#we're heading to finals at work and it's been busy. and rough.

[lalo0]

INSIDE AESPA EP. 3┃ Still Think I’m Soft?

Male reader x Ningning Word count: 6.8k Tags: facefucking, anal, squirting, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing PART 1 PART 2

She didn’t slam the door.

That would’ve been easier.

Karina just stood there. Her hand still on the knob. Eyes on me.

Not on Giselle. Not the bed. Not the scattered clothes or the marks still cooling on her skin.

Me.

I’d never been looked at like that. Not with disgust. Not even with shock.

Just... like she was measuring my worth.

Like she was pulling up a chair in her mind and watching me bleed without touching the knife.

Giselle pulled the sheet tighter around herself. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Her face was flushed, lashes damp, mouth still kiss-bitten. She looked like what she was — someone who’d just been fucked hard and loved every second of it.

And now she was trying to hide it.

Karina’s gaze didn’t move.

I sat there. Half-covered. My breath still uneven. Muscles tensed in places I hadn’t known were still working. My shirt was somewhere on the floor. My jeans, still open. The air was warm, but I felt cold.

“Karina,” Giselle finally said, voice soft. Unsteady. “This isn’t— I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

No answer.

From behind her, I heard another voice. Softer. Curious.

“Is everything okay?”

Another followed. Lighter, with a spark.

Karina stepped forward slightly. Just enough for the other two girls to peer inside.

I didn’t know their names.

But I knew when people were sizing me up.

One of them let out a low whistle. “Huh.”

The other didn’t say anything.

Karina’s voice was level.

She didn’t yell.

Didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t call security.

Just looked at me like I already didn’t belong here.

And said: "You need to leave."

I looked at Giselle.

She was already standing. Bare feet on the floor. Sheet wrapped around her like a robe, but it couldn’t hide the tension in her shoulders. Or the bruises shaped like fingerprints on her thighs.

“No,” she said. “He’s staying.”

Karina didn’t blink.

“Giselle.”

“I invited him.”

Silence.

The girl who whistled leaned against the doorframe like this was all a performance. The other just watched, unreadable.

Karina’s voice dropped half a degree. "We're not just talking about you room, Giselle. We're talking about this house. About all of us. And you brought a stranger into it like it didn't mean anything."

Giselle’s jaw clenched. “I’m not ashamed of this.”

“Doesn’t mean it was smart.”

Karina didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t scold.

She didn’t have to.

It was in the way she looked at Giselle — like she expected better.

And in the way she looked at me — like I had no business being there.

This wasn’t about sex.

It was about respect.

About the lines you don’t cross when you’re part of something bigger than yourself.

No one moved at first.

Not Karina. Not the two girls flanking her. Not even Giselle, who stood like she was bracing for a slap that hadn’t landed yet.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ashamed.

The silence made me feel like I should be.

Karina turned without another word, the door swinging wider as she walked out. The girl who’d whistled followed a beat later, still silent but smirking, like she was filing the whole thing away for later.

The last one lingered.

She looked at me — not like Karina had, not like I was a stain on the rug — but like she was curious. Her head tilted slightly, just enough to let a piece of her hair fall into her eye. She didn’t move it. She didn’t say a word.

And then she left too.

The door stayed open.

I sat there, bare-chested on the bed, trying to remember how to breathe.

Giselle was already moving — collecting my shirt from the floor, tossing it onto the bed like it was a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she said, without looking at me.

Her voice was sharp. Not angry. Just embarrassed — not at me, but because of the situation.

“You don’t have to be,” I said.

She pulled a hoodie from the back of a chair and tugged it on. Her hair was a mess. Her cheeks still blotchy with sex and tension. Faint bruises were already blooming on her thighs — places I’d gripped too hard, places she hadn’t told me to stop.

She looked like someone who wanted to be anywhere else but here.

I slipped my shirt over my head and stood, grabbing my jeans off the edge of the bed.

“Maybe I should go.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“No.” 

Then softer, almost like she regretted how fast that came out. 

“I mean… unless you want to.”

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers fumbled with the button on my jeans.

There was a sound down the hall — a door closing. Then another. The house had that strange, eerie quiet big places always had when something loud had just happened.

Giselle exhaled through her nose, pacing. “She wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“I figured.”

She gave a hollow little laugh. “Of course she’s early. Karina’s always early.”

I sat back on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, waiting for the panic or guilt or even anger to kick in. Nothing did.

“You in trouble?”

“With her?” Giselle asked. “No. Not really.”

She paused.

“But if she decides to make it a problem... I’ll know.”

“You regret it?”

She didn’t answer right away.

She was sitting beside me — not touching, but close enough that it felt like she wanted to.

The hoodie she threw on hung off one shoulder, and her hands were curled around the edge of the mattress like she needed to grip something solid.

Then: “No. Not even a little.”

She said it too fast. Like she wanted it out of her mouth before she could change her mind.

I nodded slowly. “Good.”

She glanced at me. “You?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I met her eyes. “You want me to lie?”

She smiled. Not her flashy stage smile — the real one. Small, unguarded, like I’d caught her off balance and she didn’t hate the feeling.

“That’s the part I wasn’t ready for,” she said softly. “You… not treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“You’re not.”

“Some people act like I am. Like if they say the wrong thing, I’ll cry or call my manager.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Only if I need to.”

That got a laugh out of me.

She bumped her shoulder against mine.

I let it linger.

We sat there for a while, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath. Like the room itself knew something had shifted and didn’t want to jinx it.

Her hand slid across the blanket and brushed mine.

I took it.

Her fingers curled around mine like they’d been waiting for permission.

“I don’t do this,” she said.

“Invite guys into your room?”

“Let them stay.”

I looked at her profile — the way lips compressed when she was unsure, how her gaze kept dancing around the room like it was safer to look anywhere but at me.

“Do you want me to go?”

She hesitated.

“No,” she said. Then, quieter: “But maybe you should.”

“Because of Karina?”

“Because of all of it.”

She looked at me then — really looked — and I saw it: not fear. Not shame. Just the recognition that something real had happened. And real things had a way of changing everything around them.

“This wasn’t how you planned it, was it?”

She looked down. Her fingers picked at the edge of the sheet.

“No. Not really.”

“You mean, it was supposed to be casual.”

“Controlled,” she added.

“You mean you were supposed to be in control.”

She didn’t argue.

I didn’t leave right away.

I thought I would. Get dressed, find the door, disappear before anyone changes their mind.

But I didn’t.

