only to see him sprinting back down the entrance as fast as his knobbly legs could carry him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” you call, hoping it echoed far enough to be heard.

Strange.

It’s all you can think about for the next half an hour you’re seated on that dainty, painted bench in the middle of the palace gardens, waiting for your potential future husband. And for the next hour. And the next.

It’s by the time the sun has fully set, when twinkling stars are dotting the night sky that you settle with the conclusion that yes, it seems that Naoya has already made his decision about the marriage. And no it doesn’t end with a wedding.

“Dammit.” you spit, running a hand through the hair you had Nobara fuss about with. “S’not like I wanted to marry you anyway, bastard.”

And you didn’t - you really didn’t. Whenever you dared to imagine walking down that decorated aisle, Naoya was the last person you saw.

But seated alone and abandoned, trying to cover yourself from the biting chill of the night, you never felt more like an unworthy heir. Fuck, if no one wanted to marry you how would you even dare to think of taking over the throne?

Maybe you should just-

“We have got to stop meeting like this, flower. S’like you’re haunting me.”

“Satoru!” you gasp, throwing yourself into his embrace. You’re reaching up to loop two arms around his neck, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. That asshole had the audacity to stand me up.” Pulling back so your face ghosts his, “I got all dolled up just for him to leave me like this. As if I wanted to be with him, I was just trying to be a good- a good h-host and-”

Suddenly, you’re struck with the realization of how close you two actually are. You could count every crease on his blindfold, pinpoint exactly where every dimple at the corner of his grin was.

Your hands slide their way down to his sculpted chest, pushing slightly. “-I apologize, this was forward of me.”

But his arms only tighten around your waist - when did they even get there? Large and steady, pulling you back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, your racing pulse. “Stay.” he groans, and he sounds slightly out-of-breath, heavy exhales tickling your ear.

“We can’t be caught like this, Satoru.” you breathe, but that familiar little tug has you shuffling closer. Breathing in that familiar metallic sweet scent you’ve grown to love, “I- I’m getting-” Bile creeps up at the back of your throat, and you laugh bitterly. “I think I’m getting married in three days, y’know? To Lord Sukuna, I assume, since two of my suitors ah- ran away and the other refuses to even see my face.”

His thick fingers dig deeper into the extravagant corset at your waist, “I know. Fuck- don’t I know.”

It’s a steady beat of silence, so still. So tense you could hear every stuttering heartbeat of yours, and strangely enough, you had the nagging feeling that he could, too.

“You could just marry me.” Satoru’s abrupt confession breaks the silence, and you find yourself sinking deeper into his soft coat. Wrapping yourself up in his heady presence. “Be my queen. You wouldn’t have to worry about duties or elders or- or vampires.”

And the night was still. So still.

Despite the way your heart races, eyes blinking up in disbelief, you find it in yourself to deadpan, “F-funny. Do I have to give you my soul for that as well?” Oh, some stupid little part of you think you might just have.

And you’d expected Satoru to crack a laugh, to give you a teasing smile while he carried on that little inside joke between the two of you. You’d expected him to no sooner shove you off and talk about it being late. Hell, a part of you even expected this to be some elaborate set-up from the elders to get you caught in such a compromising position with the no-longer stranger from the Northern kingdom.

But, no. It’s anything but that - everything but that.

Because the taller man only rasps, nose-to-nose now, “No.” Sounding like his sanity was slipping away from him with every breath, fingers making their dance down to twirl your sapphire pendant between them. “I’d give you mine.”

You can feel his breath fanning your cheeks, head dipping slowly - so torturously slowly. As if he was giving you ample opportunity to run away if you wanted to. But you don’t think you could move for the life of you.

Instead, you’re dipping closer, gliding the tip of your thumb over his defined cheekbone. Mere millimeters away - just one push. Another hand of yours steadies at the back of his neck, feeling those snowing locks under your fingers.

One.

Your thumb dips just under the seam of his blindfold - unwillingly.

“Your highness.” Satoru’s voice is cold, his fingers lacing with your own even colder. Something eerie. And even with the delicate touch you could feel the power thrumming through Satoru’s body. “This is for you.”

You can only stand there in shocked silence as the moment shatters, and he produces a wild rose as if out of thin air. “Consider it from King Gojo.” Touch searing against yours when he hands it to you, you feel drunk off of him “Perhaps the night is late now.”

Right. The king.

When you’re walking back in the directions of the palace’s warm lights, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer. Strangely enough.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m onto you.”

“You’re onto me.” he’s tucking the bloom over your ear. Before stepping back into the inky pool of shadows beside the entrance you came from. “Sweet dreams, flower.”

That night, when you tuck yourself into bed, you swear you hear a faint whisper of those same three words lulling you to sleep. Over and over.

Sweet.

Dreams.

Flower.

---

Floral preservation was one of the lessons you’d been forced to attend growing up in the palace, but even you didn’t know how that wild rose Satoru gifted you hadn’t wilted yet.

It remained as fresh and prim as the night it was picked, bluish pink petals never fading. You didn’t keep it safely in a bowl of water amongst the other plants and flowers in your bedroom. Somehow, never out of place, always tucked safely behind your ear in the days that followed. Perhaps it was improper to keep it on you even when you were being fitted into an engagement gown to be promised off to another man. But Satoru didn’t complain, and you didn’t either.

With Kashimo departing for his kingdom early, and Naoya apparently following in his footsteps due to “irrevocable differences”, it was now almost confirmed that the future king was to be Lord Sukuna. Not like King Gojo had made any effort to reach out - and Satoru hadn’t mentioned it either.

Satoru.

Things were…the same after that night, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

It must be done, you sigh, wincing at the pinch of the flowing white dress being suited onto you by the bustling tailor. At least it could be worse, even if you’d rather…

“Honestly, young people these days.” Yaga speaks up from where he was fussing with the silken hem of your gown for tomorrow. “I heard of that Naoya brat leaving out of nowhere, princess. My condolences.”

“Ah-” you startle, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s not your fault, we likely didn’t mesh all that well. I just wish he left a note- Honestly, I’m lucky to even have a suitor left after these six days.”

Another grimace leaves you when you feel another tweak of pins pricking at your skin. The other man hums lowly, “Don’t say that, anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyway-” He gets up from his position kneeling, towering over you to admire his own work. “How do you like it, your highness?”

You let out a gasp when you face the floor-length mirror, “Oh my god, it’s perfect.” The dress was regal, decadent. With flowing tresses resembling a petals, and gilded gold and blue weaved into the fabric.

Blue.

“I fashioned it after that necklace and flower of yours.” You unwittingly reach for that familiar pendant, “I ah- forgive the assumption, but I assumed you would be wearing them both at the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, princess?”

Taking another long look in the mirror, you nod, “Yeah. I will.”

---

“I knew it.” he laughs shrilly. “I fuckin’ knew there was something wrong with you. As soon as I saw you butterin’ the princess up in the library, I knew you were a fuckin’ freak.”

The other man only responds with ominous silence, letting labored breathing cut through the bone-chilling air. Clearly unsatisfied, “What? Not gonna talk now? Aren’t ya just in it for the crown like me? Have the bitch, just give me the crown.” Goading now, “I bet you’re not even an attendant are ya- I know what you are-”

His words are cut off with another choked-up gasp, followed shortly by a strained growl. “I know- what you are-”

Red stains the marble floor - a problem for later.

“I know, King Gojo.” And it’s the last thing he sees. “And you’ll reap what you sow, she’ll never love you.”

Blue.

“You’ve haunted me too long, flower.”

“Satoru–!” you scream, throwing your soft bed sheets off your body.

It was burning - you were burning, gasping for the cold lungfuls of air that filled your empty bedroom. Mind bleary, distantly, you register that it’s around daybreak - tiny fingers of golden sunlight just barely dipping through your window - your open window.

Hastily, you’re tumbling out of bed to slam it shut. Heart still pounding when you take in the mess of flower petals from those congratulatory bouquets you’d gotten. Ruined. Only the stems left in the vases after that sudden, chilling wind.

“What-” Your eyes dart around to look over your dresser, where you always kept Satoru’s wild rose. And a shiver creeps down your spine when you realize it lay snug tucked behind your ear, safe and sound. Exactly where you didn’t keep it. “-happened?”

You couldn’t settle back into bed after that - couldn’t even think about it. So you find yourself reaching for your wardrobe of dresses, running your fingers along the intricate gown made for your engagement ball tonight. Your engagement to Sukuna.

If this was the nightmare, and tonight was to be the dream - why did your stomach turn so?

---

It was difficult convincing Nobara to let you keep the wild rose on after getting ready.

“But that’s so last season.” she bemoans. “No offense, your highness, but even old lady Ogami wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flowers in her hair these days.”

You’re giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Please, Nobara?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you raid my exclusive wardrobe the next time you want to play dress-up?”

“...”

Which was how you found yourself shoved into a dress that was way too gorgeously palatial, barely even having the time to admire the lush gold and blue decorations around the sparkling ballroom before you were being ushered next to your father on his throne.

You fiddle with your ringed fingers, feeling more and more like a lamb sent to slaughter - a very opulent slaughter - with each step.

“I am so proud of you for this week, and you look absolutely divine, my love.” your father whispers into your ear once you’re up on the crushed velvet platform. “I hear from Ichiji that you know, I apologize we couldn’t go through with this marriage under better circumstances.”

You shake your head, giving him a calm smile - you’d already forgiven him, sometimes there was duty far greater than any man.

“My people, as promised, we are gathered once more to celebrate the joining of two hands - and two kingdoms.” The king projects his voice out to the eager crowd, “Together, these two young loves will face their duty. They will face the dangers. They will face our future.”

The thought had you clenching your fist into the soft fabric of your gown, looking down at your feet in a bow.

“As I did with my father before me - God rest his soul - the future king and queen will oversee their responsibilities to protect our people from those treacherous vampires. The elders-” he stops short, eyes widening at the empty seats on the balcony - where the table of elders always sat. Abandoned. Chilling. “...have decreed, in accordance with our princess, to introduce my daughter to you all as our future queen-”

Your father gestures a hand your way, and you step forwards to cheers, still not daring to look up. And all you could see were two, gold-toed boots stepping into your field of vision.

“-and our future king!”

“Look up, flower, this is the best part.”

Gasping, you raise your head - Satoru.

“Y-you?”

He smiles that pearly smile at you, one that makes your knees weaken, “Me.” Before leaning down conspiratorially, “Better get moving now, the king just declared that the big bad Northern king and the precious princess will have their first dance as a couple.”

It felt like you were moving through a dream as you slip your hand into his, flinching at the feeling of his cold lips meeting the back of your hand.

The crowd of whispering nobles part to make a path for the two of you, and Satoru is so gentle when he leads you into the middle of the dance floor. Weightless on his feet, swiftly placing a burning hand on your waist - just below where the elders would consider proper.

The other intertwining with yours, you barely even register the slow, romantic tune playing from the orchestra.

“I bet you have questions.” he whispers, breath fanning your cheeks.

You take in his tall figure, the rows of medals, gleaming only half as bright as the smile that makes its way onto your face. Hissing, “That doesn’t cover the half of it, King Gojo.”

“I-I apologize. I can’t apologize enough but-”

“Though, I did have a nagging feeling about the fifth time you talked yourself up.” you smirk.

Satoru throws his head back in a loud cackle, echoing through the hushed crowds - no doubt gossiping about this being the Northern king, that fearful beast that ruled over the Gojo family. “I know.” His hand comes up momentarily to brush over your sapphire necklace, “And I’ll spend our entire lives making it up to you, flower.”

Goosebumps dance down your arm, your spine, right down to where Satoru held a firm grip on your hip. You two waltz around the edge of the dance floor, perfectly in time. Through the crowd of grumbling lords, the orchestra, past the table of foods.

“And exactly how long would the rest of our lives be, Satoru?”

Slowing right in front of that huge, reflective wall.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but his biting gaze was all you could feel.

Lingering on the blue pendant nestled at your chest, the everlasting wild rose tucked behind your ear, the mirror to your right - where the twin image of you shone. Powerful, gorgeous, everything that a monster like him could never have because he wasn’t standing there right next to you. His kind never could.

In the back of your mind, you registered collective gasps sounding all around you - the rest of the ball attendees that’d also taken note of the lack of Satoru’s reflection. But your eyes stay locked on him.

A thumb hooks under his blindfold, and he grimaces. “You really were onto me, huh, flower?”

Tugging.

Your fingers tighten around his, unable to let the most fearsome of creatures escape from your grasp. “You must’ve been onto me, too, Satoru.”

Pulling.

All you see is a flash of a regal nose bridge, and the flutter of thick white lashes - before every single chandelier in the ballroom snuffs out at once. Cloaking the room in unnatural darkness, it sends every single knight and noble into a frenzy.

And then, he opens his eyes.

“IT’S HIM-”

“A body! A BODY FOUND IN THE ROYAL GUEST SUITE–

“VAMPIRE! STAY BACK-“

Oh, it’s blue.

That crystal blue.

And then it’s black.

---

SLAM!

“If you must kill me.” Satoru’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. You blink away the darkness, feeling your bleary gaze try and adjust to that unfamiliar high ceiling, the outlines of hauntingly beautiful paintings on it. His ragged breaths cut through your thoughts once more, hastily folding your hand to grip your pendant. “If you must kill me, then I prefer you do it with your own hands, princess.”

You can’t tell whose hand is trembling more - yours or his. Distantly, you realize you’re being pushed up against a luxuriously padded wall, one you’d never seen before in your life.

Where were you?

“The Gojo palace- Please-” he reads your mind, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Gasping - and you can discern two elongated teeth at his canines. Fangs, you realize with a shiver. “You may leave if you want to, you may kill me for what I’ve done. My life is in your hands.”

“Satoru.” you soothe in a hushed voice, despite the way your head was reeling. The Gojo palace? “I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“Satoru, what does this necklace mean?” You beg, and at this point, you’re not surprised that the necklace is from him - because it was an exact replica of the two burning eyes staring back at you. The only source of light right now, glowing a blue you’d finally found after a lifetime. “Why did you-” you gulp, heart lurching. “Why did you hand me your…life?”

Soft lips play right over your rapid pulse, murmuring into your skin, “S’my soul.” A long, pale index of his plays with the pendant. “The only part of my soul that’s living, gilded into a necklace to be kept in the safest place I know. You.”

“But-” you cry out, trying to get another look at his eyes - but your fiancé only kisses deeper at your neck. Nibbling at the thundering beat just below. “But why did you give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to, if not for my mate?”

Mates - there were a thousand and one books and official documents detailing everything from a vampire’s killing pattern to the aphrodisiac toxins found in their blood. But the research on a vampire’s mate was far and few between.

Perhaps owing to the lack of willing mates that can come out without persecution, or perhaps due to the vampires’ intense rumored mating rituals. But it didn’t go without its own gossip, you were no stranger to the ladies of the court tittering about how morbidly “romantic” it was that mates were akin to soulmates - how it was an invisible string connecting two people to share a life, a soul.

A vampire’s one and only mate.

Satoru was pinning you harder to the wall now, his pink tongue darting out to lick over your pulse. The fingers holding onto the necklace were now tilting your chin up at him, “Speak to me, flower.”

“I’m your mate?” you whimper, your lips ghosting over his. Already knowing the answer, but fuck you needed to hear it from him. “What does that mean exactly?”

He lets out a pained grunt, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It means you’re the other half of my soul. My only one, I was born for you.” Pressing a chaste peck on there - and you swear you could feel the nip of two sharp canines against your skin. “The one I’ll fight heaven and hell for, until the very last beat of my cold, dead heart.” Your fingers curl at his shoulders when his mouth moves to the shell of your ear. “The one I’ll kill for, take out every measly scum that thinks they can get with my mate.”

He huffs out a burst of cold laughter when your breath hitches, probably reading over the thoughts running through your mind - Satoru killed them. The guards, Kashimo, Naoya- fuck, maybe even Sukuna. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them.

You shiver, “A-and all the wind? The whispers? I thought it was just you these past week b-but- All my life, that was you?”

You know. You knew.

Another kiss - this time to the corner of your eye, and Satoru licks a long, content stripe up the big fat tears unwillingly welling up behind your eyes. He groans at the salty taste of you, taking in a long, drawn-out breath. “Yes.”

All it takes is that single word for your entire body to collapse, thankfully onto an awaiting Satoru. He holds your entire body weight with one hand around your waist, the other coming up to swipe his thumb under those tears rolling down your cheeks now.

He kisses your cheek, “All your life.” The corner of your lips, “And all of mine.”

Run away run away run away run away-

But you can’t - you don’t want to.

Your lips wobble when he nuzzles down your face, leaving a trail of hot kisses with his cold, cold mouth. “As soon as I learned to use my powers - was just a brat you see - I just had to see my mate. To smell her scent.” He’s inhaling deeply again, hands groping over your engagement gown. “Lo and behold, there was you. A cute lil’ princess around my age, tuckered out and fast asleep.” Lingering at your jaw, the hand tight around your waist pulls you painfully closer. Satoru’s knee wedging itself between your trembling thighs, “Imagine my surprise when she took one look at me and cried. Scared me enough to teleport outta there as soon as you opened that smart mouth, flower.”

And the thought of Satoru - tiny and determined - teleporting halfway across the land only to be yelled at by you has you huffing out a shock of laughter.

“So when I heard through the grapevine about your potential engagement, fuck- I couldn’t have ran out of this palace faster. Was so excited I fuckin’ forgot to teleport, too. Even if you were afraid of the ‘cruel Northern king.’”

Fuck - that’s right. He must’ve heard your thoughts that time you met him in the library.

Satoru’s tone drops to a low simper, so close now that you could feel every slight curve of his grin. Every twitch of his fingers sweeping up and down your exposed skin, feeling the delicious thrum of your veins. He could bite you right now - easily. “And luckily, as I grew up, so did my ability to blend in with the darkness.” Eyes boring into yours, something so vulnerable in them now. “But you found me, you always did.”

“Satoru.” you angle your head upwards. “Kiss me.”

And how could he ever deny you?

You wince at the slight pinch of Satoru’s teeth - his fangs - as he crashes his lips into yours in a greedy kiss. Sliding his tongue over to taste those candied lips he’s been dreaming of for years.

“Fuck-” he breathes out through his nose, jaw sagging open further to kiss you deeper. “Fuck, princess.”

Strong arms pin you harder against the wall, and you’re blindly reaching out to reciprocate even a fraction of Satoru’s neediness. Just dragging your hips up and down his muscled thighs. Sinful.

Shit, it was so endearing to him seeing you struggle to touch him this way. And with a flick of a wrist, the candle chandeliers hung high above your heads are lighting up at once. “S’that better, flower?”

It takes every bit of will in you to manage to pull away, yet the thought of seeing Satoru - of really seeing Satoru is what spurs you to break the kiss. Delicate strings of saturated spit snapping in the non-existent air between you two, you take a long look at your new husband.

Fuck, he was so pretty.

You always knew he was.

But even with his face tilted downwards, within the soft light tinting those snowy strands a sunset yellow - you could make out the pretty pink flush all the way from his glossy, ravaged lips, up, up, up to his delicate cheeks - he looked like the last thing from a monster.

“No you’re pretty.” he hums, and you’re still not used to him reading your mind. Head nodding downwards, “Just look, grinding on my thigh like such a slut.”

What met you was a dark pool of slick saturating his trousers, just peeking out over the hem of your dress. It makes you give another lingering, experimental grind.

“Satoru—” you’re letting out a honeyed drag of his name, reveling in the way it makes him swallow heavily. “You can hear my thoughts, right?” Look at me.

Slowly - but surely - familiar blue meets yours. Half-lidded, pupils blown, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said there were tiny sparks of lightning at the corners of his long white lashes.

You’ve been haunting me my whole life, Toru.

And it was an accident - it really was, your freshly kissed brain too hazy to slur out Satoru’s full name. But the impromptu little nickname has him dragging forwards like he was magnetized.

A low growl escaping when he’s kissing you again. And again. And again and again and-

“Say it-” Two hands are tugging at those tedious ribbons tying your decadent gown together. Pulling. “Say it again f’me.” Ripping.

The more his lips are assaulting yours, the more the dress slips further and further down your shoulders. Tattered. The soft satin leaving goosebumps down your spine as it reveals your neckline - all that skin for him to ruin. To mark.

“Oh-” you’re squealing when one of Satoru’s fangs prick a bit too hard at your lip. Feeling a hot flow of crimson bleed out, the feeling has you so weak. So drunk. “Quite eager, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.” he groans again. Soft tongue moving from swirling around your own to lazily pool your blood on it. And you can’t imagine what about the metallic taste would be so euphoric, but he’s letting out his loudest drag of your name yet. Eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s just tasted a personal slice of heaven. “Fuck- fuck you have no idea.”

You moan into the kiss when he bites down again on your already-bruised lower lip, “I’ve always wanted to do this-” Slow, slow hands kneading up your waist, at a dizzying tempo matching his mouth down your jaw, your neck. Hips bucking, you feel the outline of something so hard between his legs. “-to kiss you. To-” Tethering on the sensitive area of your pulse, “-bite.”

In a split-second, you’re sinking down into plush silk sheets, swallowing you whole in a king-sized bed you didn’t even realize was in the room before.

“S-Satoru, did you teleport us again?” you gasp, eyes adjusting to the intricate paintings on the ceiling that you hadn’t gotten to admire before. Of white-haired youths and roses, of cold, dark palaces and- and you.

You - when you were younger, sleeping peacefully while a little boy watches intrigued from the corner. You - passed out in the library after a long night of reading, two pale hands wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You - your brows furrowed, head cocked while you pushed past nobles to search for that flash of his blue. You, you, you.

You.

“I can hear the gears in that pretty head turning.” Satoru grins, still kissing you in a languid graze of lips. “And as much as I love it when you hah- admire my lonely paintings, I’d rather you pay attention to-” A low groan curdles at the back of his throat when he’s grinding his massive clothed erection against the syrupy spot at your core. “-me.”

There’s a dark little huff of laughter and with one last bite at the side of your neck, Satoru’s unapologetically tearing right through the middle of your gown.

And you know it’s made with the finest fabrics the country has to offer, you know that no normal man should be able to even rip a tiny shred through your dress - but Satoru is no ordinary man.

Your spike of disappointment is quickly overshadowed by cold breath hovering over your exposed tits. “Oh, so perfect f’me.” he’s groaning, deep and primal. Biting down on your hardened nipple, “Ya think those uptight elders your court has- ah, had would appreciate me desecrating their precious princess before marriage?”

Through gasps, you peek down at his wicked tongue, swirling around the sensitive spots of your areola. “Who- who gives a shit.”

“So feisty.” The peaks of your tits are left coated in him as Satoru pulls away. “So addictive.” Pinching your soft flesh between his teeth - just hard enough that you worry he’s out to draw blood again. “So- so-”

Words are failing Satoru’s sharp mouth as he kisses his way down your body. The valley of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

Down, down, down-

“Fuck, Satoru-” you’re hissing when he easily pulls the pathetic remains of your dress off and onto the floor. The rest of your inner skirts easily following afterwards. “Are you gonna…”

“M’afraid not.” he licks sloppy circles at the skin of your thighs. Tasting, nipping, leaving little marks with his fangs for later. Sloppily soothing his tongue over the tiny droplets of blood beading from the bites, he murmurs stubbornly, “Not until you address me correctly.”

Hesitantly, you reach out a limp hand to thread through his dampening white tresses. Tugging softly to lock those devouring blue eyes with yours, “Please, Toru?”

You get absolutely no warning when he kisses right through that flimsy excuse of your drenched panties to slide his tongue up and down your sopping wet slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you moan when he’s just dipping the very tip barely past your puffy folds. The fabric of your underwear still sticking to you, “Stop being such a tease, goddammit ngh-”

“Why?” Of course, he toys with your patience even now, addicted to those needy whines falling from your lips. “I jus’ wanna play with my princess’s pretty pussy. What am I getting out of it?”

You smirk, not even having to move your pretty mouth to know you had him in the palm of your hand already. I’d be your mate for life.

It’s all you can do to watch with satisfaction as the great Gojo Satoru gasps - gasps. Slick-glossed lips falling into a soft oh! Hazy eyes widening almost-comically, and at full heady attention while he takes a few seconds to mull over your words.

RIP!

In an instant, your soaked underwear is ripped clean off to bare your dripping cunt for him, wrapped tightly around Satoru’s fingers and disappearing down below to where your imagination couldn’t handle.

“Oh, such a pretty pussy.” he coos, thumbing apart your puffy folds to admire your lewdly winking cunt. Glistening and so so needy, you jolt when he bullies two long fingers past your sloppy entrance. With your greedy hole swallowing every slender inch of Satoru’s fingers easily, “So needy too. This all f’me?”

As if to prove his point, his pink lips wrap around your throbbing clit, grinding his tongue over the ravaged tip. The harsh texture of his tastebuds rolling over every inch of you he could reach.

“Y-yes-” you squeal, hips bucking down mindlessly to try and match his relentless tempo. “S’only for you.”

“Tha’s what I love to hear-” Satoru’s cheeks hollow when he sucks on your sensitive little nub - hard. “Sweeter than I even imagined, shit-”

Every pump of his merciless fingers in and out of your cunt drags along your gummy walls. Deftly curling to prey at those hidden sweet spots of yours he just knew would wrench out such throaty moans from you - and fuck, Satoru thinks- no, he knows that the sound is is favorite song.

“You’re makin’ me- hah making me fall in love all over again.” he gruffs out into your cunt. The pads of his fingers pressing into the cushiony ends of your pussy. “Because look how messy you are- how loud.”

You didn’t know if he had mind-control powers on top of mind-reading, because it’s as if you’re on auto-pilot when your lolling head is whirling down to look at the absolute sin made of you below. Satoru - running his mouth a mile a minute to send white-hot vibrations along your clit. His milky fingers buried knuckle-deep to stretch out your poor cunt. Your sweet sweet juices drooling all over them in such an obscene sheen down his palm, his wrist.

He whines, “Makin’ me wanna-” You jolt when he’s biting down so dangerously around your clit. “Wanna-”

Satoru doesn’t end up finishing his sentence - and he doesn’t have to.

Because he’s pausing his make-out with your clit to spit once. Twice. A thick thumb swiping at the intentional splatter of saliva marking your skin, before surging forwards even deeper - you didn’t even think that was possible. But Satoru has the tip of his nose rubbing methodical circles against your clit, jaw grinding at the base of your pussy, tongue flattening out your pussy lips.

Messy. Harsh.

“Oh- oh my god, Toru-” you’re keening at the feeling of his wet muscle trying to squeeze in past the fingers still continuing their assault on your entrance. “It- it won’t fit–”

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, princess.” he hushes, letting another round glob of spit wet your clingy pussy. “You can take it. You will - otherwise how are you gonna take your husband, hm?”

That little comment has connotations that make your plushy walls clamp down vice-like around his fingers - his tongue. And you’re angling your head just right, blinking away the lustful haze in your eyes to spy down at the rapid, jerky movements of his other hand. Devouring gaze dropping down to-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

It was difficult to even look at the sight below - your panties, soaked and completely see-through with slick and precum, wrapped prettily around what you could make out to be Satoru’s aching cock. Standing proud, twitching wildly with every drag of his fist up and down his glistening length.

“Fuck-” he groans, taking the opportunity to devilishly slip his tongue past your feeble entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- y’like this, huh?” Drawled out little praises now muffled as he fucks you on his tongue the way he wished he could with his cock. In and out in and out in and out. Pulling back to eye your gaping hole, “I can feel y’getting wetter for me is it because-” Before surging back forwards, as if he’s addicted. “Because-” Again.“Fuck don’t clench around me that way. Was hard enough trying not to fuck you stupid right there in the middle of the ballroom.”

You whine, tears flowing down freely at the sheer pleasure at this point. “Y-you-” you gasp, your five fingers splaying out over Satoru’s head. Pushing even harsher, “You hngh- talk too much- m’so close-”

Partially because you really needed those pretty lips back at your heated core, partially because every word tumbling from his mouth had you throbbing embarrassingly, your slick spreading a glossy sheen on the sheets underneath you.

“Oh yeah? Heh, anything for you, flower.” Satoru grins such a sly, sultry grin and you feel it against one set of your swollen lips. “Absolutely anything.”

In and out in and out. He has his brows furrowed now, concentrated on having every flick and divot of movement pushing you closer and closer towards the edge. Faster. Sloppier. You have half the mind to wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether Satoru’s tongue wasn’t cramping up from how fast he was going, whether his fingers weren’t tired already.

Out of the corner of your spotty vision, you can see those stuttering squeezes of Satoru’s hand speed up. Trying desperately to match each bullying push of his tongue and his fingers into your overstuffed pussy.

The thought makes you whine, “Oh my god- Toru, m’gonna cum.” And shit, at this point it’s too much. You couldn’t think - you couldn’t even breathe. “M’so close please.” Barely able to even register anything but Satoru Satoru Satoru-

It’s why you don’t even realize at first when you’re finally cumming - Satoru does, though. He feels it in the way your heavenly walls are closing down on his fingers, clenching around him so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your orgasm. Waves of electric pleasure crashing into you and you think you’re drowning.

“Tha’s it.” he rasps. “Cum f’me like that, tha’s it- thaaat’s it, such a good lil’ wife- a perfect mate.”

The fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy are being pulled out in a flash - not letting you waste a moment of your heady high before he’s toying ravenously with your swollen clit. Pinching, and rolling between two soft fingers.

“O-oh fuck, m’-cumming? M’cumming m’cumming-” you moan deliriously, mind just now catching up. Your hips drag your sloppy pussy all over Satoru’s pretty face. Just drenching his noble features with your gushing mess. “Feels too ah- good, Toru.”

And he takes it like it’s everything he needs - everything he’s ever wanted.

Jaw falling slack to let your juices slide down his throat, tongue lolling out flick your spasming cunt through your high. Unstopping. Unwavering.

Even when your vision stops tingeing with black at the edges, even when you think you’re sane enough to form a coherent thought. Even when your climax is bating enough that every flick of Satoru’s tongue only sends almost painful thrums of pleasure down your spine.

“W-wait m’done-” you sob, tasting the salty stream of tears splashing down your face now. “S’too sensitive- ngh-”

When he doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, you try again - this time thinking the embarrassing thought out loud. I…I really want you inside me now, Toru. Please?