We sat there a few more minutes — her with her legs drawn up and her hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, me with my elbows on my knees, trying not to think too hard about what came next.

Eventually she stood and stretched, the fabric of her hoodie riding up just enough to tease. She caught me looking and didn’t hide her smirk.

“I should get dressed for real,” she said.

I nodded and stood, brushing off my jeans.

“I’ll give you a minute.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched me head toward the door like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop me.

Out in the hallway, it was darker. Quiet.

I didn’t get two steps before someone was there.

Shorter than me. Wide eyes. Long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail and a silk robe she hadn’t bothered to tie properly.

She was leaning against the wall across from Giselle’s door, arms folded, like she’d been waiting.

We locked eyes.

She didn’t look surprised to see me.

“Hey,” she said, like we were old friends who’d just run into each other in line at the grocery store.

“Hey,” I replied, slower.

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not very good at sneaking out.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

That got a little grin. “Bold.”

I nodded toward the far end of the hall. “You standing guard?”

“I’m standing.”

“Right.”

We both looked at each other for a second too long.

Then she pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice lower now, “I don’t think you should feel bad.”

“About what?”

“Whatever happened in there.” She glanced toward Giselle’s door. “She’s not stupid. And she doesn’t usually let people in like that.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

Ningning gave a little shrug. “Well. You got past the front gate. That’s something.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said nothing.

She stopped in front of me. Not close enough to crowd me. Just close enough to see her eyes weren’t as playful as her tone had been.

“You have a name?” she asked.

“Mylo.”

Her lips curved just slightly. “I’m Ningning.”

I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

She leaned in — not to whisper, just to keep the moment between us.

“You’re already causing trouble,” she said. “Might as well enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

Then she walked past me, back toward her room, not looking back.

The hallway felt colder after she walked away.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the space she left behind. Then I turned, walked back to Giselle’s door, and knocked lightly before pushing it open.

She was sitting on the bed with her legs folded under her, now in a fresh pair of loose shorts and a tank top. Hair combed, skin scrubbed, no makeup — just her. The kind of raw, pretty that didn’t need effort.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, but something in her expression told me she’d been thinking too much.

“I ran into Ningning.”

Her mouth twitched. “Let me guess. She flirted with you.”

“Little bit.”

“She’s shameless.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “Clearly.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then Giselle looked up, hesitant. “You’ll text me?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She walked me to the door, barefoot. No words this time. Just stood in front of me, fingers playing with the edge of her shirt.

“I liked tonight,” she said.

“Me too.”

Her eyes flicked to my mouth. “Don’t ruin it.”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She leaned in and kissed me. Quick. Soft. Final.

Then she nodded toward the hallway. “Guest room’s second door on the left.”

I smiled. “So I’m not kicked out after all.”

“Not yet.”

She opened the door.

The sheets were too clean.

That was the first thing I noticed when I lay down. Everything smelled like detergent and linen spray and something vaguely floral — nothing human. No warmth. No breath. Just a pristine bed in a house too big for comfort.

I lay there with one arm behind my head, eyes on the ceiling, not really thinking. Or maybe thinking too much. Giselle’s kiss still sat at the edge of my mouth. The way she looked at me — not like an idol, not like someone who knew how to pose for cameras — it stuck.

I heard footsteps.

Soft, then softer. Slowed just before my door.

I didn’t move. I waited.

Nothing.

Then another step — this time toward the guest bathroom. A creak. Running water. Silence.

The door across the hall clicked.

I closed my eyes.

I should’ve stayed in bed. Should’ve slept. Should’ve done anything but what I did.

But I got up.

I cracked the door open just as her light went on — a soft gold spill from the room across the hall. Her door wasn’t shut. Not fully.

And I swear I saw her silhouette pause at the mirror. Then her eyes flicked toward me.

And then?

She walked out of sight.

Leaving the door half open.

I didn’t knock.

I told myself I would. Told myself I’d stay on my side of the hallway, be the respectful guy, the guest with boundaries. But the door was cracked just enough — just wide enough to whisper you can instead of you shouldn’t.

And I stepped inside.

The room was warmer than mine. Not just physically. It had that lived-in feel — cluttered vanity, a hoodie draped over the desk chair, perfume bottles scattered like forgotten glass chess pieces. Her phone was face down, glowing faintly. The music was low, some soft synth line playing under a steady pulse. And Ningning?

She was brushing her hair.

Slow, methodical strokes. Like it wasn’t about untangling anything. Like it was a ritual.

She caught my reflection before I said anything.

“I was wondering how long you’d wait.”

“I wasn’t—”

She looked at me through the mirror. “Yes, you were.”

I didn’t argue.

She kept brushing. “You sleep okay in the showroom guest suite?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

Ningning set the brush down and turned on the stool, crossing one leg over the other. Her robe had slid halfway down one shoulder. Not by accident.

“You don’t strike me as the polite house guest type.”

I shrugged. “You left your door open.”

“Did I?”

She stood slowly and padded toward me barefoot, the hem of her silk robe swaying just above her knees. It wasn’t tied shut. Just overlapping at the front, loosely. One wrong movement and it’d fall open.

I didn’t look away.

She stopped in front of me. Close. Not touching. Just hovering at that delicious, unbearable distance.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“You’re not.”

That got a smile. “Fair.”

I waited. I didn’t know what for.

She moved first. Her fingers brushed the hem of my shirt, light and deliberate.

“You already broke one rule tonight,” she murmured. “Might as well break a few more.”

I caught her wrist gently. Not to stop her. Just to slow it down.

“This isn’t a game,” I said.

Her eyebrow arched, amused. “Sure it is.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” Her hand twisted in my grip, fingertips sliding up my forearm. “That’s why it’s fun.”

Her other hand came up, palm flat on my chest. She didn’t push. Just let it rest there.

“You’re not mine,” she said, low. “I know that.”

“I didn’t say—”

“But you’re not hers, either.”

I hesitated.

“That’s what makes this okay,” she added, stepping even closer, pressing her body to mine. “We’re not breaking anything. We’re just… seeing what fits.”

Her lips brushed my jaw — a test, not a kiss. Her breath smelled faintly like green tea and strawberries.

“Still thinking?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

She pulled back, just a little, and looked up at me. “You can leave. Right now. No hard feelings.”

I didn’t move.

“Or,” she said, fingers sliding down the front of my shirt, “you can stop pretending you don’t want this.”

I kissed her.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was the kind of kiss that says I’ve already made my decision. She tasted exactly like she smelled — bright and sweet with something darker underneath, something playful, biting.

Her arms slid around my neck. Mine found her waist. The robe shifted.

“I thought you were the quiet one,” she breathed between kisses.

“Only when I’m not being kissed like that.”

She laughed, and it turned into a moan as I sucked lightly on her lower lip.

Then she pulled back, just a step. Enough to look me over.

“Take off your shirt.”

I did.

She let her eyes roam, open and slow, not shy about it. She stepped forward again and ran her fingers across my chest, down my stomach. Nails dragging. Barely.

“Don’t get shy now,” she teased.

“I’m not the shy one.”

“Oh? You think I’m shy?”

I gave her a look.

Ningning stepped back and shrugged off her robe in one fluid motion. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Not lingerie. Not a bra. Not even a pair of shorts.

Just skin and heat and that cocky little smirk she wore like armor.

“Well,” she said. “Now you know I’m not.”

I stared for a second too long. She knew I would. Her body was smaller than Giselle’s, but just as dangerous — smooth lines, delicate curves, a kind of quiet athleticism that said she could climb you like a rope and make you thank her for it.

She climbed onto the bed without a word.

Then looked back at me, on her knees, hair falling over one shoulder, mouth parted.

“Your turn.”

I stood at the edge, shirt off, hard as hell, pulse drumming behind my ears. She looked at me with her legs folded underneath her, hair slipping down one shoulder. Her nipples were already hard, rising and falling with her breath like she was trying not to pant.

“You're gonna stand there and admire me,” she said, licking her lower lip, “or are you gonna do something?”

I didn’t answer.

I crawled onto the bed.

She gasped when I grabbed her hips and pulled her forward in one clean motion, forcing her to lie back. Her head landed on a pillow, eyes wide but hungry. My mouth met hers hard — no teasing, no soft warm-up. Tongues colliding. Teeth scraping. Her moan vibrated against my lips as my hand slid between her thighs and pressed.

“F—fuck—yes,” she breathed, hips lifting into my palm.

Wet didn’t even begin to cover it. She was soaked. Dripping. Her legs opened wider without me asking, one hand gripping the sheets like she needed something to anchor her.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” I said into her mouth.

She nodded fast, whining a little. “Yes. Yes. God, yes.”

My fingers slid through her folds, and she choked out a moan, already squirming.

“You like it messy?”

She didn’t answer — just bucked her hips again.

I kissed her neck, dragging my teeth along her collarbone, and pressed one finger inside her pussy. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Then—

“Aghh—ahh! F-fuck, yes…”

I pumped once, twice, watching her unravel with just my hand. Her hips rolled like she couldn’t decide if she wanted more or was already overwhelmed.

“Another,” she gasped. “Give me another—fuck—yes—there—right there—”

I added a second finger and curled them just right. Her back arched. Her thighs trembled.

She reached for me blindly, nails scratching down my back, pulling me close enough that her breath hit my cheek.

“I want your cock so bad—please, please—just—God—”

I pulled my hand away.

“No—!”

She whined, actual frustration in her voice.

“I didn’t say stop…”

“You didn’t say please.”

“I did—!” she gasped. “Twice—fuck—please, please—”

I reached down and grabbed a pair of panties from the floor. Light blue, still warm, still damp. I balled them up and brought them to her mouth.

“Too loud,” I said.

Her eyes widened, then darkened.

And she opened her mouth.

I stuffed the panties in slowly. She moaned behind the gag, lips closing over the fabric as her hips rolled against the air, searching.

“Good girl,” I said, kissing her jaw. “You’re gonna stay quiet now.”

She nodded — barely — and I could see her trying to breathe through her nose, flushed from the buildup, thighs squeezing together.

I pulled back just enough to admire the view.

Ningning. Spread open. Gagged with her own panties. Dripping wet and twitching under me like she was wired to explode.

“You ready for it?”

She moaned against the gag. Nodded hard.

“Don’t cum until I tell you.”

Her eyes rolled.

And then I slid down the bed, hands pushing her legs apart, breath brushing her soaked cunt — tongue about to meet heat.

I didn’t ease into it.

The second my tongue met her, she convulsed — thighs twitching, toes curling, a desperate muffled moan vibrating behind the panties stuffed in her mouth. I flattened my tongue against her clit and dragged it slow, deliberate, from bottom to top. She clenched hard.

Her taste was perfect. Salty-sweet, slick, fever-hot. Her pussy was already swollen, soaked, begging. And I hadn’t even used my fingers again yet.

She whimpered behind the gag — soft, choked, and feral.

I reached up and pressed a hand flat against her stomach, holding her down as she tried to grind against my mouth. Her hips had no rhythm now — just jerks of raw need. Her body couldn’t decide if it was trying to run or pull me deeper.

She tried to say something behind the gag. Couldn’t. Just a desperate, high-pitched moan.

I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, then flicked harder — faster. I didn’t stop. I didn’t let up. She was panting through her nose like she couldn’t take it.

Then she started crying — not sobbing, not pain. Just overstimulated tears that spilled sideways from the corners of her eyes.

Her whole body writhed.

She was right on the edge.

And I didn’t stop.

I locked my arms under her thighs and kept eating. Tongue lapping, lips sucking, eyes locked on the way her stomach kept twitching under me. Her muffled voice was wrecked now — whines and moans bleeding together, hands clawing the sheets, one leg jerking involuntarily every time I sucked hard.

She tried to shake her head. I looked up.

Her eyes were wide. She was trying to tell me something.

I reached up, pulled the gag gently from her mouth.

She gasped the second it came out, chest heaving.

“C-Can I cum?” she begged. “Please, please—Mylo, fuck—please let me—”

Her voice broke.

I growled against her pussy, then nodded once.

“Do it.”

She shattered.

Her scream ripped from her throat as her thighs locked around my head. Her back arched clear off the bed, hips bucking like she was being electrocuted. Her pussy clenched and throbbed, gushing against my tongue — so wet I could feel it drip down my chin. Her hands tangled in my hair like she couldn’t tell if she was trying to pull me off or keep me there forever.

“AHH—ahh—fuck, fuck, I’m cumming—!”

I didn’t stop.

I kept licking. Slower. Then faster again.

Her scream cut off into choked moans — then laughter, then moaning again, her voice completely undone.

“Ohmygod—oh fuck—stop, I—I can’t—”

I didn’t stop.

She started shaking.

Her hips lifted — then collapsed — then lifted again.

“No—no—fuck—too much, too much—!”

Her body betrayed her. Another orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere — a second wave she didn’t see coming.

She sobbed through it.

And I kept going.