And he pauses - jolting, as if some dark, primal part of him had just been called back to life. Tongue still hot on your cunt, fist still greedy around his rock-hard shaft.

“F-fuck you’re gonna be the death of me, flower.”

And before, you couldn’t get enough of those striking blue eyes, but now you couldn’t escape them.

With inhuman speed, he’s shuffling up the soaked sheets. “An absolute fuckin-” Slick-glossed lips meet yours, smearing along the combination of juices till the lower half of your face was as dripping wet as Satoru’s. “-minx, y’know that?”

“Wh-what can I say?” you tilt your head with a smirk, lips a bit too loose than you’d like - but it didn’t matter anyway, he was in your thoughts. Your mind. “I’m your mate, after all.”

He falls back onto his knees at that sinful little sentence of yours, throwing his head back in a guttural groan. “Fuck- you’re mine alright. See what you hah- do to me? See how this is all your fault?”

If Satoru expected an answer, then he doesn’t receive it. Because every snippy little retort on the tip of your tongue melts when you get a long, hard look at the angry shaft in his hand. So red and angry. Thick enough that you felt your cunt quiver already.

Delicate with prominent veins that glistened and throbbed down his long, long length with each slew of his vigorous fist. And his tip- fuck, blushed your favorite shade of weepy pink, slobbering a sheen of precum all down his wrist, his tufts of cloudy white.

And you realize with a jolt that he still had your panties wrapped around him - looking so tiny around Satoru’s massive cock.

Wordlessly, your hand replaces his.

“W-woah- fuck-” His toned waist flexes with the effort to fuck up into the soft cushion of your palm. “How the- ngh how the fuck does your fuckin’ hand feel this good?”

“You’re so big- fuck, don’t know how I’d- Wait you never imagined this?” you bat your eyes up with faux innocence. A thumb gliding over that deep divot on the very tip of his fat head. “Because I sure have, Toru.”

Satoru’s heavy balls smack against your arm when he shuffles down his pants even further, now fully letting you go ahead with your agonizing torture. “Shit-” he yelps, eyes screwing shut at the image. “Don’t- don’t say that, holy shit.”

You toy with your scrap of panties, massaging every ridge and curve with it. Just dragging your hand up and down. “Would you rather I think it instead?”

Within milliseconds, two sharp fangs are poised right above your rapid pulse, a hand around your throat. “No- no no no no-” Satoru gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. And it takes him a few blinks to realize his position, immediately moving his lips up to nip at your jaw. “Fuckin’ no.” Hard enough that another red pearl of blood drips out, instantly being sucked up greedily by your fiancé. “Gonna make me lose it before I-I ngh-”

With a pained growl, he suddenly has you sitting so prettily on his muscular lap. Your legs splayed out like such a slut, needy cunt slobbering all over where you were sat right on his demanding erection.

By the time you’re realizing your helpless position, it’s too late - and Satoru’s already shrugging off the rest of his pants. Buttons hitting the floor when he just tears his flowing dress shirt off.

“Sh-show off.” you breathe, hands mapping out every dip and curve of the plane of defined muscles displayed before you. So mouthwatering.

“Can tell that you- ngh think m’mouthwatering, flower.” he grins. One hand kneading and groping the flesh of your ass to steady your drooling cunt to kiss at his thick tip. The other keeping one of your palms stuck to his washboard abs, up, up, up to press at his sculpted left pec. “N’ I know m’heart’s not beating, but I’m much the same. Very- much the- same.”

And Satoru’s spent years waiting, yearning - so he doesn’t waste even a second more when stuffing his cock inside your snug cunt.

“O-oh. Satoru- Satoru please oh-”

The stretch - fuck, the stretch. The stretch is so much that it feels like you’re being split apart. Just the bare tip of his fat cock being bullied in short, determined half-thrusts.

And it takes only one, lucky collision into the bullseye of your g-spot and you’re already falling apart.

“Wait- wait wait wait m’gonna-” you gasp, your nails running down his broad, milky back in jagged red lines when you’re cumming once more. Toes curling, hips convulsing wildly on top of a smug Satoru. “Oh my god, ngh- what’ve you done to me, Toru?”

“Now, let me ngh- let me tell you a little secret, hah- princess.” His hand comes up to cup your jaw, gifting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. “The best thing about mates?” Sharp fangs catch onto your delicate skin, “They feel sex on a whole other level.”

And then he’s bringing down both hands to spread apart the globes of your ass. Your puffy folds are stretched to their limits when he thrusts up once. Muscled thighs flexing underneath yours. Harsh.

Ignoring your pleading keens and the slight resistance at the intrusion of his intimidating size, “Hold on, princess- hold- fuuuuck.” Lips latch onto yours, drinking up every heady whine when your poor cunt is being fed every inch by fucking inch. “You’re taking me so well.”

And that you were - your pussy lips bulging and struggling to accommodate Satoru’s monstrous size, but still taking him in so greedily.

“There we go.” he grunts out, punctuated with heavy rams of hips. Up, up, up until you could feel Satoru’s sobbing tip graze against your cervix - your lungs. “Theeere we fuckin’-” Pushing and pushing until there was no more, until your neglected clit was scratching against his snowy pubic hair. Ass coming to rest at his twitching balls. “-go.”

“You’re in so deep-” you’re blabbering, cockdrunk already. The last few dredges of your high still not wearing off, it takes you a few seconds of Satoru still trying to squeeze his cock even deeper to manage to raise a hand about midway up your stomach. Feeling for that vertical bulge that was him, “-can feel you right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

And like he was testing your theory, Satoru fucks up into your gummy hole in another bullying slam. Watching in wonder at the way that little divot in your stomach crashes around the same spongy cervix he was.

“Fuck- you’re right.” he hisses. Addicted now. Immediately rocking into you with reeling, long rolls of his hips. “You’re so- fuckin’ right.”

You can’t find the energy in yourself to even yelp in surprise when Satoru immediately changes your positions so that you’re now laying fucked-out on the mattress. His domineering hips pinning you down to use you like some little cocksleeve.

“God-” he pants into your open mouth, tongue swirling with your weighty one. “God- fuck fuck fuck if heaven is real then this is it.” Each little profanity is decorated with a smoldering crash of his tip into your sweet spot. “You’re the heaven I don’t ngh- deserve, flower.”

That neat bitemark on your thigh is being jostled with the amount of ragged movement, and you wince with pain when it starts flowing again.

“Oh- oh.”

Satoru’s like a predator that has cornered his prey, and is spending hours tediously unraveling every single bit of you.

Sliding two smooth palms underneath your legs, they’re urgently thrown over his large shoulders to fold you down, down, down into the meanest mating press you think you could handle - handle without fucking breaking, that is.

“So good t’me.” he breathes, long tongue easily licking up that sweet nectar of your blood. “Y’know your cute lil’ brain s’too scrambled to even read right now.”

“H-how can I think when you’re ah! Like- like this, Toru?”

The sudden change in angle makes you scream. It makes you clamor for the headboard, the sheets, your husband when that obscenely perfect upwards curve of his dick is massaging every nook and cranny of your cunt.

“Yeah? Feels good? Now now- don’t run- away” he’s dragging you down those drenched sheets by the legs like some ragdoll, stuffing you more and more with his painful cock. Fucking you so relentless, like he was trying to worship every little hidden sweet spot inside your dripping cunt. “Say it- no no no, not in your head. Say it.”

And you do - a little over fifteen times when his thick hilt pecks your pussy lips over and over with each thrust when Satoru bottoms out, hitting all the way into the back of your cunt - your cervix, your g-spot - like he couldn’t decide which one to bruise more.

“S’too good-” you’re gasping. Your overstimulated pussy being molded like clay to the girthy shaft kissing down your cunt. Stretching out your elastic walls until you could almost feel them take shape to his swollen cock. Feel every sensitive spot inside you being overstimulated at once with every burning massage against them. “You’re fuckin’ me way too- too good- ngh- can’t even think.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Dipping a thumb down to circle around your clit, white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine when he lets out a deep rumble, “Think I fell in love with you when I- fuck, right then and there when I first- hah saw you all those years back.” speeding up with the sloppy staccato of his rude cock. Satoru’s words slurring now, messed up and half-prepared like the accelerating half-thrusts being bestowed upon your ravaged cunt. Like he couldn’t bear to pull out completely. “The first time you saw me, you were so afraid. Look at you- fuck, jus’ look at you now, princess.”

Each word is like a brand onto your sticky skin, accompanied by harsh smacks of Satoru’s balls against your ass, his sharp hip bones digging into your thighs. Him.

“Toru–” is all you can manage to whine out, a limp hand pulling his face closer to yours. You’re jumping with each swipe at your poor clit. “Toru m’here.”

“And- and yet-” he’s still blabbering, still pussydrunk while he fucks you so menacingly. Fingers sopping wet with their assault on your sensitive nub, “And yet I just- fuck-” He cuts himself off to give your messy hole another thick stream of spit. Coating his long, raw shaft - rubbed red with the way your gripping walls were massaging him so right - making it easier to slide in and out. “And yet, I just had to see you, to see the gorgeous mate I don’t deserve. I couldn’t live without you.”

A single overstimulated tear glistens a track down Satoru’s pretty face - one you kiss away as quickly as it appeared. Nudging open those teary, blue gaze to bore down on you.

Oh, he looked an absolute wreck - white hair mussed up, stray strands sticking to his forehead. Glossy lips parted, drool pooling at the corner, broken grunts leaving him with each smash of his tip back into your cunt. So blissed out.

Jolting at your eyes on him, Satoru feels his balls tighten so painfully. Abs burning when his pace stutters with need.

“You’re haunting me, just as much as I was haunting you, Toru.”

The candles go out. Instantly.

And shit you’re feeling it first when when hé’s cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Flashes of white startling behind his closed, glassy eyes. “Shit- shit shit shit shit-” Hairs on your body raising as Satoru’s fingers draw circles on your clit so aggressively. Dragging out your high. Forcing it. “Take it- take it all, my flower. Let me paint this pretty pussy all white.” Violent, almost.

So, really, it makes sense that your third orgasm of the night was the same.

Just shivering, sinful tingles running from your overstimulated mind right down to where Satoru was stuffing thick white ropes of potent seed deeper and deeper down your tight channel.

Overspilling with each calculated ram, his cum is oozing out of the corners of your puffy lips with each furious clench of his balls. Too much.

And it’s all you can do to sit there and take it, feeling the sloppy dredges of cum make a mess slobbering down your thighs and his. Starting up blearily at the blurry paintings on the ceilings. The paintings of you - of a still Satoru that looked down at you with only half as much intensity and pure swirling emotion as he was right now.

Something that couldn’t be painted - but would make such a pretty picture, when his fangs bite into that racing junction at your neck.

You scream a soundless scream of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as something warm fills your entire body.

Leaving your words unheard, your ravaged hole loose to let out slobbering squelches of Satoru’s cum. Blood racing and flowing right into Satoru’s greedy mouth.

“Princess-” he gulps. Tongue licking up every crimson bead his crazed eyes could spot, body aching when he dares pull away from that heavenly taste. More. “Princess princess princess- you- hngh you’re mine. All mine now.”

And he’s letting out more thick globs of cum straight into your waiting cunt. Body bowing even harder to let it seep into your elastic walls, your womb. So much more than you can take and he just keeps giving.

It seems like forever when Satoru finally pulls away - and within the glowing blue of his eyes, you can see the red staining his lips, dripping down those fangs, his chin. Staining the silk sheets below - staining you with so much more.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching up to catch his lips in a bloodied kiss. Your own elongated canines catching amateurishly on his lips.

Satoru hisses - but he likes it. And you can tell.

You can read every single hypnotizing thought whirling behind those crystal blue eyes - how he wants to ravish you again, how he wants to worship you. To make you his all over, to have you make him yours. The thought makes you smile as you whisper, “I’m onto you, Toru.”

“You’re onto me, flower.” Catching your lips in a sweet, sweet red kiss. “Forever.”

A/N. This was SOOO fun to write omg y’all have no idea. If you made it this far then you get a sloppy smooch from me mwahhhh.

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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sundives · 2 months ago

Text

My kink is karma ✶ pjs.

If karma's real, hope it's your turn.

Summary: You've wished nothing but bad things to your ex-best friend after she ruined your life by stealing your boyfriend and having your friend group take her side. And it looks like the gods have listened to your prayers when you were approached by Park Jongseong — your ex-best friend's first love.

You believed that bad karma will eventually get her but when Jay was persistent on dating you, you couldn’t help but to plot a petty revenge on your ex-best friend and the worst thing that you can do? Date (and maybe fuck) the guy that she longs for.

✰ Song inspiration: My kink is karma - Chappell Roan, Lacy - Olivia Rodrigo, The grudge - Olivia Rodrigo

✰ Word Count: 21.7k

✰ Tags: Revenge, strangers to lovers, man yearning and slow-burn pining!!! Fluff, a bit of angst, smut, college settings, reader is petty but we all are! reader can also be confusing but let her be, she also smokes for like one scene, Jay is genuine (and a down bad loser), he’s also in a band. Yunjin and Jake as your roommates (and they’re so parents-coded for reader)! Mentions of Enhypen members! <3 Yeonjun as your ex-boyfriend lmao. Oc as your ex-best friend (and so are other minor characters.)

✰ CW: Smut! Plot with little porn, oral (f receiving) cowgirl, a bit submissive Jay and that’s sexy haha, unprotected sex (pls don’t do it) petnames (baby, pretty girl) short aftercare because reader cried after sex. Idk I might have missed other stuff.

✰ Asul's Note: I know that my song inspirations are about sapphic relationships but this plot just went into my mind and i was just,,, you know what, i want to write that. So this is a huge brain rot for me, and just word vomits all pieced together. (Inspired by real life events tbh) Also it’s my first time writing smut so don’t judge. I know it’s shitty too. Other than that, just think of their university as a prestigious university that requires even college students to wear uniforms.

This is my first Enhypen fanfic, hope you guys like it! <3

The night club was full by the time the clock struck 1 despite being a Thursday night. Group of friends mostly filled the available tables and couch of the knit-tight club. The speaker’s blasting throughout the four corners with the dj playing some edm music.

It was loud, sweaty, and hot. People your age were dancing and singing along some 2010s pop song as their sweaty bodies hyped the dance floor — completely contrasting you.

You were wearing a black denim pants and a halter top, sitting legs-crossed on the high stool by the bartender’s counter. You've been sitting there since 11 in the evening and yet, you’re still halfway on your bottle of beer.

Clubs aren’t always your go-to place, but you felt the urge to celebrate small wins for things that happened today. A small smirk forming on your face as you recall the afternoon scene.

Your ex-best friend, Yoomi lost her scholarship. What a great way to start your senior year in college. You think. On the first day of class, Yoomi let the tears fall out of her eyes as your other ‘friends’ gathered around to comfort her. Yoomi was sobbing hard as she bore the news on why she was crying.

She was so loud. It was clear that she wanted to gain sympathy from your other classmates. She lost her scholarship because her gpa last academic year didn’t make it to the cutout. That is because of that one professor who gives low grades. You got a low grade from that professor too but you didn’t mind because it was kinda decent but for Yoomi? It’s the end of her world.

Yoomi was crying her heart out, sharing that she tried telling the professor that it’ll ruin her goal of achieving summa cum laude this graduation but failed to appease his empathy. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes because of her words. Your roommate, Yunjin noticed it and could only laugh lightly because you didn’t hide the disgusted look on your face.

“She deserves it,” you commented while you and Yunjin were on your way back to your dorm.

“I get you,” Yunjin sympathized. “I really don’t get why everyone likes her. She thinks she’s smart and quirky but the truth is, she’s cringey and pathetic.”

“People are stupid, and are on the same level as Yoomi,” you let out a sigh, trying to erase Yoomi out of your head.

You and Yoomi instantly clicked on the first day of your freshman year. Both coming from a different town, you two found solace with each other. You two shared the same likes and dislikes, fangirled over anime and would send edit videos on tiktok.

Yoomi was talkative and friendly. Soon, your duo became a friend group who studied together and ranted over crazy tasks and strict professors. Your friend group made you adjust well during freshman year and you were happy that you found a safe space while being away from your family.

College also became a place for you to try dating, and maybe, find a decent guy that you’ll commit a serious relationship with. During your freshman year, you matched with Yeonjun on a dating app and after a few dates, you two became official.

You and Yeonjun dated throughout college. It was stable and healthy, and everyone envied your relationship. Yeonjun’s close with your friends and so are you with his friends. For Yoomi, she didn’t lose a friend even though you had a boyfriend. Hell, you were so happy that the two of them are close and bear no awkward signs.

But that’s where you should’ve seen the signs. Yoomi has always been touchy with Yeonjun, but that’s just how she was with your other male friends. That’s why you didn’t want to put malice on Yoomi — which was your biggest mistake.

Then came junior year. In a glimpse, Yeonjun became cold to you. Telling you that he’s busy and he couldn’t meet you. You trusted him that he’s just busy, because so were you. Junior year was hectic so you never prioritise your relationship. You were confident with your relationship with him.

So it hit you like a truck when you went to Yeonjun’s dorm to surprise him — only to see Yoomi with him. That’s when it sinked in to you all the times that both of them turn down your study dates, they’re seeing each other behind your back.

You caught them in the act. Yoomi was on top of Yeonjun, half-naked at your sight. You didn’t miss the way Yoomi smirked, which made you leave the scene. Yeonjun attempted to go after you but you’ve made up your mind. That night, you broke up with Yeonjun and completely cut Yoomi off.

Your group of friends heard about it, but you didn’t feel a single comfort from them. You were told that “whatever fight you and Yoomi had, they don’t want to pick a side.” and it’s obvious that they’re on Yoomi’s side.

As the days continued, you felt left out by your friend group while Yoomi became center of the attention, that is why the remaining months of your junior year, you only had your roommates by your side

Yoomi didn’t even wait for a month to hard-launched her relationship with Yeonjun. You found it pathetic of her but you didn’t care anymore. All the tears you’ve cried turned into a loathing feeling for Yoomi, and there’s not a single day that you wish for her downfall.

It seems like karma has been hearing your prayers. Yoomi’s scholarship is one of the reasons why she can study in a prestigious university like Decelis University, and losing it just in time for senior year can be painful. But you’re overjoyed by the news, wishing that it’ll get worse like her being unable to finish college. You couldn’t help but to lightly chuckle as you took another sip from your beer, chugging it down until its last drop.

“Hey,” your thoughts trailed off when you picked-up a masculine voice. You turned to your right to see a guy around your age standing beside you. He’s leaning against the counter with a bottle of beer in his hand. He’s hot with his slicked-back hair, wearing a cotton polo shirt tucked-in snuggly in his cotton pants — contrasting all the streetwear-dressed guys in the club.

“Hi,” you offered a smile, mentally preparing yourself to reject him. You didn’t go to the club to be picked-up by a stranger after all.

“You’re alone?” he asked and you only laughed. Of course. That's the first thing a guy would ask.

“Do you see me talking to someone?” you raised an eyebrow, and that made him chuckle.

“Well, you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you?” he offered, stretching his hand. “I’m Jay.”

You stopped your tracks, blinking to sink in his name. Jay. That name sounds so familiar but you couldn’t point a finger about it.

“Jay,” you breathe. “You go to Decelis University?”

He seems to be surprised by your question. “Yeah, you probably heard of Arcanum? I’m their electric guitarist.”

Fuck. You cursed internally, eyes turning wide. Park Jongseong. Jay. Studies Marketing and Advertising. Electric guitarist of Decelis University’s university band, Arcanum.

Jay. Your ex-best friend Yoomi’s first love. They go to the same school back in her hometown. Her long-time crush who she followed to Decelis University just to have a chance with him. The guy who’s band gig she attends wherever it is. The guy who made Yoomi hyperventilate when Jay glanced at her for a split second.

And maybe the reason why you didn’t suspect Yoomi to take a liking to Yeonjun is because her goal has always been Jay.

Jay, who seems to be Yoomi’s universe, is standing in front of you, and casually flirting with you — something that Yoomi never had the chance to do.

It was as if karma really is doing god’s work. All of Yoomi’s desperate attempts to be noticed by Jay didn’t stand a chance the moment Jay approached you first. The bulb inside your brain suddenly lightens up and suddenly, a plan is circulating in your mind.

“So you’re the electric guitarist,” you smiled. “I admit, your solo performance during the year-end concert was hot.”

“You think I’m hot?” he asked amusingly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jay,” you laughed. “You’ll be much hotter if you buy me another bottle of beer though.”

“If that’s the only thing that can continue this conversation, I’ll be happy to.”

Gotcha. You watched as Jay called out the bartender to order another bottle of beer for you. How you managed to do it so easy was probably karma’s doing and you’re thanking the heavens for siding on you.

As the night deepens, you and Jay shared an endless conversation about you two. Jumping from one topic to another, and you didn’t miss the subtle flirty remarks he would throw at any chance he could. It didn’t even strike you that the longer your talks were, the less people had become inside the club.

“It’s almost four,” Jay said. “I think they’re just waiting for us to leave.”

You scanned the whole club and there’s only a few people around. You only had three bottles of beer that night and it was enough for you. You don’t even feel a hint of tipsiness in your system, that’s why you glanced at Jay and smiled,

“I think that’s our cue then,” you said, grabbing your purse and fishing out your wallet when Jay had already handed over his card.

“So, am I hotter now that I bought you a bottle of beer?” he jokes.

“You sound like you want some affirmations from me,” you smirked.

“I’ll be happy to hear affirmations from a pretty girl like you.”

That made you chuckle. “Sure Jay, thanks for the drinks.” you jumped out from the high stool when Jay tapped your shoulder.

“I’m not really the type to do this but,” Jay started, and you can sense a hint of hesitation in his tone. “But do you wanna go to my place?”

You stared at him for a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m not that type of girl.”

“It’s okay, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” he quickly said, and you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Most guys will be persistent to take a girl home, but Jay looks away from you embarrassed.

“I didn’t, don’t worry,” you gave him a smile. You lean towards him, tiptoe-ing to land a kiss on his cheeks.

“Maybe take me on a date or two, then I can go to your place,” you whispered to his left ear.

You gave him a wave before you turned around and started walking away when you heard Jay call out your name again.

“Then, when can I see you again!?” he asked.

You turned around and only smiled at him, “you go to Decelis right? If we bumped into each other, then maybe that’s fate’s way of telling me to go on a date with you.”

You didn’t even let him say another word. You probably have left him speechless as you walked out of the club. The cold air welcomed you as you walked your way towards your car.

As you sat in the driver’s seat, that’s when you let out a loud laugh that you’ve been holding back throughout the night. Slapping your steering wheel harshly as you laugh until the air in your lungs weakens you.

Catching your breath, you leaned against your seat as you sinked in your mind that you spent the night flirting with Jay — and if you were being petty, you would’ve accepted his invitation.

Sure it was inviting but short. If you would’ve slept with Jay, that’s just it. You’re just the girl that banged her ex-best friend’s long-time crush and for you, it’s a bit shallow to get back to Yoomi. You wanted her to suffer. To be hurt slowly just like what she did to you. That’s why you’re curating a perfect revenge plan — get back to her by dating the guy that she could never have.

And Park Jongseong? Well, he’s just the perfect tool for your revenge. But first, you just have to make sure that your plan is actually a sign from the gods themselves. And the only way to find out is if you ever encounter Jay again.

They say that a university is big if you’re looking for someone, and small if you’re avoiding someone.

If they ask you which one is you, neither of them. You couldn’t avoid Yoomi since she’s your classmate and you curse Decelis’ blocked section policy for letting you see her and your friend group everyday.

You’re not looking for someone too. And if that someone is named Park Jongseong, then yes, you’re definitely not looking for someone. It’s been two weeks since your encounter with Jay and you’ve given up easily. Now, you’re just praying for karma to do all the work.

It was past five in the afternoon. Your last class just ended and your roommates are waiting for you at a Pho stall outside the university for dinner.

You walked your way towards the university’s nearest exit. The sky slowly turns into shades of purple and deep orange, the sun is about to set and you can feel the cool breeze. You hum lightly as you listen to your music on the way.

That’s when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, startling you as you turned around and behold —

“Found you,” he teased.

It was obvious in your eyes that you were surprised to see him. Removing your earphones while processing your thoughts.

“I guessed you’re too stunned to see me,” Jay teases again, making you snap out of your daze.

You chuckled nervously, “what? You just scared me, that’s all.”

“Really? Well now that I finally found you, how about we talk about your promise?”

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked instead.

Jay tilts his head amusingly. “Not really, let’s just say fate is doing its work.”

Funny. You thought. It’s the same sign that you’re looking to continue your plan. You weren’t able to say another thing as Jay stood there waiting for your answer.

And suddenly, that scene from Yeonjun’s dorm flashed in your mind. It has always been engraved in your mind how close they were. Their intimate position as Yeonjun looked at you with shock while Yoomi was glad that you caught both of them.

Then you remember the times you accompanied Yoomi to Jay’s gig. How she would shout his name so loud that you looked away embarrassed. How she crashed out when Jay reposted her instagram story of his photo taken by her. You remembered how deep Yoomi’s love for Jay — ever since high school, Jay has always been the guy that she wanted to marry.

You told yourself that if you ever crossed paths with Jay again, it’ll be the sign to get back to Yoomi. That this is karma’s way to tell you that you should do it instead of waiting for them. Now, Jay found you and is eager to get that date, what’s holding you back now?

It’s the last year of your college. Why not end it with pettiness and hatred? You don’t want to graduate college with pain and trauma, and surely, you don’t want to be the bigger person who’ll forgive and forget — no, you were never always the bigger person. Not when there’s nothing to forgive and forget because both Yeonjun and Yoomi weren’t sorry for their actions.

“Like, right now?” You asked Jay.

Jay merely shrugs, “I mean if you want to, but if you want a splendid, prepared date, we can also have that one.”

You clicked your tongue. Pondering if this is worth ditching Yunjin and Jake.

And it didn’t take you a minute to decide. You fished out your phone and started typing a message to your roommates.

3rd floor besties <3

Yn: Can’t go. Jay asked me to have dinner with him. I’ll spare the details later.

5:23 pm

Yunjin: JAY ???? THE GUY THAT Yoomi LIKES ???

5:24 pm

Jake: Guessed he found you lmao. He’s been yapping about you since that night at the club.

5:24 pm

Yunjin: GO FOR IT GURLIE WE LOVE TO SEE IT.

5:24 pm

You chose to not reply to your roommates and instead, placed your phone in your jeans pocket.

“So, where should we spontaneously go for a dinner date?” You asked.

“You sure, you don’t mind ditching your friends?” he throws back the question.

You only shrugged, “they’ll be fine. So, where are we going?”

“You take the pick, I’m okay with anything.”

You and Jay stumbled upon a small chinese eatery just five minutes away from the university gate. It’s a bit crowded and maybe, your pho cravings can be replaced with xiao long bao.

As soon as the server left the table, that’s when an awkward atmosphere emitted between the two of you. You didn’t know what to say compared that night wherein alcohol took a huge part in your courage.

“So, how have you been?” Jay started, making you glance at him.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I’m doing okay actually, how about you? You seem like you were glad to see me.”

“I’m going to be honest but I actually am glad to see you.”

For Jay, the university was big yet small as he looked for you.

He never felt so pathetic in his life before. One of his mistakes was not asking for your socials and damn you, for telling him that it’ll be fate for you two to meet again. He’s not even a spiritual person and whatever you said made him think if you’re interested in him or not.

A week or two felt like a hopeless case, it wasn’t until his idiotic friend, Jake Sim only recently told him that you’re his roommate — after weeks of him venting his frustration.

“You’re down bad,” Jake jokingly said.

“Shut up and just tell me about her college program,” Jay hastily said.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Jake said in a serious tone. “Her last relationship was fucked-up, her ex was a fucking asshole that cheated on her.”

Jay didn’t question Jake’s protective tone. He only nods as he assures his friend that he doesn’t have any bad intentions towards you. He understands why it took Jake a while for him to say that you’re his roommates.

That’s when he got to know you. You’re a senior like him. You study diplomatics which is on the other side of the university — far from his building. While it’s stupid for him to stand outside your department building looking like a stalker, Jay took the courage to pass by the building in hopes of bumping into you.

And it seems like favor is on him because you two met midway that what he was supposed to plan.

“Jake told you huh?” you laughed after hearing Jay’s story.

“Yeah, he also told me some stuff,” Jay replied, making you stop. You glanced at him, heart beating fast.

“About your ex, you know, he’s an asshole who doesn't deserve you.”

You only smile at him. “It’s kinda traumatic for me, what happened and — Jay, I just want to tell you that I’m not that ready to enter a serious relationship.”

“You can back out now before I use you in my plan,” was what you actually meant.

“And I am not rushing you,” Jay answered. “Let’s just keep it casual okay? Get to know each other, and go on a few dates.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “you’re eager huh?”

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” Jay truthfully said. So casual and simply that he didn’t know it shot an arrow to your heart.

That was your sign.

“I think he likes me,” you started. After the dinner, Jay walked you to your dorm where Jake and Yunjin were waiting. You can see through the floor balcony that the two of them were waiting for you like a parent whose daughter went past her curfew.

“Likes you? Dude, he’s down bad!” Jake pointed out. “I swear, every time I was with him, he’s all frustrated because he couldn’t find you.”

“And it took you two weeks to tell him that you’re y/n’s roommate?” Yunjin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it’ll pass, but two weeks and he still keeps on looking for y/n had me thinking that he’s so desperate,” Jake shrugs.

You let out a frustrated groan, getting your roommate’s attention.

“You guys be honest, am I petty if I want to date Jay just to get back to Yoomi?” you asked.

The two of them only stared at you, making you let out a sigh again.

“It’s stupid right? I shouldn’t do it —”

“No, no, if it gives you the satisfaction of getting back to Yoomi, then why not?” Yunjin answered.

“Just make sure you don’t hurt Jay, he seems genuine about you,” Jake added.

You only stared at them for a good minute. “This is a bad idea right?”

Both your roommates looked at each other. Yunjin signaled Jake who only groaned as he glanced back at you. He fixes his glasses like he’s sort of a scientist while he leans against the railings of the balcony.

“Y/n, I’m telling you this as Jay’s friend. If you plan on using Jay just to get back to Yoomi, then don’t do it. Don’t involve innocent people around here — regardless how much Yoomi hurt you,” Jake explained.