I pulled back only when she physically tried to crawl away from me — legs twitching, voice wrecked, pussy throbbing and red and soaked.

I crawled up her body, licking my lips.

She was breathless.

Hair tangled. Face flushed. Drool at the corner of her mouth. Her nipples were stiff, her chest heaving, and her thighs still trembled.

“Y-You’re a fucking psycho,” she whispered, half-laughing.

I smiled.

“You’re not done.”

She turned her head slowly. Met my eyes.

Then smirked.

“No,” she said. “You’re not done.”

She pulled one leg up, bent at the knee. Her fingers slid behind her, teasing herself — then stopping just long enough to say:

“Do me here.”

I blinked.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I want you in my ass.”

I didn’t move.

“I want to feel all of you,” she whispered. “Stretch me out. Use me. Don’t be gentle.”

Then she grabbed her panties from where they were still damp on the sheets.

Smiling, breathless, glowing.

“I’ll need these.”

She said it with a smirk, voice rough and breathless, holding out her damp panties like she was giving me a challenge. Her legs were still trembling, her chest flushed, lips parted with that smug, post-orgasm haze painted all over her.

I took them from her hand.

But instead of turning around for me — instead of staying soft, pliant, desperate — she rolled onto her side and gave me a look. A raised brow. That same spark from earlier, only sharper now. Hungrier. Dirtier.

“You’ve got no idea what to do with me, do you?”

I blinked once.

She tilted her head, dragging her nails across her thigh, slow and deliberate.

“That little tongue act? Cute. Real cute. And maybe that sweet-boy edge works on Giselle, but me?” She ran her fingers between her legs, deliberately collecting the slick I’d left there, then licked them clean while holding eye contact. “I need more than a guy who thinks making me cum twice is enough.”

I didn’t speak.

“Thought you were dangerous,” she added, voice soft and mocking. “Right now, I feel like I should pat your head and call you adorable.”

That did it.

I grabbed her by the hips and yanked her hard, dragging her onto her stomach. She yelped, legs kicking instinctively, but she didn’t resist — not really. Not when I shoved her thighs apart. Not when I spread her ass and let that second of silence stretch.

She was soaked, still twitching. Her cunt glistened. Her asshole clenched when the air hit it.

“You sure you want this?” I asked low, voice near her ear as I leaned over her.

She grinned into the sheets.

“Break me.”

I poured lube straight down the middle of her, cool and slick. She gasped, just once, and then pressed her hips back against my hand. Shameless. Eager.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” I muttered, lining up behind her.

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes gleaming.

“I’m not a good girl.”

I shoved the panties between her lips.

“Then shut up and take it.”

She groaned — deep, needy — and her hips twitched the moment the head of my cock touched her. I pushed forward slowly at first, watching her face, her body, the little flinch of resistance.

And then I didn’t wait.

I pushed all the way in.

Her scream was muffled by her own panties, loud and broken. Her hands clawed at the sheets, body bucking underneath me as I buried myself inside her tight, tight ass.

“Ffff—fuck—mmmph—!”

I stayed deep for a second, feeling the way she clenched around me. Then I pulled back — almost all the way — and slammed into her again.

Her body jolted.

Again.

And again.

Harder. Rougher. Her ass rippled with every thrust, every slap of skin echoing through the room. She moaned into the gag, messy and half-strangled, drooling now, her face wrecked and twitching.

She tried to push back against me — match my pace — but I grabbed her wrists, pinned them to the bed above her head, and really started to fuck her.

Brutal.

No rhythm, no mercy. Just sound. Just flesh.

She couldn’t form words anymore.

Only screams.

Only sobs.

Her legs started to give out. Her face smashed into the pillow. Her body trembled violently with every thrust. But I didn’t stop.

I was going to ruin her like she’d fucking asked.

And she was loving every second of it.

Half-screaming into the panties stuffed in her mouth, drool running down her chin, her entire body trembling under me like every nerve had been lit up and exposed. Her wrists strained against my grip, but not to escape — just reacting, raw and helpless, twitching under the weight of every thrust.

Her ass was red now, every slap echoing. My cock slammed into her with no softness left, just wet heat, friction, and tight, relentless pressure. I was buried to the hilt every time. She took it. Every inch. Every time.

And she didn’t stop moaning.

Not once.

She was gasping around the gag like she needed air between sobs, but her hips still pushed back on instinct. Her cunt was soaked — dripping onto the sheets — and every time I bottomed out, her body clenched again like she was trying to milk me from both ends.

She was shaking violently.

Her legs twitched. Her toes curled. Her arms gave out and her face dropped to the pillow. Her back arched like she was being held in place by invisible strings.

Still, I didn’t stop.

I grunted as I leaned forward, yanked the panties from her mouth, and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up.

“You still think I’m soft?”

She tried to speak. Nothing came out but a broken sound — part laugh, part sob.

I slowed down just enough to let her catch one word.

“More.”

It wasn’t even a whisper. It was a prayer.

I growled and pulled out.

She collapsed face-first, moaning when I let go of her wrists. Her whole body quivered. Her ass stayed high, begging. Her pussy was glistening and wide open, twitching like it hadn’t been touched in hours, even though it had just been flooded with her own juices and my cock rubbing past it.

I pushed her flat onto her back. She groaned — too limp to help me move her, but not resisting. I kissed her once — slow, rough — and grabbed her thighs.

“You want more?”

She nodded weakly. Then smirked.

“Don’t slow down now.”

Her voice was wrecked, hoarse, scratchy with use — but that smile. That cocky little curl.

She wasn’t broken.

Not yet.

I caught the glint of something on the nightstand drawer- a small toy, black and sleek, the switch already worn from use.

I spread her legs, grabbed the vibrator on the drawer and turned it on. The hum was low. She flinched when I pressed it to her clit.

“No—no—fuck—” she gasped, laughing like she couldn’t believe it. “Mylo—Jesus—oh my God—”

She screamed.

There wasn’t a better word for it. Just a ragged, full-body cry as her pussy clenched around me again — hotter, wetter, tighter than before. Her legs locked around my waist and her nails clawed my back, but I didn’t stop moving.

“You’re insane—ahh! Fuck, I’m gonna cum—don’t—don’t—don’t stop—”

I didn’t.

She came again.

Hard.

Her body jerked. Her voice cracked. Her whole core clenched like she was trying to push me out and pull me deeper all at once.

I felt her break.

Her arms went limp. Her hands slapped against the mattress. Her eyes rolled back for half a second, and a drool thread slipped from her open mouth.

She moaned like she couldn’t help it.

Again. And again.

And then?

She laughed.

This breathless, dizzy little laugh.

“Still think I can’t take it?” she choked out.

I slowed.

Then pulled out.

She blinked — dazed.

“What—?”

I grabbed her by the jaw. Lifted her chin. My cock pressed against her lips.

“Open.”

She blinked again.

Then smiled — half-wrecked, all heat.

Her mouth opened slowly, still catching her breath, eyes half-lidded and lips glistening from moans and drool. I gripped my cock at the base, slid the tip across her bottom lip, and watched her tongue dart out like instinct.

She wasn’t broken.

She was starving.

I didn’t slide it in gently.

I pushed past her lips, past her tongue, to the back of her throat.

She choked once — a reflex — but didn’t pull away. She looked up at me with tears brimming, gagging around the thickness like it was nothing new.

I groaned. “That’s it.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, both hands now, and started thrusting — short, controlled strokes at first, then deeper. Sloppier.

Her moans vibrated around me, low and wet, her jaw flexing as her spit ran down my length. Her eyes didn’t close. She stared up at me while I used her mouth like it belonged to me.

Then I said it:

“Touch yourself.”

Her brows twitched. Her hands slid down.

“Yeah,” I growled. “Rub that ruined little pussy while I fuck your throat.”

She obeyed.

I felt it before I saw it — her body shifting slightly, hips squirming, legs twitching. Then her moan turned desperate. Higher. Faster.

“Good girl,” I muttered.

Her eyes rolled back as I pushed deeper, forcing her nose to my skin. She gagged, eyes fluttering, and I pulled back just enough to let her breathe before I rammed in again.

Again.

And again.

Her spit coated my shaft, dripping down her chin, mixing with the mess already painting her face. Her fingers moved faster between her legs now — wild and sloppy — and every time I bottomed out in her mouth, her thighs flexed.

“You want to cum?” I asked, hips slamming forward again. “Make yourself cum. I want to feel you fall apart while you choke on me.”

She whimpered, barely audible, her throat full.

I didn’t stop.

Her nails dug into her thighs. Her legs trembled. Her moans grew frantic, desperate little gulps of air between strokes. Her whole body jerked when I stayed deep just a second longer.

Then she started to twitch.

Her thighs clenched.

Her pussy clenched around her fingers.

She was cumming.

Sobbing and choking around my cock, her whole body writhing as she came for the fourth — fifth? — time tonight. Her scream was trapped inside me. Her lips sealed around the base. Her eyes rolled back.

I was close.

I gripped her hair tight and let go — thrusting deep, staying there.

“Fuck—take it—take all of it—”

I came hard.

Down her throat.

Hot, thick, pulse after pulse, and she took it — moaning as I filled her, drool and cum leaking from the corners of her mouth, her body still twitching, her hand still working her pussy like she couldn’t stop.

When I pulled out, she gasped once — then let her tongue loll out, panting, face soaked and wrecked.

I dropped to my knees and kissed her.

Hard.

Tasting myself. Tasting her. She moaned into my mouth, and I felt her legs give out.

We sank down together — breathless and shaking, sprawled across the sweat-damp sheets, skin to skin and fucked clean out of words.

And just before she drifted off — eyes fluttering shut — she mumbled it.

“Mylo…”

Then, softer.

“Goddamn.”

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I woke up to her laughing.

Not loud. Just this low, breathy giggle, like she was trying not to move too much but couldn’t help herself.

She was lying sideways across the bed, one leg thrown over mine, face buried in a pillow, bare ass peeking from under a sheet. Her hair was tangled, lips shiny and pink, and when I shifted, she blinked slowly like she’d forgotten I was real.

“That was you,” she murmured. “Huh?”

I rubbed my eyes. “You're just figuring that out?”

“No,” she said, yawning. “Just processing.”

She flopped back beside me, arm stretching over her head.

“Damn,” she whispered. “I thought I was gonna break you.”

I snorted. “You tried.”

“I succeeded.” She poked me in the ribs. “You were shaking at one point.”

“You were sobbing.”

“You gagged me!” she laughed.

“You handed me the gag.”

She smiled, smug and satisfied. “I know. And I stand by that decision.”

The room was quiet again for a beat. She curled up beside me, head nudging into the crook of my shoulder, like it was a habit she hadn’t realized she had.

I ran my fingers slowly down her back. She hummed at the touch.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Better than okay,” she said. “Just… quiet.”

Her hand moved to my chest, resting flat.

“People always think I’m loud,” she said. “Like, nonstop. Funny. Bubbly. That’s what they want, you know? The energy.”

I stayed quiet.

“But I like quiet, too,” she added. “Like now. After.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

She looked up at me. “Do you always fuck people like that?”

“Like what?”

She laughed again. “Like you’re trying to prove a point.”

I didn’t answer.

She traced slow circles on my chest.

“I liked it,” she said. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not in trouble.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Mmhm.”

Another beat.

“Do you think Karina heard anything?”

I blinked. “I—what?”

“I mean, her room’s down the hall.” She stretched her arms above her head. “And I was loud.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“She’ll pretend she didn’t. But she’s definitely going to say something passive-aggressive at breakfast.”

I groaned and dragged a pillow over my face. Ningning cackled.

“She’ll be fine,” she said. “Eventually.”

“Right. Because she loves me.”

“No. She doesn’t.” Ningning rolled onto her side. “But that’s not your fault.”

I peeked at her under the pillow.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Ningning said, tone softer now. “She has to be the leader, the oldest, the one who keeps it all together.”

She paused.

“People forget that it takes a toll.”

I stayed quiet. Let her keep going.

“She’s always expected to protect everyone. Keep us moving. Carry the image, the team, the weight. But nobody ever really stops to think…”

She trailed off.

“To think what?” I asked.

Ningning’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling.

“Who protects her?”

It sat heavy and quiet in the room, louder than her laughter, more grounded than her teasing.

After a moment, she sighed, shifting so her cheek rested on my chest again.

“You should go soon,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I said.

Neither of us moved.

I dressed quietly.

Ningning didn’t move much — just curled deeper into the mess of blankets, her breath soft and even, one arm tucked under her head like she’d melted into the bed. She was flushed, glowing, hair fanned out on the pillow like the aftermath of a storm.

For a second, I didn’t want to leave.

I pulled my shirt over my head and watched her shift slightly, murmuring something incomprehensible. Her lips parted, then closed again.

I grabbed my jeans. Shoes in hand.

Careful.