“Yeah, who knows, maybe it’ll go back to you too,” Yunjin added.

You only nod at their words. “But Jay really likes me — but I’m not ready for a relationship. The only reason why I said yes was because I was really planning on getting back to Yoomi.”

The three of you fell into an awkward silence. Silently pondering your words, both your roommates knew how much it hurted you, and while they’re in to tolerate your pettiness, an innocent person is on the line.

Then, Yunjin’s face lights up, snapping her fingers to get your attention.

“Just think of it this way y/n, Jay likes you and not Yoomi. Yoomi has been obsessing with Jay for god knows how long, and you got him wrapped around your finger that easily. Just date him casually! Just show to Yoomi that you can have Jay and she can’t — and she’s dating that trash of your ex too.” Yunjin explained.

“Yunjin’s right, and Jay told you that he’s not rushing you right? You’re not pressured to date him exclusively too. Get to know him too, who knows maybe you two end up friends instead,” Jake added.

“Wait, that answers my worry! I can also reject Jay since he knew from the start that I am not ready for a committed relationship,” you pointed out.

“Jay’s a nice guy y/n, he’ll understand if you reject him too,” Jake stated.

You let out a loud sigh of relief. The plan was simple: date Jay and show Yoomi that. You didn’t need some splendid action to be the end of your revenge. It didn’t matter to you its aftermath. All you can think about is stretching it long enough to make it believable.

And probably long enough for Yoomi to confront you and shove in her face that Jay’s interested in you — not her. That’ll destroy her.

“Just don’t overthink about it,” Yunjin stated. “I know how you tend to mix your decisions with your emotions. Always think rationally okay? Go with the flow and everything.”

You only looked at her with an assuring smile, “don’t worry, no feelings involved in this one.”

You always wonder why luck is always on Yoomi’s side.

Of course, she managed to maintain her scholarship despite not maintaining her gpa. A bit unfair but you heard that she pulled a few strings to your college dean just so she can still have her scholarship until graduation.

Now, she’s all over her instagram story having a “story time” that’s about 20+ slides and you seriously wonder if there are people who are willing to watch those — maybe those who are interested in her life just to talk shit about her.

“Look at this,” Yunjin laughed, showing you a screenshot of Yoomi’s ig story. In the post, she shared how Yeonjun comforted her by buying her flowers from a nearby flower shop and took her to her favorite coffee shop so that the two of them could have a study date.

She shared that being able to maintain her scholarship was a gift and now, she’ll work hard to maintain her gpa. (and in case her followers don’t know, she’s running for summa cum laude.)

“Ugh, does she ever think that no one gives a fuck about her life story?” Yoomi’s an open book for everyone. She shares the most insane tmi’s on her social media which dilutes her personality. But what bothers you is that no one never dared to call her out and give her a reality check. Everyone in your department knows that you dated Yeonjun before she did, but no one…not even one, bat an eye on the situation.

“I feel like only a few people do, but I do like scouring through her instagram story just to laugh at it,” Yunjin snickered.

“You’re so mean,” you mocked. “How can you do that to sweet little Yoomi?”

“Shut up, you literally loathe her,” the two of you bursted into laughter as you two decided that it’s time to return to your class after staying in a cafe during lunch time.

“By the way, when are you going to meet Jay again?” Yunjin asked.

“This Saturday,” you answered simply. During your spontaneous date, you and Jay exchanged socials and numbers. He immediately sent you a text after he reached his place, and your conversation continued ever since.

“What’s the plan?” Yunjin asked.

“I don’t have any,” you shrugged. “I’ll just think that we’re casually dating, and let Yoomi discover it herself.”

“So, no soft-launches or instagram stories?”

“None for me. It’ll be obvious if I post Jay, but if Jay posts me?” you let out a small laugh. “And Yoomi sees it? Oh that’ll crash her.”

Yunjin gasps, “god you’re so genius for that! You’re really taking this seriously aren’t you?”

And before you could answer, your eyes caught a glimpse of Yoomi and Yeonjun walking together towards the entrance of the department building. You stop as you observe how Yoomi’s talking non stop as she clings around Yeonjun’s arms.

Instead of answering Yunjin, you only gave her a glance before shifting your gaze back to the couple. You can hear Yunjin imitating a gagging sound which only makes you chuckle.

“I hope they get caught by our discipline officer,” Yunjin muttered with disgust.

“I just hope they break up in the ugliest way possible,” you mumbled.

When Saturday arrived, you managed to slip out of your bed at 10 in the morning. Groaning as you enter the kitchen where Jake is.

“Woah, you don’t seem prepared for your date,” Jake teases.

“Why did I agree to meet him during lunch time,” you complained, pouring yourself a glass of water.

“It’s Jay that we’re talking about, who knows what he got under sleeves,” your roommate laughed. “Goodluck on your date, just keep it casual okay?”

“Yes dad,” you mocked.

You only ate a piece of bread with spread as your breakfast before returning to your room to prepare. Jay has sent you a message that he’ll pick you up at twelve noon.

You fished out one of your casual clothes which is a soft cardigan and summer dress. You paired it with your mary jane doll shoes and kept your hair untied and flowy. After putting on some light makeup and accessories, you went out of your room to wait for Jay. You strut down towards the living where Yunjin and Jake are watching some series.

“Oh my god, you look so gorgeous! You really prepared yourself, didn't you?” Yunjin compliments.

“If it wasn’t for your revenge thingy, I would assume that you’re dressing to impress Jay,” Jake comments, earning a light punch from you.

“Shut up, if he ever posts me on his social media, I should at least prepare myself right?” you pointed out, making the two laugh.

And before the conversation could continue, you heard the doorbell of your flat ring, which indicated that Jay’s here.

“Wow he’s early. He’s never been early in his band practices,” Jake stated.

“He’s excited for you!” Yunjin squealed, shaking your shoulders as she pushed you towards the entrance.

You only laugh as you stop in front of the door, glancing at your roommates who only shushes you to answer the door.

Jay stood there in his glory, and like the first time you two met — he’s rocking his signature polo shirt but this time, it’s a loose and button-down, paired with formal slacks. He styled his hair in a boyish look which complimented him more.

“Hi,” he greets you with a smile, and before you could say anything, he pulls something from his back. “Flowers?”

You could only smile as you grabbed the bouquet from him. “Lilies! How did you —”

“Thank me later!” Jake interrupted, which made you realise that your two roommates have been watching the scene.

“Right —” you only chuckled, “Jay, my roommates Yunjin and Jake, you probably know them.”

“Hi!” Yunjin greets lightly.

“I hope we get some leftovers from your date,” Jake casually said.

You only laughed at their comments before glancing at Jay. “should we get going?”

“I’ll bring back y/n later at night,” Jay excused, grabbing your hand before waving goodbye to the two.

“Enjoy your date!” Yunjin giggled.

“Our leftovers, don’t forget!” Jake repeated.

You and Jay were laughing on the way down and towards his car.

“Remind me to buy Jake some food okay?” Jay jokes as he turns on the engine of his car, driving away from your dorm in a slow manner.

“You really owe him big time huh?” you teased, glancing at the bouquet that he gave you. You always love lilies. The arrangement was gorgeous with small daisies and baby breaths wrapped around a delicate white and baby pink wrapper.

“Without him, I wouldn’t be able to know more about you,” Jay explained, eyes still focused on the road. “That idiot took his time to tell me that you’re his roommate.”

You only laughed, “small world right?”

“Right.”

After an hour of driving, you catched a glimpse of the place that Jay bought you. You only glanced at him who’s smiling as he turned the car towards the entrance.

“An oceanarium, what an interesting choice,” you teased, but there’s a huge smile on your face.

“You like it?” he asked.

You hummed for a minute, “Jake told you that I like the ocean?”

“You do?” Jay laughs, “no, this is just a coincidence but glad to know that I brought you to the right place.”

The oceanarium was crowded when you two went to the entrance. It took you a half an hour waiting time for the two of you to enter.

Displays of aquariums welcomed you two. Your mouth gasping at the glass ceiling where marine creatures swam freely around the space. You were too immersed with the view that you had forgotten Jay who’s walking behind you. Smiling as he watches you be in awe at the place.

He lets you walk around the area, following you wherever you want. You didn’t even notice how every time you’re standing in daze in front of an aquarium, Jay fishes out his phone to take a photo of you. His smile never left as he placed his phone back in his pocket.

“You know, I always wanted to be a marine biologist,” you started, staring at the stingray passing by.

Jay leans towards the aquarium, scanning the whole place. “Really? That’s a bit far from your program.”

“Decelis doesn’t offer that marine biology,” you only smiled. “But I’m content with my program.”

Jay only chuckled. The two of you stood there, trying to be immersed with the place. The blue waters painting you two in that hue as the faint background of the ocean waves played on the speaker.

“Wow,” you mumbled, catching a glimpse of a school of angelfish passing by.

Jay on the other hand, couldn’t help but to keep on glancing at you. Smiling like an idiot because he chose the right place to take you. His eyes darted on your hand freely hanging. For a second Jay pondered, but his courage won over him.

You were a bit startled when you felt Jay’s fingers brushing against yours, and in a split second, his hands slipped onto yours, intertwining with your fingers. You glanced at Jay and he only gave you a smile, tugging your heart in a light manner.

“Should we go to the next area?”

The two of you walked together towards the next area, a dimmed room filled with small exhibitions of marine creatures that can be found in the deeper part of the ocean. Jay can hear your soft gasps and astonishment as your head scans every display. You two walked further until you two reached a larger area.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, quickly walking towards the huge glass that displayed a swarm of jellyfish, unknowingly you let go of Jay’s hand. You stood there, hands clasping on the glass as you watched them glow brightly under the dark blue waters, igniting a white light as it swims freely around the area.

Jay remained standing from where he was standing, snapping another photo of you. He stared at it for a good minute, thinking how you look so beautiful despite the little light the place beams. He watched as you turned around, motioning him to come to you, which Jay only smiled as he walked towards you.

“It’s so beautiful right?” you said, eyes never leaving the display.

“Yeah, so beautiful” and as you looked at Jay, he was only staring at you. You can feel your face heating up, making you look away embarrassed. You can hear Jay’s soft chuckle, making you lightly punch his arms.

“Stop that won’t you?” you muttered, embarrassed.

“You look cute when you’re flustered,” Jay teased.

“Shut up Jay,” you whined, walking away from the area, which only Jay followed you with a teasing smile on his face.

After looking at every display inside the oceanarium, you two stumbled upon the souvenir shop where you found yourself staring at a small selection of keychains.

“Found yourself something?” Jay asked, making you shift your head to him, before glancing at the keychain again.

“Nothing, let’s go,” you said, but Jay pulls you.

“You want the keychain? Come on, it’s cute,” Jay said, grabbing the starfish and jellyfish.

“No, it’s okay, it’s a bit pricey too —”

“It’s on me, don’t worry,” Jay assured, and before you could even rebut, Jay had made his way towards the counter, fishing out his wallet and paying the keychains with ease.

“Here,” Jay hands you the jellyfish keychain, smiling at you as he waved the plastic bag with the other keychain inside.

“So that we can match,” he pointed out, and that only made you laugh.

“Fine, if you insist,” but nonchalantly said, but deep inside you can feel your heart beating fast.

You and Jay had a late lunch at a local restaurant near the oceanarium, enjoying a hearty meal with a side of takeout for your two hungry roommates. You two shared a few conversations and you’ve learned more about Jay — shifting the conversation to Yoomi.

“I do know her, she was a schoolmate of mine, I was surprised that she studies in Decelis,” Jay laughs. “Why? What’s with Yoomi?”

You only bite your lips, suppressing a bitter laugh, “she used to be a friend of mine but she stole my boyfriend and yeah,” shrugging it off as you focus your attention on your meal.

“Wait, your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend?” Jay asked, appalled.

You shrugged once again, “guess it was like that, I didn’t ask for an explanation because damn, what for right?”

“Wow,” Jay said, shocked. He leaned against his seat as he tried to sink everything. “Damn, they’re a bunch of assholes.”

“I know but let’s just change the topic before I lose my appetite here,” you jokingly said.

“I can’t believe it,” Jay leans against his chair. “I mean this is just an impression but I never thought Yoomi would do that.”

That’s when you bitterly smiled, “I thought so too.” you said with disappointment.

Thankfully, Jay didn’t push further. He darted his attention to his meal instead, having you two eat in silence. You knew that bringing up your past may be an awkward thing to do during dates but the least you can do is give Jay a hint about your past relationship.

The drive on the way back was quiet, yet comfortable. You could only listen to the music playing on the car’s stereo, a collection of old love songs that Jay had played from his phone. It was a random choice but it completely suited the vibe of the evening. You watched from the window the busy streets of the city. People walking down the streets, the opened establishments of local stores and their colorful signs, glistening just like the street lights. Everything just feels serene for you.

Soon, you two reached your place. As Jay parked the car on the side, that’s when you realized that you just finished your date.

“I had fun,” you blurted out. Removing your seatbelt before giving Jay a glance. “Thank you Jay for this day.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Jay said, and the next thing you knew, his hands brushed the stray hairs that covered your face, you were a bit startled but didn’t move.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you could only blink, trying to sink in what he just said.

“Of course Jay,” you smiled.

Jay leans closer to you, making you close your eyes as you feel his soft lips crashing onto yours. It felt surreal for you, but your lips moved on its own as you kissed Jay back. It was soft and gentle, as if he was careful of hurting you. You can feel it that way when his hands never left your face, thumb caressing your cheeks as the kiss continued.

And what felt like an hour broke down the minute you broke from the kiss. Catching your breath as you looked at Jay who had a soft smile on his lips.

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, placing another kiss on your lips. “See you again?”

With that, you lightfully kissed him in the lips again. “Of course, goodnight Jay.”

And just like that, you returned to your apartment with a smile on your lips. More determined to continue your plan on getting back to your ex-best friend.

Monday arrived and Yoomi cornered you in the hallway.

“You went out on a date with Jay,” she said to you, looking more betrayed than ever.

“How did you know?” you asked instead, knowing that Jay didn’t post you in his social media.

“Hana saw you. Jay walked you to your apartment with a bouquet,” she added. Right. You thought. You almost forgot you have a former friend who lives nearby your dorm.

“It’s just a date,” you shrugged casually, knowing that Yoomi doesn’t take a ‘date with Jay’ lightly. She’ll sell her soul just to have a date with Jay.

“You knew I liked Jay from the start,” Yoomi gritted her teeth. “Have you ever heard of girl’s code?”

That’s when a mocking laughter escaped your lips, “funny that you said that, ever heard of it when you went behind my back and stole Yeonjun?”

“Yeonjun approached me first,” she explained, her tone becoming soft like she was asking for your sympathy. “And I know that it was mistake but for the first time, someone noticed me and I couldn’t help it —”

“Even if it was your best friend’s boyfriend?”

“You were too good for Yeonjun anyway! You never prioritise your relationship with him and become too focused on your academics.” she immediately rebutted, tone shifting into a defensive one.

Her words made you let out a chuckle. Her reason made no sense for you, and it just fueled your anger at her. It didn’t make any sense that your academics will be the reason for you to be cheated — Yeonjun knew that from the start, it has always been your priority. You two always had study dates, and sometimes Yoomi would even join you too. So it didn’t made sense for you why that’s the reason for your life to get fucked.

You couldn’t believe that after a year of cutting her off, this is the first time you’ll confront her. So much for a Monday morning for you. You always convince yourself that there’s no need to hear her side, but there’s a small itch inside you that wants to know — in hopes that maybe it can heal a bit of the huge damage that scarred you.

“Is that so?” you raised an eyebrow. “Well, for your information, Jay approached me first, and for the first time ever since Yeonjun and I broke up, someone noticed me. So I guess we’re even.”

You can see in her eyes that she was surprised. Her eyes started to water as if she was stabbed in her heart with a long dagger. And as you stare at her with a bored look, a bitter smile forms on your lips. “Why are you so bothered that I am seeing Jay? You have Yeonjun already, right?”

Yoomi didn’t say anything. She stood there frozen as you lazily shrugged your shoulders. “Yoomi, Jay was never yours in the first place right? So there’s nothing wrong with me dating him,” you explained. “And there’s no girl’s code here, because we’re not friends anymore either.”

You gave her a genuine smile before you left her there standing. You walked your way towards your classroom when you felt your phone vibrating. Grabbing it, you smiled as you received a text from Jay. Talking about good timing, he asked you to hangout with him after school.

“Of course,” you mumbled as you sent your reply to him.

You felt satisfied with the confrontation. Now that Yoomi knows that you’re dating Jay, you wanted to crush her even more. More dates, more show-off. And who knows, maybe you’ll get to sleep with Jay too. That’s not part of your plan but you know that it’ll leave Yoomi into insanity.

The day moved at a fast pace, the next thing you knew, your prof dismissed the class with a few reminders. As you pack your things, Yunjin eyes on you teasingly.

“You’re going to ditch us again huh? Is this what having a love life feels like!?” Unlike you, Yunjin likes throwing remarks, and she made sure her voice is loud enough for Yoomi to turn her head towards your direction.

“It’s nothing, he just asked me if we can hangout later,” you casually said.

“You’re so shameless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes making you laugh.

You can feel Yoomi’s eyes never leaving yours, and you faintly smirked as you and Yunjin exit the classroom.

Outside the department, Jay was waiting near the benches. As soon as he saw you, Jay smiled as he approached you and Yunjin. You can feel the stares darting towards you and Jay, that’s when you remember that Jay’s kinda famous around the campus because of Arcanum. You didn’t like the attention, but knowing that any minute, Yoomi will exit the building, you let it be.

“Hi,” Jay greets, smiling at you two. “Hi Yunjin.”

“Thanks for the leftovers by the way, hopefully we can have some again tonight,” Yunjin teased, making you elbow your friend.

“Ignore her,” you laughed. “Let’s go?”

You and Jay began walking towards the parking lot. This isn’t the first time you and Jay had walked together inside the campus, but this is like your ‘soft-launch’ with your relationship with him, given that he was carrying your tote bag throughout the whole time.

And if that doesn’t give you satisfaction, Yunjin sent you a message saying that Yoomi saw you and Jay leave together, making you smile as you put down your phone in your pocket.

“You’re smiling,” Jay pointed out.

You only hum lightly, grabbing Jay’s hands and intertwining it with yours. You felt the way Jay was surprised by your actions, but let it be, his smile turning wider.

“Just in a happy mood,” you explained. “So, where are we going?”

You found yourself in a familiar place — The Rabbit Hole, which is a mixture of coffee shop and bar lounge. It’s Arcanum’s usual spot for their gig. You’re so familiar with the place that you know that their gig starts at seven in the evening. And by seven, the place will be crowded with their fans and students, it’ll be loud, a bit chaotic but it’s a good chaos.

It made you wonder if Yoomi’s going to show up to support Jay since she never missed Arcanum’s gig. You sat by a corner table, your tote bag placed on top as you scan the menu.

“Hi! You’re here again!” The Rabbit Hole is under Decelis University’s funding, and often one of their students would work there as part-timers. One of them being Kim Sunoo, who’s smile never fades especially when it’s a full house.

“Hi Sunoo! I miss you,” you smiled, giving the junior a hug. “How’s work here?”

“All the same, but it was nice seeing you again! You’re my favorite customer, you know?” he complimented.

“Thanks Sunoo, I’ll have the usual, you still remember it right?” you said.

“Of course, orange flower cocktail and wedged fries. Just sit back and relax, because it seems like Arcanum has a special performance tonight,” the younger winks at you before leaving towards the kitchen. His words leave you wondering as you watch Arcanum set up.

It didn’t take a while for the place to be filled with people. You can see your fellow schoolmates still in their department uniform, not even bother changing clothes. Locals and supporters also filled the area. It had become so busy that Sunoo moved you to the bar counter in which you were accompanied by their new part-timer named Riki.

You only munched on your fries as you scanned the whole place, and near the stage you saw Yoomi, along with some of your former friends, talking as they waited for Arcanum’s performance. You watched as they laughed and cheered their colorful cocktails while you sat on the corner, eating your soggy fries and drinking your melted drink.

You can feel a tug on your heart, watching how they had fun especially when you used to have a place there. You never felt more lonely by the counter, wishing that you brought your roommates along with you.

A static sound interrupted your thoughts, shifting your attention to the stage where Arcanum’s main vocalist and bassist, Lee Heeseung taps the mic. He waves to the crowd and smiles, earning a few screams from their fans.

“Are you guys ready to have fun!?” he shouted, and the crowd shouted “yes!” in response. You can see the smirk from the oldest as he glances at his bandmates. Your eyes darted on Jay who changed his uniform to a casual streetwear outfit — far different from his usual looks but he looks good.

“I think the energy is still low hyung,” Jungwon, who’s on the drums, teases. Earning a few uproar from the crowd, which made the band laugh.

“Let me ask one more time, are you guys ready to have fun!?” This time, the crowd became louder, enough for you to be startled. You hear Heeseung laugh as he counts down from three and with that, they begin playing their song.

From the many times you attended their gig, this is the first time you decided to watch their performance. Eyes locked on the stage as Heeseung began singing, making you realise that there’s a reason why they’re popular despite being a university band.

The crowd was singing along, making you an odd one out who’s only nodding her head along the beat. Your eyes darted on Jay, you watched as he passionately played the instrument. He was feeling it like he was a rockstar

Damn. You couldn’t help but to lock your eyes on him. He was absolutely heaven to stare at, and it only took you this time to realise why girls like Yoomi go crazy over him. It didn’t sink into you that you’ve been staring for too long that when Jay glanced at you, you were surprised. But you saw how Jay smiled before winking at you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, unknown how Jay had this effect on you.

Arcanum performed five songs, with a few pause for the band’s introduction and their self-composed songs. They were fun to watch. They interacted with the crowd and moreover, made them laugh too.

“But before we move on to our next song, we have a surprise for you guys,” Heeseung started. His eyes darted on Jay, earning a few teases from Jungwon and Sunghoon.

“This is a rare occasion, so you guys are lucky to witness this one,” Sunghoon added.

“Right! We practiced hard for this one,” Jungwon added

You were too focused with their ment that you didn’t felt Sunoo’s nudge until he did it again, you only glanced at the younger who gave you a meaningful smile.

“Okay, we don’t want to wait for too long right? Jay, the floor is yours,” Heeseung exchanges his place with Jay who stood in front of the mic, holding his electric guitar. A few cheers can be heard but you can hear a familiar voice that keeps on screaming “Park Jongseong!”

You shifted your attention towards Yoomi who’s hopping like a bunny, shouting Jay’s full name with her whole heart. Damn. You thought. She really is not over Jay.

“Hi guys, I’m Jay, Arcanum’s electric guitarist,” Jay introduces. “This is kinda cringe, but when you really love someone, you just want to dedicate a few songs to her right?.”

“I don’t think I did that to my girlfriend dude,” Heeseung rebuts, making the room laugh.

Jay only chuckles, “shut up, you wrote a song about her — but anyways, I just want to dedicate a few songs to the girl who holds a place in my heart.” With that, the crowd cooed at Jay's words.

But you felt the world shutting down. Ears muted as you watched Jay glance from where you were sitting. You didn’t notice that you were left stunned, not until you felt Sunoo shaking your shoulder out of teasing.

You can feel it, a few people glancing at you, your heart beating rapidly like crazy. Things didn’t sink in your mind until Jay strummed the first chords of the song.

“I love you. But I don't really show you,” the lyrics said. You watch as Jay serenades the crowd with a song that you knew very well talks about love. You can hear the cheers, and then there’s the whispers, oblivious people wondering who the special girl was.

Jay sang the song with much sincerity, ending it with a short guitar solo which made the crowd be in awe with his skills. Screams and shouts continued until the last chord. You couldn’t help but to applause, a smile forming on your lips as you stood up from your chair.

“Seems like they love your voice Jay-hyung,” Jungwon complimented, making the audience laugh, chanting Jay’s name which made the boy flustered.

“Do you guys want more?” he asked, and all he received was a loud yes from the crowd.

“Alright, for the next one, it’s a new song we composed. It's a bit chill but I hope you guys like it,” Jay said, turning around to his bandmate who immediately got the cue.

Sunghoon started off the song with a short intro from his keyboards. It was soft and gentle, almost like a lullaby. It wasn’t until Jungwon accompanied it with drums then came along the bass and guitar.

It felt unreal, a song that when you first hear, you’ll feel like you’re falling in love. You were hooked by the melody, watching as Jay glanced at you before turning his attention to the crowd.

“X-O, X-O, kiss me, don't let go,” Jay sang, smiling ear to ear as he sang the lyrics in an upbeat manner.

It was cute, yet short, all you can hear was Jay’s vocals, sometimes harmonizing with his bandmates. You didn’t even notice that the song had ended, if it wasn’t for the crowd’s cheering, you would have been caught in daze due to the performance.

“So what Jay was trying to say, he deserves a kiss from his special girl,” Heeseung stated, which earned a few screams from the crowd.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Sunghoon shouted, starting the chant which was followed by the crowd.

You only laugh as you try to sink in your seat, embarrassed. But it didn’t help that Sunoo and Riki teamed-up to pull you up from your seat, almost carrying you as the crowd’s chants got louder the moment you reached the stage. You were left with no choice but to face it especially when the two juniors pushed you specifically at Jay who managed to get a hold of you from falling.

You can hear the crowd teasing the two of you. If it wasn’t enough, Jay’s bandmates joined the fun too, you could only hide behind Jay’s back but Heeseung managed to pull you away from Jay.

“Nice to meet you Jay’s special girl,” Heeseung smiles and you only chuckled. Facing him since you were left with no choice but to accept the request. “You don’t mind it right? The crowd’s curious about you because this is like the first time Jay sang during a gig, so consider yourself lucky.”

Your eyes widen at Heeseung’s words, hiding your flustered feeling by letting out an awkward laugh. Your words got stuck on your throat as you only glanced at Jay who’s like a confused cat, standing in front of you.

“You’ll be okay with it?” Jay asked you, tone hinted with worry.

That’s when you can feel from your peripheral vision that your ex-best friend is watching every move that you’ll do. Everything’s coming into pieces for you. Although the peer pressure is there, what would be more satisfying than seeing Yoomi’s reaction especially when she just confronted you earlier this morning?

“I don’t mind,” you answered Jay, giving him a small smile before signaling him to lean closer.

But you wanted to tease a little bit, hence, your lips landed on his cheeks which caused an uproar from the audience. They kept on chanting that you two should kiss again, but you only shook your head while Jay was speechless.

“Okay that’s enough pda, we don’t want to get suspended by our uni alright? Y/n is still in her uniform guys,” Heeseung managed to calm down the crowd, while you and Jay remained there frozen. You can hear Jungwon and Sunghoon’s laughters from behind, before they went near the two of you, teasing Jay who could only looked away with his ears turning red.

After that scandalous scene, Arcanum performed a few songs and covers before they finished their gig. You watched as the band members got swarmed by a few people. They attentively took their time to take photos and signed some papers for them. They weren’t just popular for their music, but they were also kind and soft-hearted. Each interaction was genuine.

Your eyes shifted to Jay who’s busy talking to a fan when you noticed that Yoomi was approaching him. You stopped your tracks, standing up from your seat which caught Jay’s attention, making an eye contact with you, you only gave him a quick smile which made him excuse himself from the fans — not even sparing a glance at Yoomi who wasn’t able to tap his shoulders.

“Sorry it took a bit long, we were supposed to end around nine,” he apologized as soon as he’s in front of you. It was nearing ten and the place was still crowded, with the speakers blasting a few pop songs to hype up the crowd.

“It’s okay, I enjoyed your performance,” you gave him a smile. From where you were sitting, you witnessed how Yoomi returned to her table disappointed, which made you smile even wider.

“I’m glad you did. I was supposed to take you to dinner but it’s getting late already.” Jay sighed in relief.

“It’s okay, I did order food while watching your gig.” you insisted.

“How about this, we can have dinner some other time.” Jay suggested, making you raise an eyebrow.

“And where’s this dinner going to be held huh?”

How you ended up in Jay’s apartment wasn't what you expected. And yet, you’re there standing in front of his door, ringing the bell twice, and just thinking “whatever happens tonight, happens.”

It’s been a few days since the Rabbit Hole gig. Your little stunt spread throughout Decelis — which instantly concluded that you and Jay are dating, and the only small details students don’t know are whether it is exclusively or casual. Yoomi hasn't bothered you ever since, but you know that she’s been drilling holes whenever you’re near her vicinity. You know that she’s been itching to confront you again, but because of the embarrassment that she felt that night, she distanced herself for some time.

Then you recalled that night you first met Jay, how he asked you to go to his place and you rejected him. Now, everything has come full circle because you’re about to have dinner with him in his place — that is, if dinner will actually happen.

Jay opens the door for you, planting a kiss on your temple as you walk inside. You scanned the whole place. It was huge, clean, and a bit cozy with the jazz music playing on his vinyl record player.

“Your place looks nice,” you complimented.

“Thanks,” Jay muttered, walking towards the kitchen wherein you trailed to.

You watch as Jay busies himself in the kitchen. You can smell the heavenly smell of sauteed garlic and rosemary on butter, pots on the stove boiling some pasta while there’s the sizzling sound of steak on a hot pan.

“That looks delicious,” you peeked through the stove, eyeing Jay's skillful hands as he cooked the sauce. “Is there anything that I can help?”

Jay only gave you a smile as he prepared everything with ease, “no need to worry about dinner, just go sit on the couch, you can watch some series on my tv.”

“Well, I would rather watch you cook instead,” you pursued, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“You’re just here to distract me,” Jay teased, eyes never left the stove.

“Maybe I do have plans on distracting you.”

Jay shifted his glance on you, letting out a soft chuckle as he stole another kiss on your cheeks before passing by you. He heads towards the corner where a stack of wine is placed.

“Want some?” he raises the bottle, and you only nod, watching Jay open the bottle and pour on two glasses. He gave you the other one which you mumbled your thanks, taking a little sip on it, while Jay continued his cooking.

“This is nice,” you hummed. “This is new.”

“Never had homemade dinner with him?” Jay asked, and you knew who he was referring to.

You only shake your head. Memories rushing through your mind, thinking about the dates you and Yeonjun had. Some were grandeur, while some were plain. Most of the time you two would go to coffee shops and study your hearts out. It was quiet and tranquil, and productive too.