The hallway outside was dim, washed in low amber light from the sconces. Quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful — the kind that felt like it was watching.

I crept down the hall, heart beating faster than I wanted it to. Not fear, exactly. Just awareness. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this hallway, not on this floor, not in this part of the story.

I paused at the top of the stairs.

The house was beautiful in the dark. Expensive without being loud. Sculpted. Stylish. But sterile, too. Like every piece had been approved by a manager and a stylist before it earned a place on the shelf.

Like nothing here belonged to them. Not really.

I started down.

Halfway to the landing, my phone buzzed.

I flinched. Fumbled it from my pocket.

Giselle.

A text.

The last thing she’d sent: "Tell me if you leave?”

I stared at it.

Then I looked away.

I kept moving.

The front door came into view. I reached for the handle — paused when I caught my reflection in the glass.

Shirt rumpled. Hair a mess. Lips swollen. Scratches across my neck.

No hiding what happened.

The guilt wasn’t sharp. Not a stab. Just a slow curl in my chest. A twist.

Giselle and I weren’t anything. No promises. No label. But there had been… something.

Connection.

I hadn’t forgotten it.

I just hadn’t known what to do with it.

I stepped outside.

Cool air hit my face. Night still hanging low. The stars blurred into the city haze and the wind carried just a hint of jasmine from the garden. I breathed it in and closed the door gently behind me.

The driveway was empty. The gates were still open.

I walked.

No noise. No music. Just the sound of my shoes on pavement and the thoughts I didn’t want to hold onto:

Giselle’s hand in mine. Her voice. Her breath in my ear when she told me she wanted me again.

The way she looked when I kissed her goodbye at the door.

I wasn’t sure what I’d say if she asked.

If she looked at me with that half-smile and said, Did you miss me?

I didn’t know.

But I was starting to wish I had.

A woman’s voice pulled me back. Soft. Familiar.

Across the street, a mom was helping her kid into a carseat. Brushing the hair from his face.

“Come on, sweetie. It’s for our own good, remember?”

My stomach twisted.

I stopped walking.

The words echoed in a different voice. One I hadn’t heard in years.

"It’s for our good, okay?" My mother. Not looking at me. Not meeting my eyes. The hallway light yellow and sick. A man in a suit smiling at me. An envelope changing hands. The click of a door closing. The sound of a zipper.

I blinked.

Came back.

The woman was gone. Just taillights now. Fading around a corner.

I breathed out and rubbed at my face with both hands.

Kept walking.

I didn’t know where I was going.

But it wasn’t away from her.

Not anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED... PART 4

[puppykatz]

pls write some fluff w dani and gn!reader

12:00AM ‹𝟹

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ; daniela avanzini x gn reader.

summary ‎::: you and dani have been in the talking stage for a couple weeks now, but new years might be the final push you two need.

warnings ‎::: reader gets a little overstimulated, but that's it !!

note... a week late for new years bc im a slow writer.. and the intro reads a tad rushed bc i had a rough time figuring out how to make the transition smooth :[ im very sorry!! (also i am in fact working on some other requests rn! ty guys sm for your patience ^.^)

dani smiled, greeting everyone excitedly whilst they cheered over her arrival. you stood behind her nervously, yours hands intertwined, giving a meek smile along with small waves to the few people who noticed and welcomed you in.

you were dani's plus one to a new years gathering, and to say you were anxious was an understatement; this was the first time you were meeting any of her friends in person. you'd talked to a few of them interchangeably a couple times, when they'd burst into her room while the two of you were calling or texting. you'd talked the most to manon, seeing as she's dani's roomate, and often entertained you whenever dani stepped away for a little during one of your calls.

it wasn't long before two of you were pulled away into watching an on-going uno match, as it was the crowd's current main focus.

eventually, that game ended, and a second one started—but unfortunately, you had been eliminated pretty early on, and since everyone else was busy continuing on with the game, you'd figured it'd be okay to step out onto the balcony for a few as it had gotten a little rowdy due to all the +2s.

what you didn't realize, was that dani had gotten eliminated as well, and noticed you leaving. she frowned, wondering if something happened that upset you. to not draw any attention to you or her, she stood up quietly, following you out onto the balcony.

“yn?” she called out, softly shutting the balcony door behind her. you greeted her, smiling sheepishly as she stood next to you. “are you alright?”

“yeah. it was just kind of.. loud.”

she inched closer to you, taking your hands in hers. “we can leave if you want.”

you shook your head profusely, “no, i'm okay. really.” you gave her hands a light squeeze as affirmation, your heart warming up at the fact that she seemed so genuinely concerned.

she opened her mouth to say something else, immediately being cut off by ruckus from within the house; everyone had paused the game and begun counting down. “it's 12:00 already?” she muttered, unconsciously fiddling with your hands.

as soon as the countdown got to one, your eyes were fixated on the sky, cheerfully watching all the different fireworks go off. dani, on the other hand, had her gaze fixated on you; admiring how pretty you looked with all the firework colors lighting up your face.

“can i kiss you?” her voice was barely over a whisper, as if it was a thought that wasn't meant to be said aloud.

you whipped your head to look at her, immediately being met with her gaze; the sweetest, love-filled doe eyes you'd ever seen staring back at you. she was a lot closer than you remembered, yet you were unsure if you had even heard her correctly.

“please?” hearing her plea made your stomach flip, and you couldn't help but nod giddily.

you couldn't even get a second nod in before her lips were on yours, her hand traveling up to caress your cheek while the other tugged you closer by the hem of your shirt. the kiss was slow, her lips moving against yours passionately, though delicately, as if she were afraid to hurt you or possibly scare you away.

she let go of your shirt, bringing her other hand up to hold your face fully. your knees wobbled, feeling her smile into the kiss. “already falling for me?”

you barely had the chance to respond before a knock on the balcony door startled you two apart.

“we're.. starting uno round three.. or are you guys too busy?” manon smiled innocently at the two of you, clearly planning all the different ways she'd tease dani about this later.

dani bashfully muttered a response, entwining your hands again and following manon back inside, bringing you along with her.

── 𖹭 ──

for the rest of the night, dani hovered around you; her hand never left yours and the smile on her face never faded once. the kiss had seemingly boosted her confidence, as she'd started openly using pet names for you. she'd also gotten a lot more touchy; currently, she had her arms wrapped around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder while she hugged you from behind.

“babe, play that one.” dani perked up, using her head to point to a card in your hand.

“hold on. how is it fair that these two are teaming??” megan called out, pointing at you and dani, since you guys had decided to mix your cards and just play as one.