Your mind shifted to Yoomi’s words a few days ago, how you were so focused with your academics — wondering if it was also the cause of your relationship’s downfall. That may be the reason why Yeonjun cheated you with Yoomi.

You mindlessly took a sip on the wine as you pondered your thoughts, not noticing the way Jay kept on glancing at you.

“Sorry I brought it up,” Jay blurted out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, just had a little pondering,” you smiled.

“I don’t mind listening,” Jay said, still busying himself with his cooking.

“I think I’m the problem,” you mumbled. “It didn’t surprise me that Yeonjun left me, I’m plain, introvert, and a bit tamed — I always prioritise my studies over anything else, and maybe Yeonjun felt like he’s not a huge part of my life that’s why he left —”

“That doesn’t excuse him cheating and Yoomi going behind your back,” Jay said. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and I admire that you have your goal set. It’s Yeonjun’s problem that he couldn’t accept that.”

You only bitterly laugh as Jay’s words felt comforting, you can hear from his tone that he was defensive about you which you were glad that he was.

“Let’s just forget about them alright? Tonight’s about us,” Jay insisted, and you let him be.

Dinner felt more special especially when Jay took his time plating the dish as he served it in front of you. His smile never leaves his lips as he watches you take a bite from the steak. You could only hum as you took another bite while Jay, who’s in front of you, is waiting for your words.

“God I should just marry you,” you blurted out. “How do you even cook so good?”

“Just some basic skills,” Jay nonchalantly said, making you chuckle.

Dinner continued on, with Jay bringing the wine you two were drinking earlier, accompanied by a heavenly molten cake that he bought from a local pastry shop. The night became deeper as your conversation became endless as you two moved towards the kitchen where the cake and wine remained while you helped Jay with the dishes.

The dishes were on the rack but you and Jay remained in the kitchen, conversation never fading as you two shifted from one topic to another.

“Okay, I want you to be honest,” you laughed, a bit tipsy with the amount of wine you had drank. “Did you find it cringe when I said that fate will find a way for us to meet?”

“Cringe? No, but confused, yeah a bit,” Jay confessed. “Maybe it was a mind game of yours but I was really confused how you rely on fate —”

“So you don’t believe in fate!” you pointed out, laughter becoming loud.

Jay became quiet for a moment, “actually, I did slowly believe in fate, you know that I was supposed to pass by your building? You know, just in case I bumped into you. But it seems like fate made it easier and I found you halfway.”

That’s when you stopped, realizing that Jay’s words had become serious.

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked with a soft tone. “You really don’t want to rely on fate, won’t you?”

“Why wait for the universe to make a move when I can do it by myself?”

At that moment the atmosphere became heavy. Suddenly, you felt tense.

Jay’s sharp gaze remained at you, observing you in every possible way and he couldn’t help but to curse under his breath. Your eyes that were staring at him were so innocent that he wondered where’s the girl who made him chase the game.

His hand slowly trailed to your cheeks, he watched whether you'd flinch or not – but you stood there, eyes never leaving his.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes. “And I won’t do it.”

Your heart skips a beat hearing those words. Your mind started to be clouded by thoughts. This is it. You thought. Doing the worst thing that will crash your ex-best friend’s heart.

How good will it feel to finally get back to Yoomi? It was the first thing that you thought as you pulled Jay for a kiss, an action so brass but you didn’t care. You’ve waited long for this.

Jay responded to your kiss softly. Savoring your lips, as he tastes the lingering chocolate you two had earlier. He gently grabbed you on your waist as he pushed you lightly against the counter, closing the proximity between the two of you. This is way different from the first time you two kissed, something about it felt intense, as if you two are dying to taste each other.

The kiss broke in just a few seconds, you were catching your breath as Jay trailed his lips from your mouth down to your jawline. Peppering soft kisses which left you even more breathless. You can feel his hands playing around the hem of your blouse. Slipping underneath as you felt his hot hands carefully climbing upwards your chest.

“Jay —” you called out but you couldn’t even bother to finish your sentence.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” he assured between his kisses.

“I don’t think we should do it here,” you managed to finish your sentence making Jay stop.

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you felt nervous, wondering if you ruined the atmosphere. But Jay only chuckles as he sealed your lips with his. “If that’s what my girl wants.”

He pulled you out of the kitchen and rushed towards his bedroom. As you two reach the entrance, he opens the door and gestures for you to come inside like some gentleman he is. You only laughed as you walked past through him, but you shortly let out a yelp as he smacked your ass in the process.

You hear Jay chuckle as he closes and locks the bedroom door.

“Not funny,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“Aw, come here pretty girl,” he grabs your face and kisses you once again.

You didn’t hold back either. You kissed him back with much intensity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, the same way he grabs you by your waist.

Jay shifted for a second to pull off his top and your eyes went wide by his action. You always knew that Jay’s physique was good, you can see it from his fitted polo shirts and tank tops, but god, seeing it up close just brought heaven to you.

Your eyes wandered to his chest down to his abs which you unconsciously trailed with your fingers. God he’s so fucking hot. Despite the room being dim-lighted, you can still see how good his body was. You couldn’t help but to bite your lips as your touch lingered to his body.

“Eyes up here,” Jay calls out, and as you glance at him once again, he traps you with his kiss.

You two continued to make out, lips never leaving each other as you started to unbutton your blouse. Discarding it somewhere in the room before you placed your arms around Jay once again. As you two found the edge of his bed, Jay pulled you towards him, forcing you to sit on his lap as you two didn’t stop.

Jay trailed his lips down to your neck, making you whimper lightly. He bites down at any bare skin, sucking and licking it that you’re sure he was leaving hickeys on it. You let him be, imagining how scandalous it will be for you to show up in class with your neck full of marks.

You could only moan in pleasure as you let Jay continue abusing your neck. That’s when you focused on your pleasure, finding Jay’s hard on nearby your clothed cunt. You start grinding on it, trying to find friction despite the layers covered.

“You’re eager for me, pretty girl?” he whispered huskily. You didn’t say a word, you continued grinding on him when you felt his hands on your waist.

“Couldn’t even say a word huh?” That's when Jay’s hands shifted on your bra, removing its clasp and exposing your bare chest in front of him.

Jay didn’t waste any time, he grabs you by your waist and places you down on his bed. He traps you in between his legs, hovering over you as he stares at you lovingly.

Something in your mind stroked you. The thought that Jay — Yoomi’s first love — is on top of you, looking at you like you’re his everything. It fueled a fire in you, you feel your pride swelling as you lightly cup his cheeks once again. That’s when it hit you — everything is real.

“You’re nervous?” he asked, holding your hands that were cupping his cheeks.

You shake your head as an answer. You watched as Jay removed your hands and kissed it with much tenderness. Your heart started to beat fast. The room’s temperature started to rise, but you were left there speechless as Jay leaned on to you to kiss you on the lips.

“I’ll take care of you, don't worry,” he whispered as if it’s your first time.

It’s actually your first time after your break-up. You lost trust in romance and intimacy after what happened. And you never thought that you'd go this far. Will it be worth letting yourself bare in front of a man? You pondered whether if it wasn’t getting back to Yoomi, would you still have sex with Jay?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Jay’s touch lingered on your breast. He cups it without any hesitation, playing your nipples as he pinches your left one, making you moan.

“Let out those sounds baby,” he said. “I need to hear you.”

Jay latches on your right nipple, sucking it harshly as you whimper under his touch. He continued to take his time playing with your breast which only leaves you breathless yet wanting more. He took things slowly but you couldn’t avoid the aching feeling between your thighs. You tried to buck your hips upward, trying to find friction on his body.

“Jay —” you called out before a sharp moan escaped your lips. Jay continued sucking your breast with hunger as his hands pinned you down from moving.

“Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” That's when Jay unbuttons your pants, pulling it downward and leaving you in your underwear. You unconsciously close your legs, embarrassed as you feel bare in front of Jay. But you were surprised when Jay pulled you closer to him, hands gripping on your thighs as he pushed your legs wider.

“Don’t be shy now, come on, let me make you feel good.”

Jay said it so gently like he whispered a spell on you, you slowly spread your legs wider. Giving him access to your clothed pussy. Your breath hitches as his fingers feathered around the wet patch of your panties. Pressing his fingers to it, making you whimper.

“You’re already wet for me? We barely even started,” he teased.

“Jay — please,” you pleaded. “Please, let me feel you inside me.”

As much as Jay wanted to, he wanted to savor you first. His fingers snapped through the waistband, glancing at you as if he was asking for your permission. You only nod, feeling dazed already as Jay removes your underwear, eyes locked at your dripping cunt.

You let out a small whimper as you felt his fingers trailing through your pussy lips, gathering your wetness as he gazed at it hungrily. And it didn’t take you a second to process that he swipes his tongue on his fingers.

“Taste fucking good,” Jay cursed. “Can I?”

You mindlessly nod, and with that, Jay dives down to your warm core.

You let out a small mewl as you felt Jay’s tongue swiping through your core. Lapping at its lips like he was starving for it. Jay’s tongue harshly tasted every inch of your pussy that you couldn’t do anything but to writhe under his mouth. His hands gripped on your thighs tightly, holding you from moving as he continued to taste you.

“You’re so sweet for me,” Jay whispered. You could only moan in pleasure as he latches onto your pussy once again, feeling his tongue inside you as his nose brushes lightly against your clit. You couldn’t help but to grab Jay’s hair, grinding against his face as you moan his name.

That’s when you feel it. The coil inside your stomach tightening, a raspy groan escaping your lips as your hold on Jay’s hair tightens.

“J-jay, I’m gonna —” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Too lost in pleasure as Jay’s tongue continued to abuse your insides.

“Gonna cum for me baby?” Jay mumbled, kissing your clit as he swipes his tongue through your core. “Come on, cum.”

That’s when you felt something snapped. Jay devours you as a muted moan leaves your mouth. You can feel the tears rolling down, too lost in pleasure as Jay eats you out to your orgasm.

Your legs were shaking from the aftermath. Eyes drowsy as you felt yourself tired from the feeling. It didn’t register that Jay had crawled over you, kissing you on the lips which you could only whimper back. You can taste yourself as you kiss him back, his hands cupping your cheeks lightly as your lips find each other.

“My girl did so good,” Jay whispered to you, kissing you on your cheeks as he lightly chuckled.

That’s when you felt the courage. Hands trailing on his stomach downwards where his obvious boner was. You lightly palmed his bulge, which earned a groan from Jay.

“My turn,” you told him, and before you could move, Jay stopped you.

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Tonight is all about you.”

“Then, let me ride you Jay,” you proposed instead.

“If that’s what you want baby,” Jay kisses you before pulling you out of the bed.

You two switched positions, Jay settled on his back as he watched you tug his sweatpants, glancing at him before pulling it downwards along with his boxer.

Jay’s cock springs upwards, hard and girthy. Beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. You curse under your breath as you wrap your hands around it, stroking it lightly, making Jay’s breathing uneven.

It was stupid of yours to compare Jay’s dick from Yeonjun’s as you continue to stroke it. Sure, your ex’ dick was big but he was a bigger dick. And the only thing in your mind right now is that you’ll get to feel Jay’s cock inside you — and your bitch of an ex-best friend couldn’t. Yoomi can enjoy Yeonjun’s dick as much as she wants. While you? You’re going to ride Jay’s cock like there’s no tomorrow.

That’s why you hastily placed yourself on top of Jay, your pussy just enough to feather against Jay’s cock. You decided to test the waters, grinding your pussy against his cock, a whimper escaping your lips along with Jay’s harsh moans. You continuously moved your hips in a slow motion, creating a heavy tension between you and Jay.

You can feel his hands finding its way to your waist. You glanced at Jay who only bit his lips — you knew, he was controlling himself. That’s when you grabbed his cock, eyes never leaving Jay who watched you lustfully. You lifted your hips, aligning his cock on your entrance. Slowly, you sink into his dick, a choked moan leaving your lips as you can feel yourself full with his dick barely halfway inside.

As if you needed some help, Jay thrust his hips upwards, making you moan as his cock slid inside you with ease. You hold onto his stomach as you try to support from the sensation.

“So — full,” you choked as you grind against his cock, taking time to adjust to its size.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl,” Jay mumbled, slapping your ass which made you flinch. “Too big for your tight pussy? Can you even take it?”

You only glared at Jay as he lazily smirks at you. That’s when you started to buck your hips. Slowly you rise your hips enough for his tip to remain inside you. You slammed yourself down, making you whimper in pleasure. You continued to ride Jay, bouncing on his cock at a pace that leaves you full as his tip continued to slide your insides, stabbing your cervix that had you choking on your breath.

“You look so beautiful from here,” Jay stated in between his moans. You can feel his hips bucking upwards, finding his own pleasure as you two meet halfway. Jay’s right hand grips on your waist to support you while his left hand trailed upwards to play with your breast, pinching your left nipple that had you arching your back. Head rolling as you fasten your pace.

And as you looked down at him, you saw Jay’s fucked-out expression. The way his hands grip tightly on your waist, his stomach stiffening as he breathy moans escape his lips. You loved the way his brows furrowed in aggression, you can feel his dick twitching inside you as you continued to ride him.

“And you look so gorgeous from up here,” you teased, leaning towards him to plant a kiss on forehead. You lightly chuckled as Jay's expression never faltered, and if it wasn’t enough for you, you shifted to grind on his dick instead, leaving him grunting and gasping for more.

Your hands found its way to his cheeks, lightly cupping it as you placed soft kisses all over his face — except his lips.

“You’re — a fucking m-menace,” Jay said between his groans, making you chuckle.

He’s right. You're a menace. Because as you grind your hips to find more pleasure, all you can think about is how fucked-out Jay was, and it’s because of you. God knows what will happen if Yoomi finds out about this.

And that’s what you wanted to happen. To show to Yoomi that you had Jay under you, writhing and gasping submissively as you continue to abuse his dick. Sex has always been an intimate moment for you, but now, all you can think about is how good your ex-best friend’s first love’s cock is. Have you known that his dick was this good, you would have agreed the first time he asked you out.

You started bouncing once again, making Jay roll his head deep on the pillows. A loud moan leaves his lips which make you smile beneath him. That’s when you started attacking his neck, licking and biting on every spot your tongue latches to.

But it didn’t take long for the pleasure to reach you. You let out a choked moan as you can feel your walls tightening. The feeling of your stomach coiling as your second orgasm is coming, your pace becomes sloppy but you continue to bounce on his dick, trying to chase your orgasm before your stamina fails you.

“Need some help, pretty girl?” Jay asked, now both of his hands are on your waist as he continuously bucked his hips upwards.

But that only fueled your pride, you rested your hands on his chest, pushing him down further the mattress as you rode his cock faster. The room becomes more hot, only your soft moans and bodies slapping onto each other can be heard.

Jay continued to thrust upwards, his hands tightening as he can feel his dick twitching inside you — indicating that he’s near too.

“So c-close, baby —” Jay chokes, eyes shut down but he never stops thrusting inside you.

“M-me too,” you barely said. Your legs are about to give up, but Jay’s thrust had you put his dick in the perfect angle — just right on your spot.

And as he abused your insides, you let out a choked moan, grasping on Jay’s stomach for support.

“Jay —”

“I got you pretty girl,” Jay’s thrust became harsher, faster than before.

Your second orgasm came inside you like a wave. You can feel your legs twitching as Jay fucked you through it. Your pussy tightening around his dick, sucking it so harshly that his thrust became sloppy.

“T-too much —” you whispered, falling on his chest as tears started to fall. Your second orgasm hasn’t come down but Jay continued to thrust his dick inside you.

“Hold it in pretty girl won’t you?” Jay mumbled, kissing you as he continued to thrust inside you.

Jay’s breathing becomes unstable as he continues to pound inside you. You could only hold on his shoulder as you cry through the overstimulation. Everything about you felt more sensitive, especially when Jay’s dick continued to hit your spot.

And with one harsh thrust, Jay came inside you. You let out a moan as you feel his seeds spilling inside you. Jay sloppily thrusts inside, chasing after his orgasm as he paints your walls white.

The room became silent. Only harsh breathing can be heard. That’s when you felt Jay kissing your head as he lightly brushes your hair. His hands never left your waist but instead, he wraps his arms around your waist as he pulls you even more closer — not minding that you two are sticky and sweaty.

You two remained in that position, he’s still inside you and you snuggly let it be. Feeling his warm cock inside you made you feel full and maybe — you’re just too tired to care about anything.

“We should clean up,” Jay was the first to break the silence. You lifted your head and glanced at him amusingly. Jay only smiles as he kisses your lips.

“But I’m comfortable here,” you pouted.

“As much as I am too, we need to clean you up especially that I came inside you,” he explained.

“I’m on a pill Jay, don’t worry,” you mumbled.

“Just stay here pretty girl,” he places you down on the bed, pulling out from you which makes you whimper from the loss.

Jay lightly chuckles as he leaves you alone to go to his bathroom.

As you lay on his bed, you couldn’t help but to think about what just happened. Your eyes never left the ceiling as the silence devoured you.

You suddenly felt dirty, and it’s not because you can Jay’s cum spilling out of you. It disgusted you that you had sex with someone, and while you were comfortable with Jay, it just sank into your mind that you. Just. Had. Sex. — something that you had been avoiding ever since your breakup.

You know that you weren’t ready, some wounds about intimacy still lingers inside you. But you did it, and you did it out of spite and pettiness. Which is far from the sex that you always yearn for.

You pulled yourself up, sitting on the bed as your hands trailed on your naked body. Feeling every inch that Jay saw underneath his dim room. You were shaken by the thought that you didn’t notice that Jay had returned.

Jay turns on the lampshade, but it was enough for him to see the panicked expression of yours. Hurriedly, he approaches you, sinking on the bed as he stares at you.

“You’re crying,” Jay tried to swipe off the tears but you flinched, making him withdraw.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling like an idiot as you aggressively wiped the tears aways. “I didn’t — I don’t know what got in me.”

“Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I’m sorry if I was being too rough —”

“No! No you didn’t,” you assured, grabbing his hands and squeezing it lightly. You let out a deep sigh before giving him a smile. “You were gentle to me Jay. it’s just — It’s just I had a hard time accepting intimacy from others and I was just shocked that we had sex.”

“Is it because of your ex?” he asked softly.

You only nod, “yeah, I just lost trust in romance and intimacy but here I am.”

Jay became quiet for a minute. Heart beating with guilt as he looks at you with a worried expression. You only chuckle lightly as you squeezed his hands again.

“I enjoyed the sex Jay, I was just overwhelmed suddenly,” you assured once again. “If it makes you feel better, because of you, I am slowly starting to trust romance once again.”

“I’m glad that I can make you feel safe again,” Jay said with a genuine tone. He leans to give you a quick kiss on your lips. “Come on now, let me take care of you.”

After cleaning your body and changing into some new clothes, you and Jay snuggled underneath the new sheets he put on. His arms wrapped around your body while you lean against his chest.

You two remained in that position. You can feel nothing but his heart beating at a rapid speed, making you smile a bit. Jay’s hands brushing your hair as if he was lulling you to sleep.

“Y/n,” he called out, you only hummed in response.

“I like you…like genuinely,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to his touch. “I just want to say that because I’m afraid that you think that I took you out on multiple dates just to have sex with you.”

You didn’t say a word, you remained frozen as Jay continued brushing your hair.

“I didn’t even plan this, I just want to cook you dinner,” Jay lightly chuckles. “You don’t have to say anything though. I know that you’re not ready for a serious relationship, but I’m content with what we have.”

And with that, Jay kisses the top of your head.

“Goodnight y/n.”

The room became silent. You had assumed Jay had drifted to sleep while you remained there, eyes wide with heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay’s words had pierced through your heart and it left you confused, wondering where your stand is now.

It was clear that you still have issues about your past. But with how quick you were to open to Jay, you’re now thinking if some of your actions were genuine and not just because you did it out of spite and revenge.

But you weren’t able to draw your conclusion that night. Minutes into your pondering, your eyes became heavy — drifting you to sleep.

Your relationship with Jay has become a newsworthy gossip that students can talk about aside from their studies. So what happens when the two of you attend the Decelis a few days later with hickeys and bite marks all over your necks? It added fuel to the fire of course.

“I thought it’s not obvious, I worked hard to cover it this morning,” you complained.

“It’s a bit visible but what surprised you is Jay, he is wearing it like a badge of honor,” Yunjin shared and you could only let out a sigh.

You should be proud about it. You shouldn’t have covered it with makeup because you wanted to show Yoomi that you had sex with Jay. Jay’s shameless about sleeping with you, and you should be happy because it’ll just irritate Yoomi more, but you only felt nothing but a gut-wrenching feeling about it.

Perhaps Jay’s words still linger in your mind. The next morning, Jay acted like nothing happened, he even cooked you breakfast. Of course, there were subtle changes like the way Jay became more affectionate to you but it just drags you even more.

How long can you stretch this plan of yours? Jay was serious about you, while you…you don’t even know where your stand is. You could only mindlessly brush your hair in front to hide your marks before exiting the girls’ restroom.

As you enter your classroom, you can feel the stabbing glares from your former friends. You ignored the way they gave you a disgusted look as you sat on the last row along with Yunjin.

Yoomi then enters the classroom, her feet stomping heavily like she wanted to have her presence known. You only lowered your head as you opened your Ipad to check any missed readings for today’s course.

You didn’t need to lift your head to know that you’re being talked to by Yoomi, the whispers were loud enough and you could hear the snarky remarks from them. Followed by a few laughter and comments of how ‘shameless’ you are to show up in class with indecent marks on your neck.

It’s as if Yoomi didn’t do that too many times to count. But of course, that’ll never cross their mind.

Soon, the professor entered the classroom and the class fell into silence. You focused your attention on your professor’s lecture, tapping lightly on your apple pen to focus.

All you want to do after is to rest and sleep even though it’s only a Tuesday. You feel your body weary and tired. All the energy from dating Jay had already drained out from you and you’re thinking of maybe ditching him just for a week.

You were walking like a zombie as you exited the building when Yunjin suddenly grabbed your arms harshly.

“What —” you weren’t able to ask when your eye caught the scene.

Yoomi’s talking to Jay. She’s saying something that you knew isn’t pleasant because of the way Jay’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Should you —” Yunjin wasn’t able to finish her sentence when you snapped your arms from her touch and approached the two.

“Jay,” you called out, catching the attention of the two.

“Oh there she is,” Yoomi said with a mocking tone. “I was just telling Jay about the truth.”

You furrowed your forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“That you’re dating him just to get back to me,” Yoomi said with full confidence.

You laughed in disbelief, trying to cover your nervous heart as you watched Yoomi’s face turn confused.

“Why would I even do that? Come on Yoomi, we’re in college, not in high school. Things like that are so immature,” you smoothly said, even shrugging to make yourself more convincing.

“You know I like Jay! What else would you date him huh!?” Yoomi said frustratedly. You didn’t expect her to immediately be frustrated about it.

“To meet new people?” you stated with obvious. “You think I’ll just let myself be depressed after my breakup? We’re just casually seeing each other, nothing more.”

“You think I’m stupid!? Everyone knows that you’re not even ready for a relationship, so why are you suddenly seeing Jay —”

“Just stop please,” Jay rebutted, making you glance at him.

“I know you Yoomi, just stop with the nonsense, okay? I like y/n, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Jay explained.

You can see the way Yoomi’s smile dropped. The way Jay talked to her like she’s a lost puppy being chased away. You wanted to smile, maybe smirked at her just to get back to her but you composed yourself instead.

Jay grabs your hand and the two of you leave the scene. You turned around and eyed Yunjin who only gave you a thumbs up.

While Yoomi? She stood there shocked.

You two reached his car. As you two went inside the vehicle that’s when your heart started to beat nervously. Jay was utterly quiet and his serious expression still hasn’t melted. You gave him a glance before you looked down.

Jay quietly turns on the engine of the car. Not one of you had spoken, and the car had been in utter silence throughout the whole drive. You didn’t notice that you reached your apartment until Jay parked the car in front of it, you remained seated in the passenger seat, waiting for his next move.

“Tell me that it wasn’t true,” Jay spoke, breaking the ice.

“Why didn’t you ask me that earlier?” you asked instead.

“I don’t want to give Yoomi the satisfaction that she won,” Jay clicks his tongue. “I know that you hate her so much and maybe, what she’s saying is true.”

You could only glance at the window. Not now. You always thought that your plan would be foolproof. Everything is so casual that Jay wouldn’t suspect a thing. That the truth won’t come out and you’ll bring it to your grave.

Yoomi really has to ruin everything. And you don’t have the heart to lie to Jay too.

“It's true,” you confessed, sinking deeper into the leather seats.

You can see the way Jay’s jaw slacked. His hands on the wheels tightened. “So when I approached you at the bar —”

“I recognized you, you were Yoomi’s first love, and I don’t know why I let my pettiness decide that maybe, it’s not a bad idea to date you just to shove Yoomi that she can’t have you.”

“So you use me?” Jay pointed out

“Not really,” you mumbled. “Jake told me —”

“Jake knows!?”

“And he told me to not hurt you!” you shouted. “Because you’re Jake’s friend and I don’t want to hurt you! Yes, I always thought that this was a bad idea but I just can’t sit all day seeing Yoomi happy with Yeonjun while I suffer even though they’re the ones who hurt me! That’s why I dated you because you approached me first which is something that Yoomi never experienced!”

You were catching your breath as you shut your eyes down, preventing the tears from falling down. You can feel your hands becoming cold, heart beating in a rapid manner that you don’t know if it’s the nervous breakdown or just you processing your word vomit.

“So none of what we had was true?” you froze for a moment. Opening your eyes to look at Jay who’s staring at you. You became locked in his deep gaze as his question kept replaying in your mind — it was something that you’ve been pondering ever since you had your date with Jay.

Were you mixing your emotions with your intention? Has there been any moment where you’re with Jay that felt real and you didn’t have Yoomi on your mind? As you kept on staring at Jay you only felt nothing but guilt for hurting him.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “I don’t know Jay, we were supposed to be casual.”

“So you never had feelings for me? What happened a few nights ago, it wasn’t real?” Jay asked once again, voice cracking at the end.

“From the start Jay, you knew that I’m not ready for a serious relationship,” you pointed out, tone becoming serious.

“You didn’t answer my question y/n, do you even like me?”

And you didn’t leave your gaze at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate to get an answer from you. You frustratedly brushed your hair, tugging it harshly to keep you sane.

“I’m sorry Jay, I just don’t know what love feels like anymore,” you answered honestly. “How can you think about whether I like you or not, when I hurt you?”

“I didn’t care about that, use me whatever you want, I don’t care anymore,” Jay breathes, his tone becoming more desperate. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

You only shake your head in disagreement. “Jay, you’re just hurting yourself even more. You can’t love someone who’s still broken from her past relationship. See how much Yoomi hurted me? You don’t know how much I was praying for her downfall and when you walked into my life — you were the answer to my prayer.”

“That doesn’t matter, I wanted to help you if it’ll make you happy. Just let me be there for you —”

“Jay,” you gave him a bitter smile. “You deserve a girl that’s full enough to reciprocate your feelings. I can’t give you that.”

“You’re pushing me away?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “The cat’s out of the bag isn’t it? There’s no reason for me to keep on seeing you.”

“Please y/n —”

“I can’t continue doing this especially when you know the truth, it just hurts both of us.”

You didn’t let Jay say another word. You quickly opened the door of his car and ran towards your apartment. You didn’t even bother looking back at his car, you went straight towards the elevator, pressing the 3rd button rapidly.

As soon as you reached your apartment, door shutting down lightly, you removed your shoes and walked sheepishly towards the living room. It didn’t take you to reach the couch for you to break down. Knees weakening as you let the tears fall down.

If everything was just for revenge, then why are you crying? If everything wasn’t real for you, then why does it hurt more than what Yoomi and Yeonjun did to you? You feel so tired and helpless as you sit on the ground, regretting everything that you have done.

Maybe you shouldn't have interfered with karma and let them do their own things. Maybe if you weren’t so impatient, then you would’ve just waited for Yoomi’s downfall. Good things come to those who wait, right? The universe must really hate you so much that it backfired on you immediately.

As those thoughts sinked in your mind, tears continued to fall. You were sobbing so hard that you didn’t hear the door opening.

“Y/n!? We just saw Jay’s car leaving —”

Yunjin and Jake stopped when they saw you on the floor. You turned around to them and both felt deja vu. It’s the same look that you had when you caught Yoomi and Yeonjun.

“I’m sorry Jake,” it was the first thing that you said. “I hurt Jay —”

Jake didn’t say a word. Instead, he walks towards you to pull you to a hug, making you sob harder as you can feel his hands patting your back. And as if it wasn’t enough, Yunjin approached you too and wrapped her arms around your back. Her head leaning against your shoulder as she brushes your hair to calm you down.

The following day, you show up to the class like it was a normal day. Thanking Yunjin’s makeup skills to help you conceal any fragments that show that you cried. The classroom was full already, the back row seat left unoccupied which you and Yunjin sat on.

“He won’t stop?” Yunjin whispered, eyeing your phone screen. There were no notifications, but your wallpaper of you standing in front of the jellyfish aquarium remained. That photo was taken by Jay.

Jay hasn't stopped sending you a message since yesterday. He wanted to talk to you, maybe he was asking for closure or something but you had enough. — and yet, instead of blocking Jay’s number, you put your phone notifications on silent mode.

“He already did,” the last time Jay sent you a message was this morning. Saying he won’t bother you anymore because Jake told him so, but he’ll be waiting for your message.

“You won’t talk to him anymore?” your friend asked.

You only shake your head, “I can’t face him anymore.”

Yunjin didn’t say a word, she simply nodded as she gave you an assuring pat on the back, making you chuckle.

As the day continued, you couldn’t help but dart your eyes on Yoomi in the middle of the class. She's seated on the second row like the good student she was, jotting down notes on her notebook, even interrupting the professor’s lecture at any chance that she could to ask questions or give her insights.

You always knew that her intentions of telling Jay was out of jealousy, but what did she gain from it? Did she want you to suffer more? There were multiple times that it crossed your mind why Yoomi did it to you. And this isn’t just about Jay, it’s also about Yeonjun. What does Yoomi even want from you?

“So I was right? You did use Jay,” and maybe, your questions may be answered when Yoomi approaches you first. Not half of the class had left the room and she’s already cornering you.

“You won’t leave me alone, won’t you?” you snarled, feeling irritated than ever. You didn’t mind that there were audiences that were watching, your old friends near the teacher’s table, waiting for Yoomi, while Yunjin stood beside you.

“Just admit it y/n.”

“Don’t push me Yoomi, you had the fucking audacity to approach and taunt me when you’ve done worst things to me,” you barked at her.

“That’s why it makes sense that you used Jay, to get back to me right!? You knew from the start —”

“Yoomi, I’m telling you this now while I’m being rational, but I don’t give a fuck about you anymore from the moment I saw you at Yeonjun’s dorm, and you should stop giving a shit about me and my life. You have Yeonjun, right? And even if you two are not together, you will never have a chance with Jay.”

“So, that makes you better than me? Because Jay likes you?” she scoffed, but you can hear in her tone that she was hurt.

Your forehead creased, “this isn’t some competition Yoomi, you have everything, Yeonjun, our friends — and maybe wake up for once, the universe doesn’t revolve around you.”

“You don’t understand y/n is that Jay is the only person that I had loved ever since junior high, do you know how much it hurts that no matter what I do, he just doesn’t look at me? And then you came along and suddenly he’s all over you. What did Yeonjun and Jay see in you? I don’t understand.” She vented out.

Never would you think that Yoomi would be insecure about you. You always see yourself as a normal college girl. Decent looks, smart enough to get a decent average, and a bit introverted. There’s not much thrill in your life aside from partying on Friday night on rare occasions. You blend on the walls just like you want to.

Yoomi is different. She’s everything. She’s pretty, always has the cutest aesthetic. Had an impressive track record of grades, and extra-curricular. She’s also an active student in Decelis, her organizations are too many to count, and everyone knows and likes her.

Yoomi has the spotlight, then why on earth is she still after your shadow? Even after stealing everyone from you, it’s still not enough for her.

“That’s not my problem anymore Yoomi,” you told her, tone becoming colder. “It’s not my fault that not everyone find you lovable.”

Yoomi gasped. Her eyes started to water. It shocked her when those words came out of your mouth. She has been used to praises, to people showering her with love. Yoomi thinks that she can still manipulate you, but that’s where her assumptions went wrong. Now, it was a wrong move to confront you — especially when your bottled-up hatred for her can burst out any minute.

“That was harsh y/n,” she mumbled, trying to hold back her tears.

“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” you angrily said. “You want me to admit it? Fine, I did date Jay for fun, and he was such a dream. The dates, his affection – god he was such a gentleman, and the sex? It was so fucking good, and he looks so fucking hot underneath me.”

Yoomi rendered speechless, mouth open as she was shaking due to shock while you only stared at her angrily.

“And even after telling him the truth — everything, he still wants me. He still came back running after me. You think that telling him the truth yesterday will make him look at you? Congrats because he did, but that was because he was annoyed by you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m done with him, maybe this time you can have him, since you like picking up the trash that I threw just like what you did with Yeonjun,” you gave Yoomi a smile. “Just remember this one, Yeonjun settled on you because you’re a naive girl who’ll throw herself at any guy that looks at her. You want to know our differences? I know my worth while you’re pathetic because you crave for any guy’s attention.”

That’s when Yoomi burst into tears, loud and harsh that it made you scoff in disbelief. You only signaled Yunjin to leave, making her grab her bag as you and her watch your old friends circle around Yoomi, comforting her and shooting glares at you. You didn’t bother glancing at them as you and Yunjin walked out of the room.

Did it lift off a weight from your shoulder? No, you felt yourself more slumped than ever, thoughts were running through your mind as you exited the building. You glanced at Yunjin who placed her arms around your shoulder, shaking you lightly as you two began walking towards the university gate.

“She’s such a drama queen,” Yunjin said with an annoyed tone. “But I didn’t expect you to be so harsh.”

“That’s light for me, I could’ve said worse,” you stated. Your attention shifted up to the sky to see that dark clouds had become to cover the blue sky. Your lips turn into a straight line as you think about how the sky is sharing its empathy with you.

The weather in Decelis had become gloomy. The rainy season had started and the cold temperature seemed like a hug that you needed.

Days after the confrontation, class has been suspended due to strong rainstorms. It was a perfect time for you to ponder about your senior year. Stuck inside your apartment flat with both your roommates, you found solace in the loud raindrops drizzling on the street.

You sat on the wooden chair, legs stretched on railings of the balcony. You were listening to some music on your phone with a half-lit stick of cigarette between your fingers. It was a rare case for you to smoke, only during your night outs wherein you need to sober up before going home. But in these moments, you feel like you need to take a few smokes to relieve your stress.

“Hey,” you turned around immediately to hear a masculine voice. Seeing Jake in his hoodie and pajamas, his hair a mess and he’s not wearing his glasses.

“Should I stop?” you asked, raising the stick, but your roommate only shook his head, sitting on the empty chair beside you and also raising his legs on the railings.

“You seem to be lost in thoughts, like a poet stuck in a writer’s block,” Jake teases, making you laugh.

“Wish that’s my problem,” you only let out a sigh before blowing a few puffs.

“Why, still feel guilty about what happened?” he asked, and this time, you shake your head.

“I just wonder if Yoomi ever thought of me as a friend,” you confessed. “Or someone who she competes discreetly.”

Jake didn’t say a word, he only stared at you as if he was waiting for more.

“It’s not hard to wonder about it, after all, we were friends for two years and a half too. So I wonder, during those years, did she ever treat me as her friend?”

“Well, do you regret your friendship with her?” Jake asked you.

“It’s hard to think about it when all I can feel about her is hate,” you admitted. “Maybe my talk with her a few days just gave me a clarification that she was insecure about me, then it struck me if she ever treated me as a friend.”

“Well, friends don’t steal their friend’s boyfriend,” your roommate pointed out, making you glance at him. “That surely answers your question.”

You didn’t say a thing. Jake’s right, that should’ve been the clue. And to think that Yoomi never brought up why you cut her off and all she can point out was that you dated Jay shows that she never valued your friendship — not even once.

You flicked off the butt of the cigarette stick and placed it on the railings. You wanted to smoke another stick but you sat on the chair instead, deeply immersed with the rain.

“You know, Jay is still waiting for you,” Jake opened up.

But he was only met with silence from you.

“You know you can’t avoid everything right?” Jake pointed out. “You’re like this with Yoomi and Yeonjun, and while you had a valid reason to not confront them, Jay’s different, you left him alone in the dark.”

There it is. You hate that Jake was able to pick it up. You know that you became avoidant to people ever since you got betrayed. You kept your circle small, afraid that the more you let people in your life, the more chances they’ll hurt you.

When Yeonjun and Yoomi went behind your back, you didn’t bother asking for any explanation. Completely cutting the two off because you know that it’ll hurt more if you hear their side. And whatever shitty reason they can come up will deem useless.

Jay on the other hand, entered your life because you wanted revenge. But before he could hurt you, you hurt him first — and for you that’s even worse.

“Jake, I hurt Jay, I can’t even look him in the eyes without feeling any guilt,” you explained.

“I talked to him a few days ago and he understands where you are coming from, he’s not mad y/n,” Jake added.

“And is that supposed to make me feel okay?” you whispered. “I don’t know what to feel about everything.”

“It takes time,” your roommate pats your shoulder lightly, giving you a quick smile. “But just so you know, you don’t have to live in hatred forever, who knows, maybe you can learn to love again.”

That’s when you shifted your gaze at Jake, he only gave you a warm smile, making you chuckle bitterly.

“You think so?”

“I just think that you’ve become happier when Jay was around,” Jake pointed out. “Yunjin can see it too, and you might not notice it because you’re too busy with your revenge, but something shifted when Jay entered your life.”

You were stunned, staring at Jake who shifted his gaze back to the pouring rain. Out of the three of you, Jake has always been the most rational one. He was like a brother to you, and while Yunjin was your chaotic other-half, Jake has always been there to watch over you two.

“You think I deserve Jay?” you whispered, bare audible.

“I think you deserve someone who will love you so wholly that he’ll pick up every broken piece of you,” Jake replied. “And I know that Jay is that kind of guy.”

Weeks passed and the passing hurt felt now like a blur to you.

You busied yourself with your subjects, focusing on your academics and papers which was your coping mechanism back then. It was deja vu all over again but rather than letting yourself swallow in guilt, you focused your attention on something else.

Midterm exams are done, and you managed to pass your requirements with ease despite the stress you’ve been through. Now, you feel like a normal student who’s worried about her academics again.

The door of the classroom swung open, your professor entered it with a tense atmosphere following her. No greetings or bright smiles, making the room falter in silence. If it wasn’t enough, she slams her essay papers, loud enough to flinch the whole room.

“I’m so disappointed,” she started. “Twenty-five years of teaching here in Decelis, never would’ve thought that you’ll do this in my course.”

The whole room falls under a few whispers and murmurs. You glanced at Yunjin who merely shrugged.

“You know that plagiarism is a grave offense in our department? We pride ourselves in our students’ intelligence and perspective but here we are — and it’s not only a few paragraphs, but the whole paper. This is so disappointing,” she grabs the paper, a bit crumpled but you can see the huge ‘X’ mark on the paper.

“Ms. Han Yoomi,” she declares, making you flinch. You glanced at Yunjin who’s eyes were about to pop out of its socket. Your friend grabs your friend, calming herself from doing something petty, while your mouth forms a small gap as you cover it with your hand. All you could feel was shock, heart thumping like a rabbit’s eager foot.

“You’re one of our scholars right? Plus, you mentioned that you’re running for honors? This is so disappointing,” your professor shakes her head as she places Yoomi’s paper down.

Yoomi stood up from her seat way too fast that the chair fell down, causing a loud thud that echoed through the room. But Yoomi couldn’t care less. “Ma’am, I can explain —”

“You can explain it to the Dean Ms. Han, you know the consequences of your action,” she cut off. “Please follow me, and the rest of you, please take your midterm papers and consider my comments for your revisions for the final paper.”

The whole room watched as your professor walked out of the door, while Yoomi stood there frozen. It took a little nudge from her friend for her to move, grabbing her bag as she walked out of the room with her head lay low. When both of them left the room, whispers began to swarm around the classroom, just like you, everyone was surprised that Yoomi would do such a thing.

“Holy shit!” Yunjin whisper-shouted. “Holy fucking shit! I didn’t expect her to do that!”

“Fuck, what the actual fuck —” you let out a deep breathe, trying to calm yourself. “I can’t believe it, karma’s fucking real.”

Yunjin only laughs, slapping your arms as you try to conceal your laughter. “No, because that was fucking dumb of her, I can’t believe that she would do that.”

“Right! She always pride herself in writing papers even though her writing fucking sucks, but she plagiarized!? That’s so fucking stupid of her.”

You know that it was mean. Laughing at someone’s mistake that may cause her academic disruption, but after everything that happened to you? Yoomi will never have a chance to get past an offense that she stupidly did.

Karma’s finally after her and you know the result of offense. If no appeal were done, she can get suspended and worst — be removed from receiving honors. All her pride and dreams came crashing down in just a glimpse. And the good thing about it was that it’s all her fault. You didn’t have to raise a finger for it to happen.

You didn’t have to do anything. It slowly sinked in your mind that karma will eventually get back to her. It slumped you that if you had the patience to wait, you didn’t have to involve an innocent person in making your ex-best friend miserable.

You should be happy that karma got Yoomi, but it was only a passing adrenaline of satisfaction that Yoomi’s idiocracy got back at her. If this is what you’ve been praying for, why does the guilt remain on you?

It’s been weeks and yet, he’s still on your mind. You wonder, is he waiting for you? You hate confrontations. You were never good with words and dealing with people, but you couldn’t help to think about Jay and how you left him in the dark. You know what you have to do.

You found yourself in front of his apartment door. Hands shaking and heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay had agreed to talk to you, and that means there’s no turning back now. You pressed the doorbell and after a few rings, the door swung open.

You stood there frozen, seeing Jay in a large t-shirt and sweatpants, hair disheveled like he just woke up. Your words got stuck on your throat, an awkward atmosphere hovering between the two of you.

“I —”

“Come in,” he said with a soft tone which made your heart skip a beat. Your foot moved on its own and entered his apartment, removing your shoes as you Jay waited for you.

“So,” Jay started as soon as you two reached the living room, clearing his throat. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

You only fiddled with your fingers, looking down because you can’t even face Jay. “Yoomi, got suspended today for plagiarising her midterm paper.”

“What?” Jay asked, disbelief.

“She got a two week suspension and got stripped off from her scholarship,” you added. “I should be happy because karma finally got her, but somehow it didn’t feel like I won.”

That’s when you look at Jay, confused yet waiting for you to say another word.

“Because I hurt you Jay. I was so impatient for Yoomi’s downfall that I resorted to using you. I dated you because I was petty because you’re a big part in Yoomi’s life but she can’t have you — but I can.” your hands become shaky, you are harsh with your fingers as you find yourself catching for breath.

“And I’m sorry because you were so genuine about dating me, even when I told you that I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, you understood where I am coming from but all I did was hurt you,” you took a deep breath.

“y/n,” Jay called out but you chose to ignore it. Glancing at him as your eyes started to water.

“And I understand if you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry if I ran away — I always ran away from everything, even from Yeonjun and Yoomi, I didn’t bother asking for their explanation but you…you deserve it Jay.”

That’s when Jay approached you, pulling you to a hug that only made you cry. You punched his chest, trying to push him away but he only tightened his hold on you.

“You should be angry but why aren’t you? Why!?” You managed to stitch some words, and instead of answering you, Jay brokes out from the hug, caressing your cheeks as he looked at you fondly.

“I’ve known you for so long,” Jay confessed. “You’re always been with Yoomi. I know Yoomi, we’re from the same town but…she’s just not my type.”

You only stared at Jay, eyes widened.

“You know me?” you asked, shocked.

Jay only laughs, “face? Yeah I know you, but name and other things? Not really. But it’s not hard to remember the girl who looks like she doesn't want to be there whenever she attends our gig.”

The comment made you stifle a laugh, making Jay smile. “I found you cute and pretty, and although it hurts that you’re always on your phone during our gig, I still find myself looking at you. You completely contrast’s Yoomi’s loud cheer, that’s why I was drawn to you.”

“I wonder, “when will she be able to look at us?” then I discovered that you had a boyfriend, and not gonna lie it crushed my heart.” Jay jokingly said. “Then you stopped showing up to our gigs, and Yoomi was with another friend. I thought, maybe you were spending your time with your boyfriend, and maybe I should stop this silly crush of mine.”

You became quiet. Thoughts became afloat. It all makes sense now. From the start, Yoomi never really had the chance with Jay. All the times she told you that Jay kept on glancing at her was just her assumption — Jay has been looking at you all along.

His words, you recall the way Jay told you that he doesn’t want to lose you again. You thought that your first meeting was at the bar but no, he has been looking for you for years now.

“So, when you approached me at the bar —”

“It was like fate telling me that, “there she is, this is your chance!” And I didn’t want to waste it.”

“But I hurt you Jay,” you pointed out.

But Jay merely shrugs. “No, from the start, you made it clear to me that you didn’t want a serious relationship, I respected that and I was happy with what we had. I was happy just being on your side.”

Tears started to fall from your eyes again, you couldn’t help but to cry making Jay pull you to his arms again, wrapping you gently as he pats your head.

It couldn’t sink in your mind that aside from your roommates, there is someone who is willing to be by your side despite all you’ve been through. You always thought that you’re undeserving of finding other people to love you, but it just went to your mind that meeting Jay wasn’t a way for you to get back to your ex-best friend — it was a way for you to find another person who will love you again.

“I hate you, you were supposed to hate me for what I did,” you said between your cries.

“How can I? Your reason is valid though, and if you told me from the start, I would’ve done worse, maybe kiss you in front of Yoomi just to spite her.” Jay joked, which led you to jabbing his chest, he lightly scowled as you glared at him.

“I’m serious,” you told him.

“And I’m also serious,” Jay lightly cups your cheeks, swiping any teardrop from your eyes. “And I’m not saying this because I like you, but because it’s just some petty revenge right? It’s not like you’re planning their murder.”

“I could if murder was legal,” you spat. “Would you still join me?”

And instead of saying anything, Jay kisses the tip of your nose, “anything for my pretty girl.”

“I couldn’t believe you,” you mumbled. “After everything, you’re still here for me.”

“How can I? I’ll be with you at any chance fate will give me.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re spiritual enough to believe in fate?”

“You taught me how to.”

Silence swallowed you two. You only stared at Jay who’s gazing at you fondly. Then he smiles, grazing your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you.” Jay confessed.

Your eyes widen by his words, staring at him speechless as he never left his gaze at you.

“I love you so much that it didn’t hurt me that you used me, it hurt me that you had to resort to that plan because you were hurting so much.” Jay explained. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll show to you that you can still be loved, and I don’t care if you’re still broken by your past, I’ll help you gain your trust to love again.”

You only let out a sigh, glancing at Jay who’s eagerly waiting for your answer. That’s when you lean against his cheeks, smiling as you start, “thank you Jay, for showing me that I can still be loved.”

“Maybe meeting you wasn’t a way for karma to tell me to get back to Yoomi, but it was fate’s way to tell me that I can still learn to love someone. And while I was stupid to be focused too much on my anger, I forgot that I should’ve used my energy reciprocating your feelings to me.”

“And we can take it slow, I’m in no rush —”

“No Jay, I was just too stupid to realise that I’d fallen for you, that there were moments that felt genuine for me, and I want us to be more real, without thinking about Yoomi or getting back to her.”

You saw how Jay slowly sank-in what you just said, eyes widening as his hold to your face tightens.

“Are you serious?” he breathes.

You only nod as a response, letting out a soft laughter as Jay’s expression brightens more. He could only let out a raspy gasp, words stuck on his throat as he pulled you closer for a hug.

“I can’t believe — fuck, I'm just happy – god, I can’t believe this,” he said, choking in his own words.

“I’m sorry if it took me long.”

“You’re worth the wait,” Jay whispered. ,

Breaking from the hug, Jay found himself staring at you. You only let out a small chuckle as you found yourself staring at Jay’s eyes. He lightly brushes your hair before planting a kiss on top of your head, then sealing your lips with lips — an action that tugs your heart with ease. You could only kiss him back, finding yourself smiling between it.

Because the first time ever since you got your heart broken, you found yourself genuinely happy.

Epilogue.

“Congratulations to us!” Yunjin hugs you tightly, making you chuckle as you hold onto your graduation cap tightly.

Senior year passed by with ease. You found yourself juggling your thesis papers and internships along with course subjects. There were gray days and you lost count of the breakdowns that you had throughout the year, but here you are, officially graduating with honors.

“Congrats love,” Jay said, handing you a bouquet of lilies which made you smile.

“Thank you love,” you said before planting a kiss on him.

Your relationship with Jay was a second chance for you. Although you two still kept it unlabeled in the first few months because there were parts of you that were still struggling to open up to him, Jay was ever patient with you.

But now, you two became official, and you look forward to what waits for you two outside college.

“Congrats to you two, I know you two can make it,” Jake said, handing you two bouquets of flowers which made Yunjin fake cry.

“I can’t believe that we’re no longer roommates! I’ll miss annoying you two,” Yunjin said between her fake sobs, slinging her arms to you and Jake and pulling you two for a hug.

“You’re so dramatic,” you said, but your smile widened as you hugged Yunjin back, which Jake did the same.

“But before that, I have something to spill!” Yunjin excitedly said, breaking out from the hug.

“Do you guys know why Yoomi isn’t here?” she asked, and you only shrugged.

Now that you think of it, throughout your senior year, Yoomi still managed to get through her academics but there is wariness around her now because of her case. She didn’t bother you anymore either. Senior year became a peaceful year for you.

“Just tell us already,” Jake impatiently said, making Yunjin let out an evil chuckle, which meant that her story is diabolical.

“Apparently, she wasn’t able to graduate because the academic coordinators had learned that she slept with our Dean.”

“What the fuck —”

“Are you serious!?” you shouted, “no fucking way, where did you learn that?”

“Her ‘friends’ of course,” Yunjin smirked. “Apparently, that’s the reason why she was able to maintain her scholarship. They only investigated it during graduation season and had confirmed it a few days ago.”

“So, she wasn’t able to graduate?” Jake asked.

“And she’s expelled from Decelis, she can’t continue her studies here,” Yunjin added.

“Now that’s much worse,” Jay added, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“And she fucking deserve it,” you mumble. “She finally got her karma.”

“Guess the universe has answered your prayers.”

You only stared at Jay, a soft smile curving on his lips, which made you smile wider. “I guess they did.”

Everything now felt light. The thorn in your heart was gone. You finally graduated with honors, your roommates are there for you, and your ex-best friend got what she deserves.

“Hey,” you called out Jay, shifting his attention to you. His right arm instinctively wraps around your waist.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, and you only shook your head.

“I love you,” you said.

Jay scoffs in disbelief, but the smile on his lips becomes wide as he leans into you for a kiss. “I love you too.”

Of course, you had Jay by your side. You may have been praying for karma but it was fate who heard your prayers. Despite the mishaps you’ve faced, you were still thankful because you still found someone who will love you wholly.

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luna-azzurra · 2 months ago

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What to Give a Sh*t About While Brainstorming Your Book

(A.K.A. Before You Even Touch That Shiny Blank Page)

↳ What You’re Actually Obsessed With Stop trying to write what’s trendy. What do you spiral about at 2 a.m.? What ideas make you grin like a gremlin and mutter, “Ohhh, that’s juicy”? That’s your story. Chase that weird, niche, can’t-let-it-go stuff. Your obsession will be the fuel that drags you through chapter 27 when everything sucks and you kind of want to fake your own death.

↳ Your Story’s “Why the Hell Should Anyone Care?” Not in a mean way. But genuinely—why should a stranger give up sleep to read this? What itch does it scratch? What feeling does it deliver? Figure that out early and let it guide you like a tiny emotional compass. If you can’t answer it yet, cool. But keep poking at it until you can.

↳ A Character With Big, Messy Feelings Don’t start with a plot. Start with a person. A disaster with a wound and a want. Someone who wants something so badly it makes them do unwise things. Get to know them like a nosy therapist. Let them tell you what kind of story they want to be in.

↳ Conflict That Isn’t Just Vibes Mood boards are fun. But conflict is what makes a story move. Make sure you’ve got some stakes, emotional, relational, existential, literal. If your idea doesn’t have anything to push against, it’s not a story yet. It’s an inspiration board.

↳ A Rough Emotional Shape Not an outline. Not yet. Just… the feeling. Where does it start (lonely)? Where does it go (rage)? Where does it end (hopeful)? Think of your book like a rollercoaster. You need the high points, low points, and those slow creaky climbs that make people scream. If it’s all flat? Snoozefest.

↳ The One Vibe You Want to Nail Every great book has a thing. An atmosphere. A flavor. Your job during brainstorming is to catch the scent of it. Is it spooky and tender? Funny and tragic? Cozy but secretly brutal? Whatever it is, write it down. Tattoo it on your brain. Let it infect every scene.

↳ Something You’re Scared to Write About You don’t have to go here. But if something in your gut says, “Oh god, I could never write about that”… maybe poke it. Maybe there’s gold in there. Maybe the story wants to heal something. You don’t have to bleed for your art—but if it makes you uncomfortable in a thrilling way? That’s your fire.

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witchywcmans · 1 year ago

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PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious.

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly.

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.”

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced.

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor. “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment. Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface.

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface.

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit.

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake.

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?”

#my fics #fic: please eat #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: please eat

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wheneverfeasible · 11 months ago

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~Wiggly 🧠 🪱 Wednesday~

Eeee thank you for the tag @hotluncheddie, this is my first brain worm tag and that’s super exciting, buuuttttttt…

So I actually just realized that I’ve recently hit the anniversary time of when I went No Contact with my family, and I know that that I’ve began kinning Steve more since then due to his own terrible family.

So then I was thinking about Steve, who it’s been years since he walked away from his family, since he found his true family, and he’s doing okay for himself. Maybe not an amazing career or anything, but he’s found something that he’s relatively happy with and he’s got people who love him in his corner and yeah, sometimes it still hurts, but he’s moved past it all.

Until one day, completely unexpectedly, his mom comes into his place of business.

Maybe they threw him out, maybe he left of his own choice because he realized that they would never be what he wanted or needed them to be. They never truly knew him and never cared about him, at least not enough to ever choose him over anything else, so it hurt but ultimately it wasn’t hard to leave them, only hard to leave the life he used to know.

He and Robin were roommates now, because obviously, and it was a shitty little place, but it was theirs, and they’re happy, and their friends are over all the time to the point that Eddie practically lives there too, which is…nice.

Really nice.

Steve has come to accept the fact that he isn’t entirely straight, and part of that is the reason he no longer speaks to his family, and he’s even come to terms with the fact that he might have a teensy tiny itty bitty little crush on his best friend, Eddie Munson. Which is fine. He’s used to having crushes on friends and having them be unreciprocated.

Except Eddie has been sending him some signals that maybe it’s not entirely unreciprocated. And he’s starting to feel confident, starting to feel like maybe he could actually be genuinely happy with someone…

And that’s when he sees his mom. It’s been years since he last saw her, but suddenly all that pain and hurt he thought he had grown past is tearing through his chest and up his throat and he feels his heart rate accelerating and his breathing is growing choppy and he can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe—

He’s thought about, before, what he would tell his parents if he ever saw them again. About how he would call them out for being terrible people who never cared about him, only saw what he could offer them, about the image they wanted to show the world. Wanted to tell them of all the times he’s almost died and they never knew because they never cared enough to ask why he’d come home bruised and bloodied, or why he avoided the pool, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares. He thought about how good it would feel to say how he never needed them.

But he can’t say any of that now. All he can do is try not to pass out from hyperventilating because they were his family, his parents, and they should have loved him unconditionally but they never did. They never chose him over their friends, their jobs, their image. They never loved him and never would. They would never truly know him or accept him and all he wanted was for them to say that they were sorry and they never would.

Steve would like to think he could face his mother, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t he just couldn’t. So he hides, he runs, he disappears into the back and he can’t stop the tears because why was he never good enough for her or his dad? What was so wrong with him that they couldn’t love their own son?

And there’s no sort of resolution for him, no closure.

He finishes his shift, he goes home, and Robin and Eddie are there just like they were when he left that morning, and their immediate smiles at him being home slowly drops because even though he tries to hide it, they know.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, can’t talk about it, not yet. He does tell them that he saw his mom that day and he loves them because they get it, they understand, and they don’t make him talk about it. Robin makes him his favorite snack and drink, Eddie finds that movie he knows is Steve’s comfort movie and puts it on, and they don’t talk about it but they’re there.

And, curled against Eddie’s side with silent tears dripping off his nose and onto Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s arm around him while Robin keeps him grounded with a hand caressing his leg on his other side, they let him mourn not what he lost, because he never had it to begin with, but what could have been.

And maybe, maybe one day Steve will be brave and tell Eddie what he means to him, but he’s too fragile at the moment. It will remain unspoken for now because he’s not ready. But maybe one day. And maybe that day is sooner, maybe that day is later, but there in his friends’ unconditional love, he knows that they’ll both wait for him to be ready.

Because his parents should have been his family but they’re not. They never were. And maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but one day he would be able to let them go because he knew that what he had with him right now was his real family, and that love was forever.

Yeah anyways the song Matilda by Harry Styles hits a little too close to home for me, and I think it’s fitting for Steve too.

no obligation tags since Wednesday is over but there’s always next week lololol: @derythcorvinus @stervrucht @katyawriteswhump

#wiggly wednesday #brain worm wednesday #brain worms #angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve’s parents #inspired by real life and personal trauma #also inspired by #matilda harry styles #robin buckley #eddie munson #pre steddie #stranger things #plot thots #tag you’re it

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bernardsbendystraws · 4 months ago

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𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha.

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason.

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn.

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me.

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed.

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say.

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road.

Typical.

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute.

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck.

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby.

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea.

How much would it cost him if I stayed around?

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous.

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing.

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air.

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side.

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod.

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming.

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.”

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home.

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates.

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars.

He’s so cocky.

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye.

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car.

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?”

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm.

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”

Fuck.

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe.

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression.

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks.

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide.

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away.

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me.

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides.

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?”

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth.

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink.

Uh oh.

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is.

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris.

It had to be at least two grand.

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers.

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket.

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time.

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air.

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill.

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him.

And it makes it so hard to look away.

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces.

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.”

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks.

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me.

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck.

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points.

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me.

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek.

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.”

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more.

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side.

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference.

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser.

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—”

“Hey!”

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me.

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off.

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer.

The fuck?

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement.

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder.

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even.

“Kiss me.”

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips.

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known.

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder.

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut.

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that.

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him.

“1—GO!”

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed.

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth.

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine.

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough.

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck.

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him.

Why did that feel so… good?

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line.

Had we really been kissing that long?

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more.

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?”

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down.

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing.

“C’MON!!!”

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back.

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease.

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation.

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over.

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges.

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in.

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard.

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road.

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh.

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact.

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach.

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones.

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.”

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me.

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me.

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance.

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back.

“Over here. Now.”

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console.

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—”

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer.

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine.

“Why?”

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse.

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him.

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?”

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra.

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes.

Fuck. I can’t take this.

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin.

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.”

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me.

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins.

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded.

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.”

Oh my god.

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves.

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch.

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me.

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still.

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water.

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge.

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.”

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself.

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck.

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him.

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear.

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt.

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again.

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length.

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—”

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him.

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken.

“I–it’s, I—”

What the fuck was I saying?

Everything feels so light, so impossible.

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan.

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips.

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations.

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?”

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement.

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria.

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions.

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me.

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants.

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit.

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum.

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea.

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more.

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap.

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks.

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out.

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear.

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?”

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.”

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts.

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…”

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?”

1K notes · View notes

axetivev · 28 days ago

Text

— Summary: After your performance and fan meetup, a guy asked you out on a date. Though, your manager wanted to refuse. You, being a solo musician with nothing much better to do decided to accept his date. You thought he might be a random fan that paid a lot to go on a date with you. Little did you know, he was a popular idol!

— Warnings/Tags: Smut + Fluff, Oral sex (oc!receiving), Ridding, Ass slapping, Porn with Plot, Photography, Obsessive Oc, Taking Pictures without Consent, Hair pulling, Overstimulation.