“leave them alone megan, you know dani will explode if she's away from yn for five minutes.” sophia remarked, nudging dani with her shoulder playfully.

dani's cheeks heated up and she hid her face in the crook of your neck, hugging you a little tighter.

you finally placed down a card, “okay, okay. lara, your turn.” unable to hold back your smile, you turned to dani, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before turning your attention back to the game.

[hansmic]

｡･ﾟﾟ･𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒｡･ﾟﾟ

han jisung x fem! reader

summary: Years into their relationship, jisung suddenly changes. He seems distant, his feelings no longer as clear as they once were. you wonder if his love was ever real or if you were just a placeholder. Can you find a way back to each other before it’s too late?

genre: angst, romance

warnings: um I guess han is kind of an asshole in this and cursing?

word count: 2.0k

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆

It had been 3 years since you and Jisung started dating. At first, the relationship seemed perfect. Jisung was everything you could have ever wanted. He was caring, loving, and always there for you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, and nothing could ever ruin your happiness.

But as the months passed, you started to notice subtle changes in Jisung’s behavior. He would spend more time on his phone, his attention shifting away from you. His responses became shorter, his affection less evident.

You tried to brush off these changes, convincing yourself that it was just a phase. Maybe he was just going through a rough time or was stressed out. But deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Every time you tried to bring it up, he would brush it off, saying everything was fine.

As time went on, those subtle changes became more apparent. Jisung would spend entire days locked in his room, barely even noticing your presence anymore. He would no longer spend quality time with you, and when he did, he seemed distracted, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Jisung... we need to talk."

He was sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on his phone. He didn't even look up as you approached, his fingers still moving across the screen.

"I can't right now," he replied, his tone short and dismissive. "I'm busy."

Your heart sank at his response, a wave of hurt and frustration washing over you. You had tried to talk to him multiple times, but he always brushed you off, making excuses.

"Busy with what, exactly?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He finally looked up from his phone, his expression annoyed. "I don't know, work stuff I guess." He replied, not even trying to hide the fact that he was lying.

You could see right through his excuse. It was painfully obvious that he was avoiding the conversation. It hurt, deeply, to know that he was putting his work before you.

"Jisung, we both know that's not true." You said, your voice growing louder, your frustration escalating. "You've been distant for months, spending more time on your phone than with me. I deserve an explanation."

He let out a sigh, setting his phone down on the coffee table. "I don't know what you're talking about. Everything's fine." He muttered, his eyes darting away from your gaze.

You shook your head, your jaw clenching in frustration. "No, everything's not fine. You've changed, and I can't even recognize you anymore."

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't have time for this right now. Can't you just leave me alone?"

His words hit you like a physical blow, and your chest tightened with hurt and anger.

"I'm not going to just leave you alone. I'm your girlfriend! We're supposed to talk things through when there's a problem."

He rolled his eyes, his irritation clear. "Right, because you're always so good at that." He said sarcastically, his words dripping with bitterness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taken aback by his sudden hostility. "I've tried to talk to you multiple times, but you always brush me off."

He shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "It means you're always nagging me, always complaining about something. It's draining, honestly."

"So now it's my fault that you've become distant and cold?" You asked incredulously, your anger flaring. "I'm not nagging, I'm trying to resolve our problems! But you won't even listen to me!"

"Oh, here we go again." He said, rolling his eyes. "It's always about you, isn't it? You're making a big deal out of nothing."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "A big deal out of nothing? You've been ignoring me for months, and you think I'm making a big deal out of nothing?"

"You're being dramatic. I have a job, I have responsibilities. I can't be glued to your side 24/7." He said, his tone becoming more and more detached.

"I'm not asking you to be glued to my side 24/7. I'm asking for a little bit of your time! Is that really so much to ask for?" You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes.

He huffed, shaking his head. "You're asking too much. I'm tired, I'm stressed. Can't you just leave me alone and let me have some peace?"

His words stung, and you felt your heart crumbling with every syllable that left his lips.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity of your emotions consumed you. You had reached your breaking point, and his dismissive attitude only fueled your anger.

"Is that what I am to you? Just a nuisance that gets in the way? Someone you can push aside whenever you feel like it?"

Jisung's expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. For the first time, he seemed to realize the gravity of his words.

"That's not what I'm saying..." He started, but you interrupted him, your voice filled with a mixture of hurt and anger.

"Then what are you saying, Jisung? Because from where I'm standing, it sure as hell sounds like you're saying I'm an inconvenience to you." He looked away, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the right words. "I just... I need space, okay? I need some time to myself to deal with things."

The words were like a dagger to your heart. You had tried so hard to keep the relationship afloat, and now he was asking for space?

"Space?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. "You need space? After three years of being together, you're suddenly saying you need space?"

He didn't respond, avoiding your gaze, and his silence spoke volumes.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. After everything you had been through together, after all the sacrifices you had made, he was suddenly pulling away. "Is there someone else?" You asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"What?" He looked up, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "No, there's no one else. Why would you even think that?"

The look of confusion in his eyes made you hesitate, but the doubts and suspicions that had been gnawing at your mind for weeks would not be silenced.

"How am I supposed to believe that? You've been so distant, spending more time on your phone than with me. You barely even look at me anymore." Your voice trembled, your fear and insecurity now evident.

"It's not like that." He said, his tone defensive. "I've just been stressed out with work. I don't have time to focus on anything else."

His words were a clear attempt to deflect the blame, and it only fueled your anger further.

You couldn't take it anymore. The pain and exhaustion were overwhelming. You needed to get away from him, from the situation itself.

"Fine." You said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "You want space? You can have all the space you want."

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned.

As you walked out of the apartment, tears streaming down your face, you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back. But you didn't dare turn around, knowing that if you did, you might break down completely.

You walked blindly, your vision blurred by tears. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, hurt, anger, and despair all fighting for dominance.

Finally, you found yourself in a nearby park. You collapsed onto a bench, burrying your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to fully surrender to the pain that had been building up inside you for months.

You sat sobbing on the bench, the weight of your emotions crashing over you like waves.

But just as the tears began to slow, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

"Hey." The voice was soft, tentative.

You looked up, your eyes widening as you saw Jisung standing a few feet away, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He looked unusually nervous.

"Can I sit?" He asked, gesturing to the empty space next to you on the bench.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still raw from the previous encounter. But despite the pain he had caused, you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him. Wordlessly, you nodded and scooted over to make room for him.

He sat down, the distance between you palpable. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the silence stretching out uncomfortably. Finally, he cleared his throat, breaking the awkward tension.