— Words: 4.8k (God...)

— A/N: okay... ill do three ocs for now. i actually had many ideas for creating another oc. but this is enough for now. at least, since i had my own desires to write other characters. that's all really. also... there's parts of this fic that's inspired by @sooniebby. (hope you don't mind, heh) as my usual. I hope you enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Oc!Sato Hiroshi x Male!Reader

The sound of music echoed through the empty studio, you stood there alone, companied by a violin over your shoulder as your dominant hand gliding the bow to the strings—your other hand, your fingers moved gently as you played Canon in D. You closed your eyes—letting the music consumed you for a moment, until you stopped.

“[Name],” a voice of a woman entered the room. Her tag in her suit was clear as day—Yamada Haruka. Your manager. “The agency is going to do held a huge performance next month! Are you in?”

Haruka was the woman who was like an actual mother to you. Unlike your actual mother—you first met her after a few weeks you dropped out medic school for wanting to be a violist, your mother never supported that idea in the slightest. Not to mention that she barely even supported you other then being a doctor. Kicking you out and cutting all contact.

You found yourself playing with the same violin you loved since high school—the last thing from your father remains. Even though life was rough, you played music endlessly with an open heart. Money slowly coming and after five months of you solo and having some experience, you found Haruka in a cemetery looking down at a grave—two of them. Actually, you stop mid track. Your heart wanted to approach her, but your mind said something so absurd like it was came from a cartoon; “What if she was a ghost? Capturing it’s pray by acting someone grieving?”

But you ignored that thought, even it felt weird to comfort a stranger. You stood beside her, placing your hand over your shoulder as you read both names that are carved on those stones.

Yamada Sakura — Yamada Fuuji

You look down at the woman who’s still kneeling down as she wiped her tears. Her business suit was messy, she pulled out a handkerchief as she tried to wipe her tears, her make up was messed up her tears. You didn’t want to ask—well, you just wanted to comfort her. But it ended up snowballing into her asking you to join the music company she was in—“you had potential!” was all she said. That alone, you never obtained from your mother.

Back to the present day. You sat across Haruka, she pulled out her phone, showing it to you. The poster of your agency from Instagram—that you and a popular female idol group had a show in Tokyo—with some other idol groups that had a possibility of preforming. That group had a big name. Like, 30 million worth big—your eyes slowly flickered over that group, Twilight, from the agency Hymnn.

Even though Hymnn is a big agency, most of their assets come from their male idol group—Twilight, which was filled by five members. But you sometimes questioned yourself, how could they get such good looking men? You remembered that time, somehow. Haruka allowed you to go out with your old friends, which was spend to watch Twilight’s performance. The screams of their fans was enough to make you go deaf, if not thanks for you forgetting to pulled out your earbuds.

“Again…?” You pouted, you look at Haruka with your classic puppy eyes—which Haruka replied with a pinch on your cheek. “Ha—ru—kaaaa!!”

“Kiddo, you’ve skipped your show for three times in a row. Everyone is practically coping over your posts with grave yards!” Haruka slightly pulled your cheek before releasing your skin, making you whine as you straighten up.

You suddenly remembered the last time your preformed was eight months ago, your agency’s both Instagram and Twitter accounts that had your last performance was filled by your fans spamming grave yard emojis and dead roses. You didn’t expect your fans could be so desperate for your comeback, it’s laughable but also sad at the same time.

Haruka leaned back against the navy couch, her right hand moved to take the glass of water over the table. The silence stretched for a moment, you just stared at your manager’s phone in your hand. Mindlessly scrolling to the pages of your agency, when you stopped at the last post of yours, your eyes slowly read on who liked your post.

Liked by TwiHiroshii.

“TwiHiroshii…?” You muttered under your breath. You gave Haruka’s phone back, back to the original topic of you preforming. You nodded your head. “Okay then, guess I’ll perform on the show.”

Haruka’s face slightly lighted up as she straighten up. “Well then! I’ll informed you about everything about the event later on, I’m going in a meeting. Food is in the counter, don’t forget to practice. See ya kiddo!”

Haruka practically ran out of the studio, you sighed while shaking your head amusingly. Even though she was in her mid 40s, she’s sometimes like a teen like you do even at your 20s. Well, since Haruka isn’t here. Procrastinating sounds like a great idea…

You opened your Instagram, you barely opened your socials. Which sounds unrealistic but hey, at least you had a life. You checked your notifications, your eyes slightly widened when that same account liked all of your posts. You stood up from the couch and moved you way to the counter as you scrolled on your fyp, there’s already a plate of curry that’s still hot. You took a chair and sit down.

You clicked on the TwiHiroshii account, you aren’t really surprised that it was Sato Hiroshi, the member of Twilight. But why does he liked your posts? You thought it might be a mistake, but what mistake that made him liked all of your posts?

Some fans of Twilight reached out to your account. And you finally checked your followers, you titled your head. Since when your followers was 940k? The last time you checked or even remembered, you only had 500k-ish. You slowly looked through your posts, your most popular post was of you in the stage of your last performance. Holding your violin—your face was stoic, unlike the actual you behind the face of many. You looked at the comments, which was somewhat concerning.

_Shar. 3w

HIROSHI LIKED [NAME]’S POSTS!?

acheron’swife 2w

i’m going to make a fic out of them…

ㅤㅤ@ acheron’swife 1w

DID IT!!!!! HERE’S MY AO3 !! *****

Hiroshifann!! 1w

Hiroshi love men ! ? I mean…. If it’s [Name]… They matched hello!?

HiroLennisthebest!1! 2d

Hiroshi x [Name] suck… but cool ig

—Starlight!— 2w

CARNIVALVIOLIN IS DEFINITELY THEIR SHIPNAME!1!1! 🎡🎻

[Name]’sbutth0l3 5d

Hiroshi tops. I saw everything.

Your spoon fall into the plate, just in time as the door opened wide—you jolted to see Haruka crossing her arms to her chest as she leaned to the door frame, there’s one thing in her face; she doesn’t looked amused at all. Your face turned red—fast.

“SORRY—!”

When the day of your performance. You were behind stage, your performance was placed last. You heard from people were screaming and singing the lyrics of the female idol group who preformed before you. Their fans’ screams was loud. Full of energy.

“Violin tuned?” Haruka came up from the blinds, her face was weary. You nodded to her question, a weary smile formed between her lips. “Get ready, your time to shine…”

You nodded your head, as Haruka gave you a thumbs up, the female idols already off the stage. You slowly emerged, your eyes slightly widened seeing the many people sitting there screaming your name. their eyes were practically beaming at your figure—holding a violin on your left hand and the bow at the right. You bow down in front of your fans as you get into position.

You poured your heart to your violin; specially with the song your original song. Your fingers gliding beautifully to the strings like when you were in the studio. You closed your eyes and held your breath—the bow was dancing with the strings. The slow rhyme was calming—until you paused your bow, doing the killer move. You exhale, your hand instinctually moved where your bow met with the A and E strings—even with the AC of the stage was at it’s lowest, you still feel yourself sweating. You can’t mess this up. You can do it, [Name]!

As you ended up your song by holding the bow that still pressed with the strings. You felt your fingers and hands sweaty as you opened your eyes, your eyes met with the crowd. They all shout.

It's not like her shouting… it’s genuinely people shouting and screaming at your name like gold. Cheering at your name.

You bow down, giving everyone a smile that could probably blinded people. Your eyes still scanned around the crowd. Your fans were in a mixed of man and woman, but your eyes landed on someone.

You aren’t sure, but you suspected it was a guy. He swears a black hat from NY Yankees, he wears a black mask. But you saw his hair was ash blonde—maybe it was dyed, covering his identity, and he was holding a paper banner.

“ 好き, [Name] !!! ”

— SaHi

A moment you stared at that specific figure. Who’s even SaHi? But thanks to Haruka’s voice coming from your earbuds, you suddenly snapped and rushed to the back stage. Meeting Haruka and a black haired man talking to each other.

“I’m sorry, I got a little distracted. Yamada-san.” You bowed—trying to act like a professional. “Is there something in the matter?”

Haruka slowly moved your attention to you, she smiled as she shook her head. “It’s nothing! However, I forgot to mention that you’ll had a fan meet-up!”

You honestly wanted to whine, but seeing Haruka’s face? You can’t let down your mom—manager! You put down your violin to the closes table as you rolled your shoulders, damn. Sure playing one of the hardest instruments is sure painful. You put on your smile, Haruka seemed hesitant for a moment. But you nodded your head, you still see it however. Her worried expression.

“Alright then!” Haruka declared, clasping her hands to each other. “[Name], the idol group is still having their meet-up. I suppose you can wait here.” She said, as she gave you a bottle of water.

“Will it took a while?” You asked, talking the water from Haruka as you drank. She shook her head. “Maybe 15 more minutes. Are you… okay with it?”

Ah, maybe that’s why. She’s just worried that you actually don’t want to… but you don’t want to see her sad! You nodded your head. Giving her a thumbs up.

Seems like she was relieved…

Fan meet-ups. You usually don’t like socializing, but fan meet-ups is actually fun…

You just sit there, comfortably with fans coming to you and praising you—some, even. Give you gifts! Who doesn’t love free goodies? Not to mentioned the artists that drew you, their arts are always good no matter what.

And seemed like your fan meet-up this time never changed. Well, many more because of your fans increasing. Some of your fans gave you snacks, candies, chips you name it. Hats? Everything! Even somehow free clothing. The line was kinda long until you met the same guy before. He doesn’t change in any way too. But the audacity that he didn’t bring you gifts… such an insult!

“You—uh… [L.Name]-san?” He spoke, his voice was rather deep. Sounded a bit… familiar. But, where?

You looked behind him—no one was there. You looked around and found most of your fans were already gone, you were slightly confused by how fast they were gone. But what can you do about it? It’s their choice. You then bring back your attention to him—a smile formed kn your lips.

But before you could say something—he cuts you off. “Let’s go on a date.”

Well that was sudden.

Haruka, who was suddenly behind you glared at the guy, her left arm was covering you. As if she protected you from a beast. “Sorry, young man. But I should apologize that [Name]’s schedule is—”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go then!” Haruka’s head immediately turned to you. You can see her visibility get angry at you, you smirked, pulling your puppy eyes. “Haruka!! Please…?”

“I won’t procrastinate during training for a week I swear!”

“Two months.” Haruka said sharply.

“But—”

“Two months.”

“I—fine…. two months….” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw Haruka and that hat guy having a conversation, you’re honestly too tired to care. You took a KitKat bar from a female fan earlier menacingly bite the middle part.

You took your phone that was beside the cat plushie your fan gave, you sighed as you opened Twitter. Scrolling for a moment, a post—a very recent one opened. The post is from the Twilight account, basically stating that their comeback will be delayed because of “personal” reasons. You tapped on the Twilight’s Twitter, the first thing you saw was their banner concluding their five members.

Kaguya Mizukii, Sato Hiroshi, Yamato Lenn, Furukawa Tenma, Furukawa Junn. You believe, is from the oldest to youngest member.

Mizukii was the oldest—well, from his appearance. He looked like he was 26, and the leader of Twilight. Sato Hiroshi, well you suspected to be two years older then you, he was known to be the most popular member, but was known to be somewhat rebellious. Lenn was known to be the quiet one in the group, with the title joke; “the quiet kid”. From his appearance? Maybe… a year younger then you.

Furukawa Tenma and Junn were siblings, the seconds most popular. They weren’t twins, and fans sometimes fight over who shall take the second most favorite, which. Took crown by two of them.

While you were distracted on your own world, just staring at Sato Hiroshi. You heard a loud slam—stacks of Yen was in front of your eyes, you don’t know exactly how much. But you knew it was stacks of ¥10,000, your eyes beamed, but then you heard Haruka cursed under her breath. “…Deal.”

“Great!” That hat guy smiled under his mask, his hand grabbed your wrist as you shamelessly took the money. He practically dashed out from the fan meetup, you still had money in hand and wearing your dress suit.

How much money does this guy pay to go on a date with you?

You theorized it’s actually more, perhaps. Before those stacks of ¥10,000, he already payed Haruka before but she still refused. But he still insisted of trying. Well, you don’t know much about the outside of music… music and music.

Sitting on a random guy’s car sure is something… sure—he rides a Honda. Nothing very expensive or whatever, maybe he doesn’t want to flex his money. Sitting on the left, your eyes scanning around the front. Looks… too clean.

“No offense but…” As that guy stared the car, you awkwardly rubbed your nape. “What’s your name?”

The guy stared at you for moment—before he let out a laugh, hitting his knees. You didn’t seemed to be amused, just stared at him… dumbly.

“Call me Hi…Kazuki!” Kazuki smirked under his mask, starts his car, and moved at the speed of light—atleast, I thought he drove his car in the speed of light.

First date, on a carnival….

It’s not bad or anything, but going to a carnival isn’t really in your list to go on dates. But seems like Kazuki liked carnivals, you can’t lie, honestly. You felt excited yourself since you never really been to events. Twilight’s concert was honestly your first.

The sun already turned to the beautiful moon—the colorful lights lighting the grass. And many people running around and some going on dates, your eyes scanned around you. You swore your younger self would be jumping to go on somewhere like this, even though. You sometime hated the outside world. Kazuki then came out from the car—still using his clothes from your concert earlier.

“Eh? First time?” Kazuki grinned as he slipped his arm over your waist. You slowly nodded to his question as you then mentality thanked yourself that thought you’re popular, you’re not extremely. “Something caught your eye, babe?”

You’re face slowly reddened—but you fake a cough as you slowly looked around, the games here looked so modern… “How about that one?” You pointed at a game, with ducks in a something like bowl.

When the two of you were near the game—there’s the huge sign on top of the stripped red and white. “DUCK POND!”. Kazuki looked at the owner, a quick talk and you were then given a stick with a hooked end, Kazuki slowly pushed you forward. “Do I need to explain this to you?”

“…I can do it myself.” You pouted at his words, with trembling hands. You barely even took a single duck. Even some people around you looked at you with a lot of questions in their minds.

You were inexperienced for this! You pulled out your tongue, trying to focus. Which was broke when a flash from a phone flickered, you turned your head. Kazuki looked at you, he pulled out his index and thumb like a gun and pointed at you. Where was the light came from…

“I give up.” You sighed defeated, giving the stick to Kazuki.

Kazuki smirked, rubbing his covered nose with his mask. “Watch, and learn. Pretty boy.”

You mostly tried to ignore his last words. But he lean to your ears. Whispering in a low tone that was enough to make you shiver; “Don’t blink.”

Thankfully, you didn’t. But your jaw nearly dropped seeing… 7 ducks at once in the hook. Kazuki looked at it—rolling his eyes, muttering about only getting 7 ducks. The owner’s face isn’t far behind like yours—is this actually humanly possible? But the both of you can’t really answer.

“Here ya go, old man!” Kazuki gave the stick at the owner. He gulped nervously as he nodded, he immediately gave you a teddy bear—not too big nor small. You haven’t get anytime to say thank you—but Kazuki already dragged out away to the next stop.

After many games later. You sat tiredly on the bench near by where Kazuki played an game of shooting, you looked at the ash blonde guy—he doesn’t look tired at all!? He sat next to you, dango in hand and other prices from his winnings. You were about to take it with your hand, but he was insisted that he feed you. So you just allowed him.

The dango was sweet—but not overpowering. Like a typical dango, Kazuki looked at you, you slightly took a peek over his eyes—raven. Kazuki titled his head, he played a smile under his mask.

“Is there something wrong with my… face?” He pointed a finger out at himself. You shook your head. “Nothing…”

“I just… noticed you have raven eyes.” You look at his eyes, you swore you saw his cheeks flushed. But you smiled sweetly—at least, that’s what Kazuki sees. “It looks good on you.”

Kazuki slightly shifted from his seat. His hands trembled, you don’t know what he was going to do. Does people flustered like this or is it just Kazuki? You tried to reached your hand at him, but he froze on spot.

The wind blew behind you, it was harsh. Perhaps, there would be rain sooner or later. The wind blowing your hair and Kazuki’s hat, his hair is indeed ash blonde… but somehow, his mask also from the second harsh wind that blew from Kazuki’s back—wait.

Sato Hiroshi—!?

“IS THAT SATO HIROSHI FROM TWILIGHT!?” There’s a girl screaming from a distance, you look at Kazuki—no. Hiroshi. He immediately grabbed your wrist, speeding at the speed of light. You then hear some phone clicking—and people shouting “CARNIVALVIOLIN IS REAL!?”

You were seated in the middle by Hiroshi, he didn’t even think twice once to start his car and drove off—in the middle seat, you were praying for ATLEAST, he didn’t break any traffic rules. Because it would most definitely be a nightmare…

You honestly had so so so many questions. Well, you understand that why Hiroshi lied about his name, he’s famous. But from many questions, why does he wants you!? You swore you were average, but guess people have their own opinions…

Hiroshi carried you, to what you thought might be an apartment—with so much staff that was staring at you. Even some, trying to talk to Hiroshi but he brushed them off, he practically rushed to the elevator and ran to his room—and make you flop on his bed. As much as you want to put a serious face, it failed miserably by how much his room has you. From your albums and merch, basically everything.

For a moment he just stare—his eyes were blank. The awkward silence stretched, just your eyes and his raven eyes staring at each other. The silence wouldn’t be broke if you didn’t say something that’s kind of stupid; “Did you bring the stuff from the carnival?”

Your lips then straighten, Hiroshi just stared at you for a good couple minutes, he let out a chuckle, shaking his head amusingly.

“Of course,” he said, sitting next to you. Hiroshi then turned his gaze to the wall in front of him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry. I panicked earlier.”

Hiroshi stared at the floor, his eyes slowly flickered when you sat up next to him. He was mostly silent, he just watched your movements. You hesitantly grabbed his hand, intertwining them with yours, your similar smile formed on your lips that made Hiroshi giddy in his heart.

“Being an idol is a nightmare for you, huh?” You leaned forward, Hiroshi’s nose and your met. “Don’t worry about it, though—we are popularity different. I understand what you’re going through.”

“Sometimes, idol’s life can be more heavy then a violinist, therefore; please… warn me next time.”

Hiroshi stared at you, his smirk was gone—non insight. You weren’t sure what’s going on in that mind of his, but you just smiled at him. Hiroshi looked from the top of your head and knees, his face just reddened even more as he closed his hips.

He huffed—sounded annoyed. But you can’t really find any sense of that, he gripped your wrist. “I—I don’t need this bullshit anymore—!” With a single hand, he grabbed both of your wrists and crossing them. He leaned forward to pressed his lips against yours—it felt rough. You thought it would at least be soft, guess you’re wrong.

When yours lips parted, Hiroshi grabbed your shoulders—with force that’s enough to not actually hurt you, he placed you down on to the floor. Putting you on your knees, you look straight—a huge tent was in sight. How big is even this is..?

You felt Hiroshi’s hand moved to the back of your head, slightly making you leaned forward. You gulped, slowly yet hesitantly, your hands slowly unzipped his pants, Hiroshi’s cock was in front of your face, it’s shadow hovering over your head. You gulped nervously, but Hiroshi was impatient.

“C’mon, use your mouth. Don’t you know how to give someone a blowjob?” He huffed, he pulled your forward, the veins of Hiroshi’s cock was touching your nose.

You let out a quiet sigh, you place your over Hiroshi’s hips. You opened your mouth, Hiroshi looked down the moment your mouth was wrapping around his glans, slowly moving your way down to take his dick shamelessly. He pulled out his phone when you slightly gagged by his cock, thankfully, his phone isn’t in flash like earlier in the carnival.

“Use your fingers to open yourself.” Hiroshi command, he put down his phone and with his right hand—he pulled your hair as his cock was hitting at the back of your throat.

You can deny him… but you were horny, using your left hand, you swiftly opened the button of your pants. Your fingers slipped under your boxers, inserting your index and middle finger. You choked out a moan, sucking Hiroshi and opening yourself up is weird, well. You’ve opened yourself up before. But doing this both at the same time is weird.

Weird but you liked it.

Hiroshi then pulled your mouth from his cock, precums slowly coming from the slit of his glans as he used his thumb and index, he gently pulled your tongue out. There were some of his precums in your mouth, your face was red—Hiroshi ‘s eyes narrowed at your mouth. “Stood up.”

Hiroshi looked at you the moment you stood—his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you over his lap, his cock was in front of your clothed stomach, Hiroshi then pulled down your pants and throwing them to the floor. With your lower now bare, he ripped the dress shirt—the buttons scattering everywhere. Your hand grabbed his wrists but your chest is now bare. It’s unfair… he’s still using his jacket!

A smirk played on Hiroshi’s lips as his hands moved over your hips, lifting you up. He moved you where your hole and his dick brushed over each other, you shivered by that. Hiroshi slowly pushed you down over his cock, his glans were inside of you—it stretched you out so much. You didn’t measure it would stretched you this much, but thanks to his precums, at least. It doesn’t hurt.

Hiroshi’s hand grabbed your ass and squeezed your flesh, before he landed aloud smack that made you whined. You swore it would leave a mark, so Hiroshi gently soothed the sting with his hand. He whispered sweet nothings, he thrust his hips upwards—making you whimpered.

His cock was big, thick and enough to rubbed over your prostate. Your mind was fuzzy, his hands were all over you too… his lips kept pressing to your neck with his unforgiving pace, his fingers traced your body like it was a hidden treasure. Your own dick twitched, moans you struggled to keep down kept spilling from your lips.

And Hiroshi knew, he looked at your cockdumb face, he hummed softly next to your ear as he rested his chin over your shoulder. He stopped his face, Hiroshi’s free hand slapped your ass—a finger entered your hole, you hissed as you moved at your own pace since, well. He isn’t moving and you were desperate to cum.

Hiroshi’s finger was next to his cock, your hands gripped to his jacket when you finally—come undone. A loud moan that you didn’t expect came from your lips, you were a whimpering—whining mess. You stained Hiroshi’s jacket you knew was expensive as fuck. But you’re too tired, at least. For now.

You tried to shifted—trying to get a comfy position when you felt warmth filling your hole, you twitched as Hiroshi pulled out his cock from your puffy hole. You let out a silent whine, Hiroshi looked down. Damn, he sure made a mess out of you, he was about to apologize when he saw you already sleeping in his hold, he fisted his hand, trying not to go horny.

“Good… good night.”

The morning from the window of Hiroshi’s room was annoying for you, do all idols woke up so early in the morning?

You sat up, your body was sore as fuck. Hiroshi was sleeping beside you, hair messy and his arms wrapping around your waist. You tried to pray him off—which ended with a tightened grip. Well, that was useless.

You turned your head over your phone that was charged on the nightstand, you suspected who do it was Hiroshi, but you just shrugged, thinking about it later. You opened your phone, the amount of notifications?

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

You forgot about Haruka. Shit—! You slightly panicked, Hiroshi groaned when you squirm, his arms tightened once more—making you nearly unable to breath.

“Hiros—Sato-san! Please, get of me. My manager—” Hiroshi leaned forward to placed a kiss over your lips, silencing enough as he pulled the kiss. Pressing his finger over your lips.

“…Just Hiroshi. Please,” he begged, his voice was deep. Maybe from his sleep, Hiroshi sat next to you, giving you his jacket as he stood up. “Get ready then, I’ll bring you to Yamada-san.”

You sat there dumbfounded as Hiroshi then walked away to his kitchen, opening his fridge calmly, like he didn’t do anything lewd last night with you.

Hiroshi fun facts — !

🎡 — Hiroshi canonically fly to the Philippines, because he heard in a fast-food restaurant that shall be unnamed were having a collab with you, and actually paid the restaurant to buy the cutouts of you.

🎡 — Hiroshi, being the horny and creepy man that he was, goon to your pics. And, unfortunately for Tenma, he saw him and Hiroshi just... shrugged. Continuing his lewd act.

🎭 — taglist : @onementally-unstabel-kid @starrykie @carnalcrows (lmao you didn't specify so both tagged it is)

#axetive's works !#oc #oc x reader #oc x male reader #male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #uke male reader

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aila0veyou2death · 2 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𖹭 pairing: mohawk!mark grayson x male!punk!reader (A.K.A rage-fueled delinquent with piercings and unresolved mommy issues x grin-wearing misfit with a punk playlist and a history of bad ideas)

𖹭 TW: cheating, blood, violence, cursing, mommy issues, reader is slightly older than mark, depressing thoughts, strangers-to-friends with benefits trope?, slight angst, anger issues, substance use (alcohol/smoking implied), marking, unspoken feelings, unhealthy coping mechanism, overstimulation, 4nal s3x, handj0b, belly bulging, spit as lube, some gay shit, top!mark, bottom!reader, p0rn with a plot.

𖹭 author's note: there's seriously not enough mohawk!mark content out there, and even less mark grayson x male!reader fics—so i said, screw it, I'll just write one myself. This fic was inspired by @asaarii's mohawk!mark x punk!reader—definitely worth to check out ♡

Warning though: this fic is long, messy, and it's my first time writing a bl, so bear with me! Hope you enjoy :P

Mark's knuckles were still sore from yesterday.

He flexed his hand slowly under the cafeteria table, watching the faded bruises bloom purple under his skin like wilting flowers. The skin around his knuckles was split in places, rough and raw. He hadn't even noticed when it happened—he just kept swinging.

Some creature had ripped through a mall parking lot yesterday. Another ugly, screeching thing from god knows where. Mark showed up because it was what he was supposed to do—what Omni-Man's son was meant to do. Be the hero. Save the day. Do it all with a clean conscience and a smile for the cameras.

But he snapped.

He didn't just stop the monster—he beat it down until it stopped moving. Until it stopped breathing. Until it was just a twitching, pulpy mess under his fists. He remembered the sound more than the sight. The dull thuds, wet and meaty, echoing off concrete. He remembered the cameras catching every second of it. Some hero.

He didn't know if he regretted it. But he knew Debbie saw it.

The footage had aired on the news loop last night. Blood splattered across his uniform. His eyes, shadowed behind broken goggles, burned with fury. His jaw was clenched, teeth bared, looking less like a man and more like something barely human. Debbie hadn't said a word when he got home. She didn't yell. Didn't ask if he was okay.

She just turned off the TV.

This morning, she didn't speak to him at all.

She sat in silence, sipping her coffee with that same blank look on her face, like she couldn't even stand to look at him. Like having Mark in the house was a reminder of a mistake she never wanted to make in the first place. He felt like he was losing it. She just sighed, murmured something about being late for work, and walked past him like he was part of the furniture.

It always started the same: the tightness in his chest, the quietness in the house, the echo of his own footsteps. Mark hated that house. It was too clean. Too empty. Too haunted. His mom barely spoke to him anymore, and when she did, it was with that tired voice like she was talking to Nolan again.

He hated being the only damn thing left that tied him to the man he used to call his father.

And what he hated even more was that, day by day, he was turning into him.

Across from him now, Eve was still talking about yesterday's events, about what he did. Her words came soft and careful, like each one might be the one that finally set him off. She hadn't touched her food either, just picking at the corner of her napkin, glancing up every now and then like she was hoping he'd meet her halfway. But Mark was stone still, his silence was heavy and his eyes were distant. The only sign he was even present was the slow clench of his jaw and the flex of his bruised hand beneath the table.

She took a small breath. "You didn't have to kill it like that…"

Mark didn't look at her.

"You know, she called me..." Eve said after a moment. "Your mom. Last night."

That got his eyes on her.

"She didn't say much," Eve added quickly, like it would soften the blow. "Just that… when she saw you on the screen, all bloody like that—she said she could barely recognize you, Mark. And, um… she said it reminded her of your dad."

Mark's lips pressed into a hard line. "Of course it did."

"Every damn thing about me reminded her of that fucking bastard."

Eve shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip, her eyes scanning him, as if trying to read what was behind the hardness of his expression. She finally sighed, the tension between them were too thick for her to ignore any longer.

"Mark..." She began softly, her voice quieter than usual. "Are you... okay?"

He didn't answer right away, his eyes flickering to hers but quickly darting away again. Eve pressed on, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup, trying to keep her tone neutral, but there was a hint of concern in her voice. "You've been kinda ghosting me lately. I get that you've got stuff going on, but..."

He finally looked up at her and his expression was unreadable. There was something vulnerable in his eyes—just for a split second, but it was there.

"You don't have to worry about me." Mark muttered, his voice quieter now. "I'm fine."

Eve didn't buy it, and he knew she wouldn't. She knew him too well. Her eyes searched his face, her brow furrowed in concern. "Mark, don't shut me out. You can't just—" She stopped herself, the words hanging in the air.

"You don't know what it's like," he said suddenly, his voice strained, like he was holding something back. "To always be... that person. The one people expect to save the day. The one that always has to be strong. Or tough. Or... whatever."

Eve took a deep breath and reached out, placing a hand lightly on his. The warmth of her touch, so simple, was enough to break through some of the distance. "I get it, Mark," she said, her voice was soft but steady. "But that's not why I'm asking. I'm asking because I care about you... and I haven't heard from you in days. So... just let me in, okay? Don't push me away."

For a moment, Mark stayed silent, with his eyes searching for hers. There was a flicker of something behind his hardened exterior, something softer—vulnerable, even. But it quickly vanished as he pulled his hand away.

"I'm fine." he said again, the words sharper this time. "I don't need you looking out for me like I'm some damn kid, Eve. I don't need a babysitter—I need a girlfriend who actually gets that."

Eve let out a slow breath, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her voice steady. The frustration bubbling inside her was getting harder to ignore, clawing its way up her throat like something alive. "I'm not trying to babysit you, Mark. I just… want to be there for you. Is that so bad?" Her voice cracked slightly at the end, a mix of hurt and exasperation slipping through.

KRING-KRING-KRING—

The shrill ring of the bell cut through the tension like a blade.

Mark immediately stood, the legs of his chair screeching against the cafeteria floor. He scooped up a handful of whatever was left on his tray and shoved it into his mouth like he hadn't just spent the entire lunch period brooding in silence.

Eve barely had time to say anything before he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Mark—" she started, standing halfway from her seat.

"I'll see you around." he muttered through his teeth, not even sparing her a glance as he walked off, his shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

She watched him go, still holding the edge of her tray with her fingertips, like she was hoping he might turn around. But of course, he didn't.

He never did.

He went through the day with furrowed brows and a bored expression, dragging his feet from class to class like the world had personally offended him. Professors talked, assignments piled up, and conversations buzzed around him, but it all passed through him like static.

People gave him space—some out of respect, most out of discomfort. He didn't care. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to be asked if he was okay.

Not when his head was a mess and his patience was long gone.

By sixth period, Mark's mood was radioactive.

Every hallway felt too loud, too bright. The screech of lockers, the smell of cheap cafeteria food lingering in his hoodie, the way people walked around him like he was a puddle of something they didn't want to step in—it all fed the gnawing thing inside him.

His head was a static storm, and he didn't really heard anything anyone said all day.

So when William slid into the seat beside him, Mark didn't even glance his way. He just stared straight ahead, with his jaw locked and shadows under his eyes.

"Hey..." William started, his voice careful.

Mark's fingers twitched against the desk.

"You okay, man? You've been... different lately."

Silence.

"I mean—different in a bad way."

Mark's lips twitched into a humorless smirk, but he still didn’t look at him.

"You're not answering any of my texts. You skipped out on our group project yesterday. Eve's worried too. She said you've been ignoring her for days. And then the whole..." William trailed off, like he was debating whether to go there. And he did.

"Monster thing. I saw the news. The fight.”

Now Mark turned to look at him, slow and sharp.

"That creature you fought. You didn't just beat it—you ripped it apart. It looked like a horror movie, man."

"It was a monster." Mark said flatly.

"I know," William replied quickly. "I know it was. But still—you usually hold back. You used to at least try to keep it clean. This time, you just..."

"I finished the fight."

"You slaughtered it, Mark." William's voice dropped lower. "In front of everyone."

There was something in William's eyes that made Mark’s stomach twist. Not fear. Not disgust.

Worse.

Pity.

Why?

Mark's fists clenched under the table. The bruises on his knuckles burned.

"It was going to kill a kid..." he muttered.

William sighed and said, "I'm just saying you didn't look like yourself up there. You looked... angry. Almost like a madman."

"I was angry."

William hesitated. "Does this have something to do with your parents?"

Mark's eyes narrowed.

"She called me the other day..." William continued, oblivious or maybe just determined. "Your mom. You're acting out again. Said she didn't know what to do with you anymore."

"You talked to my mom?" Mark's voice was barely a whisper, tight with disbelief. "What is it with you people talking to my mom!?"

"Look, she's upset, man." his friend said, holding up his hands. "She even embarrassed herself, ranting to her kid's friend about everything. She said you've been acting more and more like your dad and—hell, I don't know—it's freaking her out. I didn't know what to say."

"How about you just stay out of other people's business."

"Hey! I'm just worried, okay? I'm your best friend, Mark. I know things are hard right now—with your dad and everything... I-I just... I miss the guy who wasn't trying to pick a fight with the world every time someone looked at him wrong."

Mark's chair scraped back violently.

He stood up, looming over William, with his eyes dark and his mouth drawn in a tight line.

"Mind your own damn business, Will. You don't get to talk about her or what's going on with my fucking family. And don't talk like you know a damn thing about what I'm feeling."

William stood up too, but not to fight—just to try to hold his ground. "I'm just trying to help."

Mark's vision blurred red.

"You wanna help?" he said through gritted teeth. "Then shut the hell up!"

One punch—straight to the jaw. A sickening crack echoed off the walls. William crashed backward into a desk, landing hard and clutching his face with a pained yell.

For a second, the room was still. It was silent.

Then came the chaos.

A few classmates gasped and shouted. One girl screamed. Another guy jumped up and shoved Mark back, yelling, "What the hell's wrong with you?!"

Mark's temper snapped like a whip.

He swung again, this time at the guy who'd shoved him. Fists collided, desks crashed, and chaos exploded around them like a fuse had been lit. Someone tried to pull him back, but Mark jerked away, teeth gritted and eyes blazing.

Bodies scrambled. Chairs screeched across the floor. A girl screamed. The room was warped into noise and panic.

A teacher finally burst in, breathless and red-faced, shouting his name like it was something vile.

"Mark Grayson!"

It was enough to snap everything to a halt.

Mark didn't fight it when they dragged him out of the classroom, leaving a mess of overturned desks, dropped notebooks, and stunned faces in his wake. William was still sitting on the floor, hand pressed to his jaw, staring at him like he didn't know who he was anymore.

Mark didn't apologize. Neither did he explain himself.

He kept his head high and his mouth sealed shut, walking out with his bruised, bloodied knuckles burning like a badge of everything he didn't want to say out loud.

The teacher behind him spat out words about disciplinary action, and how they were going to call his mother.

As if that meant anything to him.

As if she still gave a damn.

They threw out the word “detention” like it was a threat.

Fine.

He could rot in detention.

Better than rotting in a place full of people who thought they knew him. Who thought they had the right to poke at wounds they couldn't even begin to understand.

Let them talk. Let them whisper. Let them stare.

He hates them all equally.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The fluorescent lights above buzzed like they were trying to get on Mark's nerves. He sat slumped at the back of the near-empty classroom, his cheek pressed against the cool surface of the desk. His eyes were half-lidded, locked on the painfully slow second hand of the wall clock as it ticked, ticked, ticked—like it was mocking him.

The room smelled like pencil shavings and old coffee. A single ceiling fan spun lazily above, doing nothing to move the stale air. The teacher assigned to babysit them hadn't even looked up from her book since he walked in. Mark figured she probably didn’t want to be here any more than he did.

His knuckles were still split from earlier, wrapped in a shitty paper towel he found in the nurse's office. The sting was dull now, just a reminder. A quiet throb that matched the one in his chest.

William didn't say anything when they dragged him out and just stared.

And his mom—yeah, she was probably ignoring the school's voicemail by now.

Whatever.

Mark didn't regret it.

He just wanted the day to end.

But then—

The door creaked open.

Mark lifted his head off the desk, just enough to glance at you when the door opened.

You stepped in like you owned the place—shoulders loose, boots scuffing against the tile, a lazy grin tugging at your lips like you were in on some joke the rest of the world missed.

Everything about you screamed defiance. From the bold blue and white lettering on your black Hellfire shirt to the layered chaos of your outfit, it looked like you belonged on a fashion runway and in a back-alley brawl all at once.

A red plaid wrap skirt hung over distressed cargo jeans, cinched tight at the waist with overlapping black leather belts that added a sharp edge. Chains clinked softly with every step, swinging from your belt and wrapped around your bag—the shape of it almost like a purse, covered in enough enamel pins to count as armor. A black guitar case rested against your back like a weapon, and a guitar pick swung from your neck, catching the light as you moved.

Mark slowly blinked. You looked like a warning label for every bad idea he was trying not to have lately.

The teacher didn't even lift her head from her desk. "Rules are the same..." she murmured, with her voice flat. "No phones, no talking, no food and try not to breathe too loud. You know how it is..."

You gave her a mocking salute.

Then—only then—you turned your head, catching Mark's eyes. Your grin softened just a little into something more like a smirk. You gave him a casual nod as you walked over to the desk beside him. It was cool and effortless. Like the two of you already knew each other in some parallel universe where the world made sense.

Mark stared at you. He didn't nod back. Just dropped his gaze and set his cheek against his palm like he hadn't just felt something shift in the air.

You slid into the seat next to him, like you were settling into your throne, and dropped your guitar case gently beside you. Then, without a word, you pulled out a sketchbook from your bag and a pencil from your pocket. You flipped to a blank page and started drawing—quiet, focused, like none of this mattered. Like the room wasn't full of tension and apathy and the kind of silence that cracked if you breathed too hard.

After a long stretch of silence, just the ticking clock and the occasional scratch of pencil on paper, Mark felt a light poke against his shoulder.

He barely moved, just flicked his eyes sideways in a slow, tired glance. You were staring at him with a casual expression, pencil still in hand.

"You got any sharpener there, buddy?" you asked, with your voice low but playful.

Mark sighed through his nose. "No, I don't..." he muttered, eyes flicking forward again, already annoyed.

But you didn't back off. "Hm, nah, I don’t think so," you mused, tapping your chin with the pencil. "You sure you don't have any?"

"I already told you I don't." he snapped, barely above a whisper, jaw tight. "Leave me alone."

"Too bad," you said with a shrug, tone breezy. "Looks like I won't be able to give you any hair."

Mark's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "What?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you turned your sketchbook around and held it out to him with both hands. A grin tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pointed at the half-finished drawing on the page.

It was him—the drawing was detailed, sharp, and it was unmistakably Mark. His scowl was perfectly captured, that permanent scorn etched between his brows like it belonged there. The angle of his jaw, which is tight and clenched. Even the slight hunch in his shoulders, like he was always bracing for something, was drawn with care. You'd even shaded the dark circles under his eyes with a soft smudge, capturing the weight he carried in silence.

The drawing was half-body—his arms were folded over his desk, head tilted slightly to the side, just like what he had been doing minutes ago. His hoodie was outlined with quick but deliberate strokes, the texture of it was sketched in with surprising detail.

But the top of his head?

It was completely smooth.

Bald as a boiled egg.

You had shaded it with the same level of dedication, even adding a little shine line on the crown of his skull for dramatic effect. Like you hadn't just forgotten to draw his hair—you had committed to erasing it from existence.

Mark stared at the drawing for a long second. Then at you.

You raised your brows and smirked.

"What the hell, man." Mark deadpanned, with a glare as his eyes flicked between your face and the drawing.

A chuckle slipped past your lips, low and amused as you leaned back a little, twirling your pencil between your fingers. "Don't worry, you'll get your hair back." you said, grinning. "I just couldn't see it right from the angle you were sitting at, so I figured getting your attention was the best way to get a good look at it."

Mark narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying the excuse—or maybe just not used to anyone talking to him like that without flinching.

"But now that I can see it…" You tilted your head, eyes scanning him slowly like you were taking mental notes. "That innocent haircut of yours? Doesn't suit you at all."

You didn't wait for a response, already turning back to your sketchbook. The pencil began to move again, fast and light, making faint scratching sounds as you added new lines. "A mohawk would do you more justice. Maybe throw in a couple of piercings. Eyebrow, nose, lip—hell, all three. Anything to give you a little edge."

Mark blinked, clearly taken aback. "Have you been observing me?"

"Obviously. How do you think I managed to draw you like that?"

His lips pressed into a line, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now. Annoyance, sure. But also curiosity. No one had ever drawn him before—let alone imagined him bald, pierced, and wearing a mohawk.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, with your lips tugging into that same lazy smirk. "What are you in for, pretty boy?"

He looked away for a second, like he was debating whether he should answer or just let the silence stretch. His jaw clenched faintly, the muscle twitching under his bruised skin.

Then, finally, he muttered, "Got into a fight."

Your smirk widened, pencil still moving on the page. "Yeah, no shit. Let me guess…" You tapped the eraser against your chin theatrically. "You broke someone's nose just 'cause they were breathing too damn loud near you?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Jaw actually... He just wouldn't shut up."

"Ah," you murmured, eyes still on your sketchbook, pencil scratching softly. "Was he a friend of yours?"

Mark didn't answer right away. His expression tightened, the way it always did when something touched too close to raw. He stared ahead, jaw locked, hands curled into loose fists on the desk.

You didn't press, just let the silence breathe.

"He must've hit a nerve." you added lightly, still doodling.

His eyes flicked toward you for a split second, cautious. You weren't grinning like an asshole now—just watching him with that unreadable calm, like you were piecing him apart without asking permission.

"Used to be..." he finally muttered.

Mark looked away again, biting the inside of his cheek. "He kept asking what was wrong with me. Said he was worried. Like he didn't already know."

His voice was tight, edged with something bitter. "Acted like I needed help. Like he knew better. Just because we used to hang out, he thought that gave him some kind of right."

You hummed low under your breath, pencil still moving across the page. "So, you hit him."

"I warned him." Mark muttered coldly, "Told him to drop it."

You leaned back a little, smirk tugging lazily at your lips. "Yeah… that kinda makes sense."

Mark's eyes narrowed at you, like he couldn't figure out if you were agreeing with him or setting him up for a joke. Your tone was too smooth, too casual—like you were letting him fall into something and not warning him about the drop.

Then you spoke again, while still not looking at him. Your voice was calm and detached. Like you were just stating facts.

"It's the classic, you know? People act like they care, when they're really just digging around in your mess. They don't give a damn about your feelings or any shit...They just want to feel like they did something about it."

Mark stared at you, with his brows drawn low.

"And when you don't let them?" You shrugged. "Suddenly you're the asshole."

The way you said it—it wasn't pity. It wasn't even empathy. It was like you were just giving shape to the thoughts that had been bouncing in his head for weeks. Stuff he couldn't even name before. And now there it was, out in the open, like you'd peeled it off his ribs and held it up to the light.

It unsettled him.

He blinked, slowly, still watching you. He didn't know whether to feel called out or understood. Whether to be grateful or pissed off. Your voice hasn't changed, still easy and almost too chill for someone who just cracked his walls open like it was nothing.

Then you looked at him—really looked at him—and said, "Either way, you did what you had to do."

A beat passed.

"I mean, maybe you're not the bad guy. It’s not your fault that loser wasn't listening."

It landed harder than it should have. And Mark wasn't sure why.

"Why are you here, again?" Mark asked, brow furrowing like the question had been burning on his tongue for a while.

You chuckled, low and amused. "Gonna be honest with you, man… I'm not here for detention. Or any real reason, honestly." You leaned forward a bit, resting your elbows on the desk. "I just like coming here sometimes. Sketch people who look like they're going through it. Crisis faces are the most honest, y'know? Raw. If they're interesting enough, I kinda turn them into something else. Give 'em a new look. A better one."

Your gaze flickered down to your sketchbook. You picked it up, flipping it toward him with a small, lopsided smirk. "Look. It's you. Or, well—what I think you should look like right now."

Mark blinked, then tilted his head slightly to get a better look.

It was him—again. Same harsh lines, same intensity in the eyes. But this version had traded his shaggy, too-long hair for shaved sides and a fierce mohawk. You added piercings now too, bold and unapologetic—one pair through his eyebrow, two on either side of his nose, and another pair just beneath his lower lip. Like a version of him from some grungy, punk parallel universe type of shit.

You tapped the page lightly. "See? It works. Matches the storm in your head a lot better than that innocent 'boy-next-door' cut."

"You're weird as fuck," Mark muttered, glancing between the sketch and you, like he couldn’t decide which one was more bizarre.

"Thank you." you replied smoothly, bowing in your seat with an exaggerated flourish. One hand splayed dramatically across your chest like you were accepting an award. "I do try."

Mark snorted, shaking his head, but you caught the corner of his lip twitching—just barely.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Ever since that day, Mark started noticing you more around campus.

You're a chaos in eyeliner and plaid, a walking contradiction—half performance art, half delinquent gospel. Sometimes he'd see you surrounded by others who looked just as reckless and alive, lighting up the dead corners of school with laughter and graffiti. Other times, it was just you—hunched over your electric guitar in some shadowed stairwell or forgotten hallway, the strings humming something raw and distant, like an old song no one remembered how to sing.

And it was weird, how often your eyes would find him. Across the cafeteria, the courtyard, in-between classes. Always with that signature smirk like you already knew the punchline to a joke he hadn't even heard yet. And you'd nod at him—greet him with the kind of ease that felt like you weren't trying to be nice. You just saw him. Like you actually saw him.

And that messed with him.

Because most days, Mark felt invisible.

He walked through school like a shadow with a pulse. Noticed only when someone needed something—answers, help, a target. He didn't reach out anymore. Friends became people he used to talk to. People avoided him now, or they looked at him like something was off. And maybe they weren't so wrong.

After all, the more he saved the day, the worse he felt. Each time he flew off to stop some disaster, each time he pulled himself out of rubble or wiped blood off his hands—something inside him shifted. Got heavier. Angrier.

His mom barely looked at him anymore. Ever since his dad vanished—no, fled—after revealing himself as a monster who killed thousands, she'd been a ghost. Sitting in silence. Staring at nothing. It was like the light inside her died with her marriage. She checked out everything—motherhood included. And Mark had to carry it. Alone.

He couldn't even talk to her about it. He couldn't talk to anyone without angry.

And then there was you.

You, with your sketchbook and devil-may-care grin. You, showing him drawings of himself with mohawks and piercings, like you were trying to see the version of him that still haven't existed yet. You didn't ask him how he was. You didn't tell him what he should feel. You just said the things he was too scared to say out loud. About people pretending to care. About the weight of being misunderstood. About the anger.

It freaked him out—how much you got it.

Because Mark was angry. At the world. At the way it kept breaking, no matter how many times he tried to fix it. At his mom, for disappearing without ever leaving. At his dad, for showing him what strength really looked like and then shattering every part of that illusion. At himself—for still wanting something back. Some recognition. Some thanks. Something.

But all he ever got was more pain.

So yeah. He started thinking maybe you were right. Maybe he should have a mohawk. Maybe he should look the way he feels—like he's been through war and no one clapped when he made it back. Maybe the world didn't deserve the version of him that kept trying to do the right thing.

And every time your sketchbook came out—every time you greeted him with that smug, lazy grin like you saw right through the cracks—he couldn't help but wonder...

Were you mocking him?

Or were you the only one who actually got it?

It was their third detention together that month—when you kinda asked him out.

You were perched on top of a rusted metal desk by the window, one leg swinging lazily, munching on a fried chicken sandwich you'd somehow sneaked in without anyone knowing. The afternoon sun made everything feel hotter than it needed to be, dust swirling through cracked window panes. Mark sat slouched in the chair beside you, arms crossed, hood up, eyes glazed in that tired, dead-inside kind of way. He looked like he hadn't slept in days—and maybe he hadn't.

You were in detention for real this time, after one of the faculty finally pieced together who'd been behind the graffiti in the east stairwell and the mysteriously exploding vending machine. Mark was in for, reportedly, beating the shit out of some assholes at lunch. Again.

"You know..." you started, words muffled around your bite of sandwich, "Me and the gang are playing tonight. Not at the club—the city kicked us outta there for good. So we're taking it somewhere more… public."

He glanced at you, brows low. "Public?"

You licked your fingers, brushing crumbs onto your already-ruined jeans. "Yeah. Rooftop by the train station. Abandoned building. Broken elevators, busted windows, rats everywhere. Total dump. But the view? Killer."

Mark looked back at the floor.

You grinned. "Cops don't care about that place anymore. Probably forgot it even exists. And rooftops just feel kinda apocalyptic these days, don't they? Like the perfect place to scream into the void."

His jaw ticked. Lately, it felt like everything annoyed him—people, noise, silence. Himself most of all.

You leaned back on your arms and said, casually, "Bring your little girlfriend if you want."

Mark stiffened, but didn't look up.

"…We're not exactly on good terms."

You raised a brow, feigning a gasp. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Fuck off." he muttered, barely audible, and scoffed bitterly under his breath.

You clicked your tongue. "That sucks. But hey, maybe some loud music and social unrest will fix your dying love life."

He finally turned, shooting you a flat look. "Shut up. You're so annoying."

"And you're so grumpy." You smiled like it was a secret joke only you got. "We balance."

You hopped down from the desk, rummaging through your backpack until you pulled out a worn, creased flyer, edges curled and ink smudged. You handed it over. "Here. It's not official—obviously. Government types don't like it when kids hand out papers anymore. Might catch rebellion or something."

He took it and unfolded it slowly. The hand-drawn logo of The Demonheads screamed off the page: a snarling skull, cracked halo glowing above its head, wings made of rusted barbed wire. Below it was written it's time and place, in a messy scrawl—"NO COPS. NO HEROES. JUST NOISE."

Mark blinked. "The Demonheads?"

"Yup." you said, leaning close enough to see the crease in his brow. "The one and only."

"Ever heard of us?"

He shook his head.

You pressed a hand to your chest with a mock offense. "Ouch. I'm wounded."

He snorted, and for the first time all day, it wasn't sarcastic. Not really.

"The city hates us," you said. "Says we're bad influence. Loud. Unstable. Dangerous. They call us anarchists like it's an insult." You shrugged. "Maybe we are. Maybe we're just angry. But someone's gotta be."

You watched him trace the ink on the paper, his thumb brushing over the crooked halo.

"This whole place—" you added, quieter, "—the world, I mean. It's a joke. Rich assholes sit comfy while the rest of us rot. Government's just another gang in suits. Heroes pick and choose who's worth saving. And people pretend everything's fine 'cause they're scared of what happens if they admit it's not."

Mark didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

Because you saw it. That flicker. The shift. Like your words hit something in him that had been vibrating under the surface for a long time.

"Sounds like a riot," he muttered.

You grinned wide, sharp. "Only if we're lucky."

He kept the flyer.

Didn't say he'd go. Didn't say he wouldn't. But something in his expression changed—just a little. A crack in the mask. Curiosity, maybe. Or that quiet desperation to belong somewhere that didn't feel like a goddamn prison.

You just smiled and looked away.

You never asked if he was coming.

You already knew he would.

It was after detention when you met her.

Eve.

She was waiting for Mark outside the school gates, arms crossed tight over her chest, back straight like she was holding up some invisible weight. Her strawberry orange hair caught the dying afternoon light, golden and soft in contrast to the scowl she wore. You spotted her right away—she had that "angry girlfriend about to beat her boyfriend's ass" energy written all over her. And judging by the way her eyes immediately flicked to you, she'd been watching the building for a while.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, the chains on your ripped jeans jingling with every step as you and Mark walked out together. You still had smudges of sharpie ink on your fingers from the flyer you gave him earlier, your boots heavy against the concrete.

Mark slowed the second he saw her.

"…Great." he mumbled under his breath.

You raised an eyebrow. "That her?"

He nodded, already tense.

"Cute," you said with a smirk. "She looks like she could make the toughest guy piss himself just by looking at him."

Eve's gaze sharpened the closer you got. Her eyes trailed over your black spiked vest, the band patches stitched to your sleeves, the silver piercings on your face, the faded eyeliner smudged around your eyes. She didn't bother hiding the way she sized you up. Judging. Reading. Assuming.

You were used to it.

Mark stopped a few feet from her, but you kept walking—slow, unrushed, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it awkward.

"Hey," Eve said, but it wasn't to you. It was for Mark. Cold and flat. Her eyes didn't leave you. “Who's this?”

"I'm his detention buddy." You replied, grinning like the devil.

Mark sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"He's a senior." he muttered. "Name's [Y/N]. He's… cool."

"Cool?" She echoed, unimpressed.

You could feel it—her judgment thick in the air like perfume. Like she thought she had you all figured out just from the scuffed boots and chipped nail polish.

You leaned forward slightly, flashing a crooked smirk. "Don't worry, I haven't sacrificed him to Satan or anything. Yet."

Eve didn't laugh.

She just looked at Mark, eyes narrowing like she'd stepped in something foul. "Mark, I thought we were supposed to have dinner at your place tonight. I told you I was gonna grab groceries and everything, and instead, you're busy sitting through detention with...him?" Her eyes slid to you, unimpressed. "Are you serious right now?"

Mark frowned. "I'm sorry, okay? I forgot." he muttered, clearly not in the mood for a fight. "It's just detention."

Eve crossed her arms tightly over her chest, jaw tense. "Is he the reason you're like this?" she asked, casting a sharp glance at you like you were some kind of bad omen. "Skipping things. Picking fights. Getting into detention for throwing punches? What the hell is going on with you, Mark?"

You didn't say anything.

You just stood there, hands tucked into your pockets, quietly chewing the inside of your cheek as your eyes flicked between the two. You could feel the heat of her judgment crawling up your neck like smoke—like she’d already made her mind up about you the second she laid eyes on your boots and torn-up jacket.

Mark exhaled hard, looking away. "It's not like that."

"It looks like that."

Eve's voice wasn't loud, but the weight of it hit harder than if she'd screamed. Her gaze lingered on Mark for a long moment—hurt and disappointed—before she shook her head and stepped back.

"You've changed," she said flatly. "And not in a good way."

Then she turned around and walked off, disappearing into the late afternoon traffic of students still lingering on campus.

For a second, there was silence.

You shifted your weight and finally spoke, voice quieter than usual. "You should go after her."

Mark didn't move.

You gave him a look, more thoughtful than mocking this time. Then you turned, adjusting your guitar case over your shoulder, already halfway down the steps.

"See you around, pretty boy." you added without looking back.

The dinner at Mark's house was quiet—tense in that way where even the clinking of silverware felt too loud. Debbie sat at the head of the table, posture straight, polite smile etched onto her face like a mask she'd forgotten how to take off. The roast in front of them was overcooked, and the potatoes were dry. Not that anyone seemed to notice.

Eve tried. She really did. She made light comments here and there, complimented the food, and asked Debbie about her work. Debbie answered everything with short, courteous replies. She was there, physically, but something about her always felt far away. Like she was operating behind glass, reaching for a life she no longer recognized.

Mark didn't say much. He stabbed his food. Ate in silence. Eve's gaze kept drifting toward him, subtle but insistent—the way she looked at him that said say something, try, she's your mother, but he never returned her looks. Just kept his head down and his jaw tight.

Debbie poured herself a glass of wine halfway through. No one commented.

The air thickened with each passing minute, like the house itself was suffocating under the weight of everything left unsaid. Eve's smile started to falter. Her back straightened. Frustration flared in her eyes.

"So, uh..." Eve started again, clinging to conversation like a life raft, "Mark said he might check out Upstate University soon. They're expanding their programs—might be a good fit."

Mark didn't even glance up when he said, "I'm not going."

Eve blinked, caught off guard. "But… you were thinking about it. You said—"

"I changed my mind." His voice was flat and final.

Debbie didn't look up from her plate, but her grip on her fork visibly stiffened. The sound of her swallowing her wine was the only reply.

Eve frowned, lips pressed tight. She leaned back in her chair, her voice a touch sharper. "You could at least try, you know. Talk to her."

Mark's eyes flicked up at her, the kind of look that could freeze a bone.

"Why?" he said coldly. "So she can pretend everything's okay?"

Debbie still didn't say anything. But her breathing shifted. Just slightly.

Mark pushed his plate away. The screech of ceramic on wood made Eve flinch. "I'm done."

He stood, not waiting for permission or even an acknowledgment.

"Mark—" Eve tried, but he was already gone, disappearing down the hall with heavy steps that sounded like every bottled emotion crashing out of him at once.

Debbie sat still for a moment. Then quietly picked up his untouched plate and began to scrape the food into the trash.

She didn't cry. She just cleaned. Like always.

Eve didn't say another word. She only watched her, and for the first time, maybe started to understand why Mark was slipping further and further away.

Mark locked himself in his room, not bothering to say goodbye when Eve left. The slam of the front door barely made him blink. He laid on his bed, hoodie still on, boots half-kicked off, staring blankly at the ceiling before letting his phone fill the silence.

The screen glowed against his face in the dim room, flickering through news articles, memes, garbage content—and then, a post. A grainy black-and-white clip of a post-punk band mid-performance. It was loud and raw. Screaming into the mic like the world wronged them. The crowd moved like a single beast, thrashing and alive.

It reminded him of you.

That casual chaos in the way you existed. The worn-out jeans, the eyeliner smudged from who-knows-what, the bite in your sarcasm that made him want to respond even when he didn’t feel like talking.

"We balance." You said, with that crooked grin on your face in detention, like the two of you are friends.

Mark stared at the video a bit longer, then typed the band name "The Demonheads" into the search bar.

Then, there it was.

Clips. Posts. Grainy concert footage. Shaky camera angles. Protest posters. A video of a rooftop set, you at the front, guitar slung low, shirt ripped at the shoulder, eyes wild. You screamed into the mic like it owed you money, like the city needed to hear you or it'd die trying not to.

There's another clip—someone caught you between songs, sweaty and laughing, flicking off the camera with a middle finger and a wink.

Mark didn't smile, but something in his chest shifted. Tightened.

He kept scrolling. Watching.

It wasn't just music. It was something else. Something angry and loud and weirdly honest. Like every part of you was up there bleeding out into speakers and cracked pavement.

He watched until his phone screen dimmed from inactivity, only then realizing how long he'd been scrolling. With a quiet sigh, he locked it and let it drop onto the bed beside him. Then, from his hoodie pocket, he pulled out the flyer you'd given him—creased, half-crumpled, but still intact.

He stared at it for a long moment, sitting up with his elbows on his knees, fingers brushing over the sharpie-scrawled ink like he was trying to feel whatever it was burning under your skin when you handed it to him.

Mark's eyes narrowed, then looked up across the room. On his desk, the glow of the digital clock blinked: 8:10 PM.

The concert wouldn't start until nine.

He stood slowly, like something was pulling him up from the weight that had been pressing him down all night. He walked out of his room and into the dimly lit hallway, made his way to the bathroom, and flicked the switch. The mirror greeted him with his own reflection—with his messy, overgrown hair, and his hoodie that had stretched and worn from too many restless nights, and eyes that carried more exhaustion than they should.

He opened the drawer under the sink and reached for the electric clippers. They were still there. Nolan's, probably. The same kind his dad used to trim up his clean, perfect image. That alone made him want to throw it against the wall.

Instead, he turned it on. The sharp, vibrating buzz filled the bathroom, and Mark stared down at it.

Then, slowly, he raised his head to the mirror.

He remembered the drawing you showed him weeks ago—chuckling, half-teasing, as you claimed, "A mohawk would do you more justice." It had been you who sketched him with a jagged mohawk and a jacket scrawled with band patches and flame motifs. He'd rolled his eyes then, said you were weird. But now… he saw it. Felt it. The version of himself in that sketch felt closer to who he wanted to be than the stranger in the mirror now.

He lifted the clippers to the side of his head.

Hair began to fall. Tufts slid down his neck, scattered over the white sink like shedding something that didn't belong to him anymore. The buzz filled the silence, grounding him in each reckless stroke. He wasn't a pro—his hands shook slightly, and it wasn't perfect. The lines were messy, the angle a little too sharp on one side—but he kept going. He didn't stop until both sides were shaved down and the middle was left tall, raw, and real.

He turned off the clippers. Silence then returned.

His reflection didn't look like that innocent Mark anymore. The boy who used to just nod along, keep his head down, try to be what everyone expected him to be. What stared back at him now was someone new—sharper, rougher around the edges, but somehow more honest.

Still buzzing with something raw, he stepped into the shower, letting the water rinse away the fallen hair and whatever else he didn't need anymore. The steam curled around him, clouding the mirror, hiding what he used to be. He stayed under the stream longer than necessary, fingers running through the damp ridge of his new mohawk. It still felt unreal. Bold. Stupid. But right.

When he stepped back into his room, towel around his neck and waist, water still dripping from his collarbones, he crossed to the closet. For once, he didn't reach for the usual hoodie or school-washed jeans. He dug deeper. Past the clothes Debbie bought. Past the ones Nolan once folded for him like it meant something.

He pulled out an old black denim vest that has rips on its shoulders—the one he barely remembered owning. Then a dark long-sleeve to wear under it. He tugged on some beat-up jeans with a few chain loops and grabbed his boots from under the bed, knocking off its dust as he shoved his feet into them.

It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't supposed to be.

He glanced at the time: 8:48 PM.

He still had enough time to show up.

To see you.

That thought alone made his chest tighten—some strange mix of nerves and something warmer, something stupid and bold.

So he shoved the flyer back into his pocket, cracked the window open, and slipped out into the night.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

When he arrived at the rooftop, he touched down without a sound, unnoticed by the swarm of bodies and buzzing energy from afar. The music hadn't started yet, but the place was already alive. Neon lights flickered across the open space, casting strange colors onto swaying silhouettes. He stayed in the shadows, taking it all in. You were right—the view was killer. The skyline burned in the distance, and the wind tugged softly at his mohawk, carrying the chill of the night across his skin.

Then, it began.

A girl with wild green hair, dressed in a electric blue and black outfit that flashed under the lights, stepped onto the stage with a mic and a manic grin. She shouted something that was lost to the rising cheers, and just like that, the rooftop exploded into sound.

Lights flared, speakers boomed, and a red handheld flare shot up from the crowd, bathing the chaos in blood-colored smoke. People screamed, jumped, and danced, their shadows stuttering with each flash of the strobes.

But Mark didn't hear any of that. Not really.

Because the second your voice echoed through the rooftop—raw, loud, and commanding—the lights stuttered and then snapped to you. And there you were.

You stood at front in the center like you owned the world, shirtless, the pale light catching the sharp lines of your body. You wore only leather—black and heavy, strapped with rows of silver-studded belts that ran from your wrists, across your pants, down to your boots. Each step you took looked like it was weighed down by chaos itself, and yet, you moved like it was nothing.

You looked like a piece of art, underneath those lights.

And something twisted in Mark's chest.

His breath caught, just for a second. He didn't understand why. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you before—but it had never been like this. There was something about seeing you up there, in your element, drenched in sound and fury, screaming into the mic like you were born to tear the world apart with your voice.

He blinked. And swallowed.

He stood there frozen, with his heart pounding in a way he couldn't quite name.

Was this admiration?

Was it awe?

Was it—?

No. Whatever it was, he didn't have a word for it.

So he stayed hidden, staring. And listening.

He watched as you strummed your electric guitar—each note sharp, cutting through the heavy night air. With every motion of your hand, the lights seemed to respond, pulsing and dancing along, casting glimmers over the metal buckles and silver spikes of your belted pants. You glowed in movement, alive and uncontained.

You sang with that mischievous grin of yours, reckless and free, tossing your voice into the sky like it didn't owe anyone anything. You laughed between lines, bumping shoulders with your bandmates, playing like the world was yours and you knew it. The crowd roared and sang with you, hypnotized, addicted.

But then—something shifted.

In the middle of the chaos, as the next verse rolled in and the bass dropped, your eyes scanned the crowd… and paused.

Mark felt it again. That exact moment.

The exact second your gaze locked with his.

It was brief. Just a flicker.

But it hit him like a fist to the chest.

Time didn't stop—it just warped. The music kept going, the lights kept flashing, but Mark couldn't hear any of it anymore. Not when your eyes found him in the crowd, even from behind the smoke and bodies and noise. Not when you tilted your head the slightest bit, lips curling like you knew something he didn't.

And for some reason… his heart clenched. Hard. Like it was trying to fight its way out of his ribs.

He didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Just watched you.

And wondered what the hell that feeling was.

He watched you throughout the whole show—mesmerized, almost dazed.

Whether you were stepping forward to sing a solo or slipping back to let the other vocalists take the spotlight, your presence never dimmed. You carried the stage even when silent, even when your fingers were the only ones speaking, dragging thunder out of your guitar like it was a living thing. You didn't just play—you breathed life into every chord, every beat. You made the music move.

And god, it was fire.

He had never seen you like this.

Sure, you always looked like trouble—sharp around the edges, untouchable, wild—but now? You looked like chaos. Beautiful, roaring chaos. Unapologetic and magnetic.

Your band's songs burned through the speakers—shouting rebellion, bleeding freedom, aching with love and loss and rage and euphoria. They weren't just songs. They were war cries. Anthems. Screams from the inside. And you were at the center of it all, feeding the storm like it was your religion.

Mark stood still on the rooftop, hidden in shadow, yet feeling more exposed than ever. Something in his chest was clawing its way up, confused and fast and hot. He didn't even realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the railing until his knuckles ached.

He should look away. He should snap out of it.

But instead, he kept watching you like a man who just realized he'd been starving.

It was midnight—closer to 1 AM—when the noise finally began to die down. The music faded, the lights dimmed, and the crowd slowly unraveled into the night, laughing and buzzing with adrenaline. People were saying their goodbyes, shouting thanks for the killer performance. You and your band took turns giving small speeches of gratitude, rough and sincere, before the rooftop slowly began to clear out.

The energy was still buzzing in the air as you helped gather cables and carry down amps, sweat clinging to your skin, your voice a little hoarse from the night.

That's when you saw him.

Mark.

He stepped forward from the shadows, quiet but not exactly trying to hide. The second your eyes landed on him, you froze mid-movement, then a grin curled at the corners of your lips.

"Holy shit..." you breathed, wiping your hands on your pants and stepping toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. "You actually came!"

You gave a soft laugh, walking closer. "I thought I was just high when I saw you in the crowd, man." You looked him over with a playful smirk, gaze flicking up to his mohawk. "God, you definitely look the part tonight."

He didn't say anything right away—his throat tightened up, words jammed behind it like a traffic pile-up. Up close, with the flickering rooftop lights hitting your skin, you looked even more unreal. The metal on your pants glinted like stars, and the lingering heat from your performance clung to you like a halo.

He swallowed and finally muttered, "You were… insane out there."

Your smile didn't falter. "That's kind of the goal." You said, before your tone shifted into something softer, "I'm really glad you came, Mark."

You didn't let the moment linger too long.

Instead, you grabbed Mark by the wrist, tugging him gently as you said, "C'mon, I gotta introduce you to the gang."

One by one, you brought him around to meet your bandmates—each with a unique look, a different edge, but all warm and welcoming in their own rough way. They exchanged greetings, a few handshakes, nods of respect, and some smirking gratitude for him showing up. One of them even clapped him on the back and said, "Didn't think you were real, man. We were starting to think they made you up."

You laughed, throwing an arm over Mark's shoulder like you'd known him forever. "Well, I told you he's real. Real enough to help us pack up, right?"

Mark blinked. "Wait—"

Too late. You were already tossing him a bundle of cables and pointing to a nearby case. "Come on, rockstar. Earn your afterparty."

He didn't argue. Not really. What else did he have to do? Go home? Sit in that cold, quiet house with nothing but his own thoughts gnawing at him?

Nah.

He helped carry down amps, coiled wires, and stacked boxes with the rest of you, his movements eventually syncing up with the rhythm of your crew. The whole thing was messy and loud and filled with exhausted laughter and the occasional burst of music from someone who just couldn't stop playing.

And when you slung your jacket over your shoulder and looked at him with that wild glint in your eyes, asking, "You down to go celebrate somewhere? For the show, and for, y'know... not getting arrested, tonight." Mark didn’t even hesitate.

"…Yeah." he said, wiping his hands on his pants. "Yeah, I'm down."

And just like that, the night wasn't over.

The underground club was like another world—dim neon lights glowing against graffiti-splattered walls, bass-heavy music pulsing like a second heartbeat. It smelled like sweat, beer, smoke, and something else—something electric. Your band blended right in, sliding into cracked leather booths, ordering drinks with familiar smirks, lighting up like they owned the place.

Mark kept close to you at first, still a little stiff, wide-eyed at the chaos—but you handed him a drink, your fingers brushing his, and just like that, the edge dulled.

The alcohol hit him fast. Maybe it was his first real time drinking. Maybe it was the music. Or the fact that you looked like some kind of devil in human skin tonight—jacket unzip, sweaty from the show, with a cigarette hanging loose between your lips as you leaned back with a half-lazy grin, shadows and red light dancing across your face.

God, you looked good.

Mark didn't say anything at first—just sat beside you, his drink nearly slipping from his hand as his limbs got heavier and his laugh got louder. The band was wild, one of them screaming out a chaotic love song into the karaoke mic, their voice cracking beautifully over the synths. Everyone was high. High on smoke, high on adrenaline, high on surviving another night.

You elbowed Mark gently. "Hey, pretty boy..." you grinned, "you alright?"

He looked at you, really looked at you. You had your boots kicked up on the edge of the table, smoke curling from your lips, and the glint in your eye made something twist deep in his gut. He blinked slowly, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed over from drink and something else. His mouth opened like he had something to say—but nothing came out.

You just laughed, low and soft, and nudged your drink toward him.

"Don't pass out yet, you're just getting started."

And Mark… smiled.

A real one. Loose. Crooked. Almost smug.

Something was shifting. Something dangerous, something exciting.

He leaned back, head tilting as he studied you through the blur and haze of the club's lights and sound. His lips parted again, just slightly, and even though his thoughts were swimming, one thing stood out—loud and clear through the fuzz:

You were beautiful. And maybe the kind of trouble he was starting to want.

The night blurred in colors and noise, everything spinning in rhythm with the music—your bandmates were laughing at something stupid, throwing arms around each other, play-fighting, dancing like the world might end tomorrow. Mark couldn't remember the last time he laughed this hard. Maybe never. The weight that had pressed on him for weeks, months—it lifted. Just for a while, he was nobody's son, nobody's weapon, nobody's disappointment.

He was just… Mark.

And you? You were everywhere. Teasing him with that smirk, knocking back drinks like they were water, shouting out lyrics into the mic beside him with fire in your throat. He didn't know when it started—this pull toward you—but it felt like gravity now.

You leaned into him, chest nearly brushing his as your laugh turned into a shout when the chorus hit, your voices tangled together in that dumb love song. His heart was pounding, alcohol surging through him, his skin was buzzing.

He took another drink—something bitter and burning—and then he looked up.

And there you were.

Suddenly straddling his lap, body close, breath warm, eyes half-lidded but sharp. His hands landed on your waist instinctively, like it was natural, like this had always been building up to this moment.

Then your lips were on his.

And everything else faded.

The music. The crowd. Even the ache he'd been carrying deep inside—it all disappeared as you kissed him like you meant it. Not sloppy or drunk. Intentional. Confident. And Mark? He didn't even hesitate. He kissed you back like his life depended on it, fingers tightening on your waist, mouth parting under yours, breath catching somewhere between surprise and need.

He didn't know what this meant.

But he didn't care. Not tonight.

Tonight, he was yours.

You pulled away with that same cocky smirk curving your lips, your pierced tongue flicking out, a thin strand of spit still connecting you both for a heartbeat before it broke. Your eyes glittered under the club's dim, pulsing lights, and Mark felt like he was falling into something he wasn't sure he wanted to escape from.

From somewhere in the chaos, one of your bandmates let out a loud, slurred cheer.

"Yooo! Let's gooo!"

Another one threw a crumpled napkin in your direction.

"Tongue action! We saw that, man!"

Laughter erupted all around.

Mark let out a breathy, flushed laugh, still a little dazed, still high on the kiss.

"That's gay, bro." he said through his chuckle, voice rough from drinking and from whatever the hell this feeling was.

You just grinned wider, sitting comfortably on his lap like you belonged there.

"Yeah? And? you said, tilting your head, cocky and so damn cool with a cigarette lazily held between your fingers. "You complaining?"

Mark met your eyes, lips still curled into something between a smile and disbelief. He looked away for a second, heat rising to his ears.

"...No" he mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek. "Didn't say that."

You let out a low laugh, taking a slow, casual puff from your cigarette, the tip glowing red before you exhaled a stream of smoke right past Mark's flushed face. Then you leaned in again, stealing another heated kiss from his lips—tasting of alcohol, ash, and chaos. The music blared on, people kept dancing and yelling in a haze of neon lights and smoke, but Mark… he was just there. With you sitting on his lap, drunk, kissed breathless, and falling.

It was electric. It was dangerous. It was fun.

But like all things that burned too hot—it had to end.

Eventually, people started trickling out. A few were dragged off by lovers or friends. Others staggered into the night, still singing off-key lyrics or laughing like idiots. Someone shouted their love for everyone. Someone puked behind the bar. The night was winding down, but Mark looked like he didn't want it to.

He leaned against you, heavy and out of it, eyes barely staying open.

"…I don't wanna go home." he muttered.

You didn't even need to ask. You just nodded once and slipped your arm around his waist, hoisting him up and getting both of you back through the city night like it was nothing.

Your place was dark, barely lit by the orange glow of a streetlight filtering through the blinds. You dropped him on your couch with a grunt—he landed with a soft, drunken laugh, sprawling out like he belonged there.

You peeled off your layers lazily, kicking off your boots and stripping down until you were just in your black boxers, the cold beer hissing as you popped it open. You sat on the edge of the couch beside him, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, head leaned back as you exhaled into the silence.

Mark turned his head slightly to look at you—dazed, maybe half-awake, with his pupils blown wide.

"You did great out there, buddy." you said, voice low and a little hoarse from all the shouting, singing, and smoke. There was a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you took another swig of your beer, glancing over at him from where you sat, the glow from your cigarette tip briefly lighting your face in the dim room.

Mark shifted on the couch, the leather creaking beneath him as he blinked slowly, looking up at you like he couldn't decide if this was real or a really vivid dream. His mohawk was a little messy now, his cheeks flushed, eyes still glazed.

You raised your brows. "Need anything? Water? Beer?"

He blinked again, then mumbled, "You."

The moment stretched.

Your cigarette paused mid-air.

Then you let out a small chuckle, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek, amused and maybe just a little caught off guard. "Damn," you muttered, taking another drink. "Were my kisses really that good?"

Mark groaned and dragged a hand over his face. "Don't—don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." You leaned back, smoke curling out from between your lips. "It's kinda cute."

He groaned again, face buried in a throw pillow now.

You grinned, biting back a laugh. "Beer it is, then."

You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and returned with another cold can of beer in your hand. Mark was where you left him—half-slouched, flushed, eyes tracking your every move like a predator trying not to pounce too soon.

You plopped down next to him, handed the can over with that lazy smirk of yours. "Here. Might sober you up a little."

But instead of taking it, his fingers curled around your wrist. Firm and steady.

You blinked, confused for a split second—then he yanked you closer, crashing his lips against yours.

Your eyes widened briefly, your heart skipped, but your body responded before your brain could catch up. You kissed him back with equal heat, until the taste of beer and smoke and something raw took over your mouth.

Then you gasped.

Because the next thing you knew, he pushed you down against the couch, the beer can slipping from your grasp and thudding to the floor with a dull clink!

Mark was on top of you, hovering and pressing you down, with his hands gripping your wrists and holding you there like he was afraid you'd vanish. The weight of him. The heat. The surprising strength in the way he pinned you down—it made your breath hitch.

His kiss grew hungrier. Deeper. His mohawk brushed against your face when he tilted his head. One of his knees pushed between your thighs. His body told you everything his mouth hadn't yet.

And for once… you weren't the one in control.

"You're stronger than you look." you breathed between kisses.

He smirked, lips brushing against your jaw. "You're hotter than you act."

Mark's lips then attack your neck, kissing, nipping, sucking—each one more desperate than the last. You felt his breath against your skin, warm and uneven, and then the sharp pull of his mouth leaving marks where no one else had dared before.

Your fingers gripped the couch cushions, pulse racing. The pressure of his body on yours, the tension in his movements—it was all hitting you at once.

Each nip and suck sends electric jolts straight to your core, your body arching into his touch instinctively. One hand released your wrist to grip the waistband of your boxers, yanking them downwards with a rough tug. The cool air hit your newly exposed flesh, your hardened cock springing free and slapping against your stomach.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Mark murmured and pulls away just enough to tug his own pants and briefs down, freeing his impressive cock. It's larger than you expected, thick and hard, probably around 7.5 to 8 inches long. The head is flushed deep, angry red, leaking pre-cum that he uses to slick the way as he begins to stroke your cocks together, the hot, velvety flesh sliding against your own in a way that makes your toes curl.

He leans in to growl in your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his hand continues to wrap around both of you, stroking and grinding the heat between you two.

"You feel that?" he murmurs, voice low and ragged. "Look at us… you're just as hard for me as I am for you."

A shaky breath leaves him, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Shit—you're driving me crazy."

Mark's stroking grew faster, more insistent, his grip tightening around both your throbbing cocks as he chased his own release. The obscene sound of skin moving against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths and desperate moans. His eyes burned with desire, remained locked onto where our cocks were slick and sticky with pre-cum, watching the show with a hungry, almost feral intensity.

Suddenly, your body tensed, back arching off the couch as a shockwave of pleasure ripped through you. You let out a soft gasp as both of your cocks pulsed and throbbed, painting both of our stomachs with streaks of sticky white cum.

Both of you were breathing hard, chests rising and falling as the haze of release clung to your skin. Your body was slack against the couch, a satisfied grin tugging at your lips as you looked down at the mess painting your stomach. You giggled—soft, breathless, a little fucked-out.

Your fingers trailed through the sticky white on your skin, lazy and dazed, until Mark's hand caught yours. He smirked, leaning over your disheveled form, and without a word, he brought your fingers to his mouth—his tongue warm and slick as he slowly licked them clean.

You stared at him with wide eyes, lips parting—until you let out another small, stunned laugh.

"That's so gay, bro."

Mark laughed low, the sound rolling deep from his chest as he leaned in closer, his hand already trailing down your thigh.

"I think it's hot as fuck," he muttered, voice husky and eyes dark.

Before you could respond, he pushed your legs apart with a firm grip, eyes locked on you like you were something he was starving for.

You watch with your heart pounding, as Mark brings his hand to his mouth. He makes a show of spitting into his palm, working the saliva between his fingers until they glisten obscenely in the low light. Your own mouth goes dry at the sight, anticipation coiling tight in your gut.

Without preamble, Mark reaches down and circles your entrance with a slick finger, teasing the sensitive flesh until it's dripping with his spit. Then, slowly, he pushes inside, his finger sinking into your tight heat and making your back arch off the couch.

"Oh fuck..." you gasp, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Mark's finger pumps in and out, curling and scissoring to open you up, to prepare you for what's to come.

"Relax for me, baby… Gonna ruin you just right." Mark murmured, voice thick and dark with desire. He works a second finger in alongside the first, then a third, stretching you wider, pushing you open until you're panting and writhing beneath him.

Mark captured your lips again, the kiss rough and messy, tongues tangling like neither of you could get enough. When he finally pulled away, a strand of spit still connected you both. His fingers slipped from your hole, leaving you empty and aching for more, and his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart, holding you wide open beneath him.

"Tell me what you want." he said, voice low and raspy, his dark eyes roaming hungrily over your flushed body. "I wanna hear you say it."

You bit your lip, your breath shaky as your eyes met his — half-lidded, burning with lust, a cocky smirk curling at the corner of your mouth.

"Shut up and fuck me, Mark." you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I'm done waiting."

He smiled and grips your hips tighter, fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass, as he lines himself up. The swollen head of his cock prods against your slick hole.

Then, with a single, powerful thrust, Mark buries himself inside you, his thick length splitting you open and stretching you wider than you've ever been before. You cry out, back arching off the couch as you're suddenly, brutally filled. Mark doesn't give you any time to adjust, setting a hard, fast pace as he starts to fuck into you with deep, claiming thrusts.

"Shit—you're tight!" Mark grunts, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful drive forward. "Gonna ruin this fucking ass. Gonna make it mine."

Your fingers scrabble at his back, nails digging into the firm skin and muscle as you try to anchor yourself against the relentless force of his thrusts. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and your desperate, wanton moans as Mark takes you with a fervor that steals your breath.

"Fuck, yes! Just like that," you cry out, your voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust that makes your eyes roll back in your head. "Harder, Mark! Fuck me harder!"

Mark snarls in response, gripping your hips even tighter as he complies with your demand. His thrusts become more forceful, more demanding, the tip of his cock kissing your prostate dead-on with every plunge forward. The pleasure is intense, bordering on pain, and you can feel your own cock throbbing and leaking against your belly, aching for his touch.

The brutal pace of Mark's thrusts rocks your entire body, each powerful drive forward making the couch creak and shake beneath you. Your stomach bulges slightly with every impact, his heavy cock pushing into your core and stirring up the contents of your belly. It's a lewd, filthy sight and you can't look away, intoxicated by the raw, animalistic way he's claiming you.

"Oh fuck, oh god!"

You threw your head back in ecstasy as Mark pounds into you. The pleasure is overwhelming, drowning out any semblance of coherent thought. Your hands scrabble at his back, trying to find purchase, to ground yourself against the tidal wave of sensation crashing over you.

You can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick cock dragging along your sensitive walls as he splits you open. It's too much, too intense, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Aah! Gonna... fuck, I can't... I'm gonna... Aah!" you stammered, your voice high and thin with impending release. Your cock throbs urgently against your belly, the head was angry red and leaking steadily.

Mark feels it too, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. "Fuck, me too!" he snarls, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising. "Gonna fucking flood this ass. Pump you so full of my cum, you'll be fucking dripping for days."

His words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You moaned loudly, your back arching as your cock pulses and jerks, painting your chest and belly with streaks of pearly white. Your ass clenches down around Mark's cock, gripping him like a velvet vice as you ride out the intense pleasure.

Mark lets out a guttural roar, slamming into you one last time as his own release takes him, flooding your insides with his hot, thick cum. You can feel each, heavy spurt of his semen painting your inner walls, marking you, claiming you as his. It's an intense, overwhelming sensation that makes your spent cock twitch weakly against your belly.

"Fuuuuck!" Mark groans, his hips giving a few more shallow thrusts as he works himself through the aftershocks of his release. "So fucking good, baby... Took my cock so well."

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions of the couch. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, his ragged breaths mingling with your own as you both struggle to catch your breath. Mark's mohawk is damp with sweat, a few strands plastered to his forehead as he pants softly against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both bask in the afterglow. Your body feels deliciously sore, aching in the best possible way, a testament to the thorough fucking you just received. Mark's softening cock is still nestled inside you, plugging you up, making you feel full and claimed.

"Mmmm... that was... intense." you murmured, nuzzling into the crook of Mark's neck. You can taste the salt on his skin, smell the musky scent of sex that clings to him.

Mark chuckles, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "Gotta be the best sex I ever had." He said, tilting his head to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It's different from the hungry, dominating kisses before - this one is softer, almost tender. "You're fucking incredible..." he murmurs against your mouth.

He rolls his hips slightly, making you both groan at the sensation. "And we're not even close to done." he smirked darkly, a wicked glint in his eye. "I'm still horny, [Y/N]... Still so fucking hard for you. I need more—need to fuck you again."

You shiver at the implication, already feeling your spent cock twitch with renewed interest. You know you should be exhausted, but the thought of more, of endless rounds of this intense, filthy pleasure, makes your heart race with anticipation

"Can't wait…" you say, voice low and breathless, lips quirking into a smirk. "Y'know? I think I need someone to break the bed with me tonight."

You pause, just for a second, softer now. "Stay with me?"

Mark didn't answer right away. Instead, he leans in, his eyes dark with heat, mouth curling into a slow, knowing smirk. Then he crashes his lips against yours again—hungry, claiming, and promising.

And just like that, the night starts all over again.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Everything changed after that night.

You and Mark weren't just two guys orbiting the same messed-up world anymore. Something shifted. Something hot and reckless, magnetic and impossible to ignore.

Mark couldn't stay away from you after that. You'd catch him watching you across the hallway, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, full of unspoken need. He started skipping classes more, just to be near you. Smoking with you behind the school. Slipping into detention even when he didn't have to, just to sit in the same room as you, leg pressed against yours under the desk like it was some secret he wanted someone to discover.

He even showed up at your band's practice, sprawled on the old couch in your little hideout like he belonged there. Head tilted back, mouthing along to the lyrics while his eyes stayed glued to your fingers that were moving across your guitar. Sometimes after those sessions, you'd barely make it to your place before he was on you—pushing you down onto some mattress, kissing you like he was starving, tearing off clothes with shaking, desperate hands.

Sometimes, he didn't wait at all.

The boys' bathroom, after the third period—he'd lock the door and shove you up against the cold tiles, hands already down your pants. Or behind the gym, underneath the afternoon sun, with your back against the bricks, with his breath hot against your skin while he fucked you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

It wasn't just sex.

It was desperation.

It was an escape.

It was an addiction neither of you wanted to shake.

And Eve?

You never talked about her. You didn't have to.

She was still there—still his girlfriend, still part of the picture—but when you were around, she barely existed. Mark would ignore her texts while he was with you, glance past her in the halls like she was a stranger.

She didn't exist in those stolen moments when you were on your knees for him, lips wrapped around his cock while he groaned your name and tugged your hair like he'd lose his mind if he let go. She didn't exist when he whispered filth into your ear while you were bent over the school's bathroom sink, struggling to stay quiet. She didn't exist in the heat between your bodies when he panted against your neck, saying how tight, and how perfect you were.

And the scariest part?

You loved it.

Mark had changed. And people noticed.

He was sharper now. Wilder. That brooding, broken shell he once carried cracked wide open, revealing someone louder, cockier, violent—someone who didn't take shit from anyone. If someone even looked at you too long, Mark was already in their faces, eyes sharp and voice dripping venom—ready to throw punches. Like he was ready to burn everything down for you.

And then there were the piercings.

The ones you'd draw in your sketchbook couple of months ago.

And fuck—he looked even hotter than you imagined.

He wore it for you.

He was yours.

And in his own twisted, violent way…

you were his too.

With you, he wasn't numb. He was alive. You brought something out in him no one else could. He smiled more. Laughed harder. Got more reckless, more dangerous, but honest. He stopped hiding. He'd kiss you in the stairwell like he didn't care about hiding anymore. He'd shove a guy for looking at you wrong in the cafeteria. He'd lock eyes with you in a crowd like it didn't matter who was watching—because you were the only thing that mattered.

Mark never said much, not out loud. He didn't talk about how he felt or what any of this meant. He didn't put names to things, didn't label you, didn't explain the way his eyes always found you in a room like you were gravity and he was just trying not to fall apart.

But the way he looked at you?

It said everything.

It was in the heat behind his stare, the way his jaw would clench when someone stood too close to you, the way his hand always found yours when no one was watching. You could feel it in the way he kissed you—rough, deep, like he was trying to crawl inside your skin and stay there. Like he didn't know how to be gentle with something he wanted this much.

You had him. Fully, completely, undeniably.

And he had you, just as wrecked.

He was still angry. Still dragging chains from the past he never talked about. Still haunted by things you could only guess at when you caught glimpses of that hollow look in his eyes after sex, like he'd been somewhere else for a second and had to claw his way back.

But with you, something changed.

He let his guard down, if only in stolen moments. You saw the softness beneath the sharp edges—the boy who wanted to be touched, wanted to be seen, but didn’t know how to ask for it.

With you, he wasn't just surviving.

He was living.

And yeah, maybe the whole thing was messy. Maybe it was twisted and wrong and so far past the line of what should've been. But you didn't care.

Because in the end, no matter how fucked up it all was…

you wouldn't trade him for anything.

Not the calm, clean version of love people wrote songs about.

Not the easy kind of boy who smiled politely and stayed in the lines.

You wanted him.

Just like this.

Wild. Possessive. A little broken.

And entirely yours.

"I'm gonna kill you, Mark." you wheezed, body aching as you lay tangled in your sheets—sweaty, sore, absolutely wrecked. "I told you me and the gang were rioting tonight."

You turned your head, glaring at him with zero energy behind it. "Now I can't even stand without my knees shaking, dumbass."

Mark was laid out next to you, with a cocky grin on his lips, eyes still heavy-lidded from the high of it all. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, bruises blooming along his neck, piercings glinting in the low light. He looked like sin personified—sweaty, smug, and so damn pleased with himself.

He let out a short laugh, deep and careless, before blowing smoke toward the ceiling like he didn't just rearrange your guts.

"That's on you for moaning like that." he said, voice rough and dripping arrogance. "You think I was gonna stop when you kept saying my name like a damn prayer?"

“You're an asshole." you muttered, dragging a pillow over your face.

He just grinned wider, sitting up slightly to watch you suffer with a predator's calm. "You love it."

You peeked out from the pillow, watching as he tilted his head back and ran a hand through his mohawk, those wild curls still clinging to his forehead. His body was littered with old scars and fresh scratches—your scratches. He looked like a goddamn menace, and he knew it.

"Gotta admit." he said, eyes drifting over your naked, sore body like he hadn't already wrecked you twice, "You limping into that riot later? Kinda hot."

Mark chuckled, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to your jaw, then tracing the angry red mark he’d left on your neck with far too much pride. "You know…" he drawled, lips brushing against your skin, "If you're going out... maybe I should tag along."

You turned to squint at him. "For what? To start more chaos?"

His grin sharpened. "No, babe. I was thinking I could fuck you behind a dumpster while Molotovs fly in the background."

You blinked. "You're kidding."

He didn't even hesitate. "I'm not. That'd be so hot. Firelight on your face, sirens in the distance, you begging for me to go harder while the city burns a little."

"God, you're deranged."

"And yet," he smirked, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, "you're still gonna let me come."

You snorted, tossing a pillow at his chest. "You're freaky as hell, man."

He caught it with ease, tossing it aside before climbing over you again, voice low and rough by your ear. "Say the word, and I'll make sure you really can't walk straight into that riot."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ

author's note: listening to Hamilton while writing this is insane :0

#𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒕🐈‍⬛𖹭.ᐟ #mohawk mark #mohawk invincible #mohawk mark x reader #invincible variants #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #invincible fanfic #invincible #invincible x reader #invincible x male reader #invincible smut #this took so damn long to finish #my phone is burning

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