"I was wrong." He started, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

You remained silent, listening intently. A part of you wanted to lash out, to unleash all the pent-up anger and hurt, but curiosity held you back.

"I... I've been distant. And I've been selfish. I pushed you away, and I hurt you because I was scared." He continued, his voice growing quieter with each word.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

"Scared?" You finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what?"

He took a deep breath, his shoulders visibly tensing. "I was scared of losing you. Of screwing things up. And in the process, I ended up doing exactly that."

A mix of pain and hope twisted in your chest. It was the first time he had showed any vulnerability since everything had started to go downhill.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you push me away instead?"

"I thought... I thought if I kept you at a distance, it would protect me. It was easier to be cold and distant than to open up and risk getting hurt." He confessed, his fingers fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on his jeans.

"But you ended up hurting me instead." You said, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart was a tangled web of emotions, the pain from his actions still fresh in your mind, but mixed with a glimmer of hope and understanding.

"I know. And I'm so sorry." He said, finally looking at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you. I was just... scared. I didn't know how to handle everything, and I pushed you away because it was easier than dealing with my own fears."

You studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse. For a moment, all the hurt and anger subsided, replaced by a glimmer of empathy.

"Why did you come after me?" You asked, your voice shaky.

"Because I had to make things right." He said, his gaze never leaving yours. "I couldn't just let you walk away. I needed to tell you how sorry I am. And that... and that I don't want to lose you."

Your heart clenched at his words. A part of you wanted to believe him, to forgive him and move forward. But a larger part was still wary, still hurting from the months of neglect and indifference.

"I want to believe you." You said, your voice tremulous. "But I'm scared. You hurt me, Jisung. How do I know you won't just pull away again the next time things get tough?"

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I can't promise I won't make mistakes again. I'm human, and I make stupid decisions. But what I can promise is that I'll always do my best to communicate with you, to never let my fears and insecurities push you away again."

As his fingers curled around yours, warmth spread through your body, the connection you had once felt so deeply reigniting. You wanted to believe him, to give him a chance.

"I...I need time." You said softly, your voice filled with vulnerability.

"Take all the time you need." He said, his grip on your hand tightening. "I'll be here. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. And in the meantime, I'll do everything I can to make it up to you."

As you sat there, your hand in his, the clouds slowly began to clear away. The hurt and anger were still there, but underneath it all was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆

a/n: lmk if you want a part 2 of when they get back together.

masterlist is here!

[kookxmira]

Workaholic 1 | Jeon Jungkook

"tell me baby, how was the kiss?"

smut

ceo!jungkook x wife!reader

summary : how’s the best way to tell your husband his enemy kissed you? while he’s fucking you.

WARNING : kissing, begging, penetration, rough sex, manhandling, doggy style, missionary, degradation, squirting

word count : 3.6k

part 2

-

you hardly remember the last time you dressed this beautifully, wearing a tight red dress that accentuates your curves in all the right places.

you don't have a reason to look this good anymore, but now that you're all dressed up, you miss it.

you were eager to show your husband the dress, but work is keeping him busy again tonight.

you wish he could've been here. you wish you were slow dancing with him and kissing his lips, but instead, you're drowning down your fourth cup of wine.

"hey," a voice calls from behind, pulling you out of your drunken haze.

you turn your head, checking to see who the voice belongs to, and in that very moment, your heart skips a thunderous beat.

"hi..." you greet back.

feeling apprehensive, you instinctively reach for your purse to prepare your leave, but minho speaks before you can.

"you should stay. a little company wouldn't hurt right?" he suggests.

caught in a slight dilemma, you hesitate on what to do. should you engage in a conversation with your husband's enemy or walk away?

you know it should've been the latter, but your feet stay in place.

"where's your husband?" minho inquires, scanning the crowd with a mischievous glint.

"he's busy with work," you reply. you see the small smile appear on his lips before he looks back at you.

"since we're both alone, how about a dance?" he says, placing a hand on top of yours.

oh.

surprised by his request, you quickly remove your hand from underneath his. of course the obvious answer is no. how could you possibly dance with someone your husband despises?

"no thank you," you reply gently.

minho's eyes twinkle as he looks you up and down, licking his lip.

"you're wearing this beautiful dress and you're not even going to dance?... don't be lame."

you'll admit, it look you a while to find a dress this perfect and that's because you were only doing it for jungkook.

it really is a shame he couldn't make it.

"us? together? i just don't think that would be a good idea," you insist, shaking your head.

"because of your husband?"

"yes, exactly." that should've been obvious from the start.

"but he's not here.." minho smirks, leaning his head to get a better look at your face.

"that makes it worse," you retort with a raised brow, coming to final terms that his intentions aren't as pure you tried to make them to be.

"i just can't help it... i think you look absolutely gorgeous," he compliments.

caught off guard, you avoid eye contact. "oh. well, thank you," you mutter.

you're just confused. you have no idea why he's talking to you.

"if you were my wife, i promise you would never have be alone," minho states in a lower tone, inching closer to you "i would treat you better than your husband."

you quickly move away from him, creating a safe distance as you shake your head.

"jungkook does treat me right," you state firmly, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

"a true gentlemen would know if his women was feeling lonely," minho tells you. "your body yearns for the attention of your husband, but he can't satisfy you. no, he can't do that."

"that's not true," you step in defensively.

"he's only busy with work and although he doesn't have time for me, i still love him," you add.

"but does he love you?"

you hesitate..

"he does love me," you mutter, averting your gaze to the abandoned wine on the table.

it reminds you of jungkook. it reminds you of the reason why you started drinking again after many years of cutting it out of your life.

minho's smirk deepens at your change of expression.

lost in your thoughts, you fail to the notice the hunger of his gaze fixated on your lips.

"to be fair.." minho continues, his voice softening as he gets closer, "it's common for husbands to grow bored of their wives, even if they're as beautiful as you."

before you have the chance to react, minho's lips smash onto yours in a sudden unwelcome kiss. you instinctively push him away as you stand up abruptly.

"minho!" you exclaim, voice drowned out by the blasting music that fills the large room.

"hmm, better than i thought. cherry lip gloss?" he retorts, a malicious smirk playing on his lips.

a mix of disgust, guilt, and anger courses through your body and slowly, you begin step backwards, unaware of the sudden presence behind you. just as you teeter on the edge of a small step, a pair of arms catch you before you fall.

"are you alright?" taehyung's concerned voice fills your ears.

although surprised by his unexpected appearance, you're relieved as you nod at his question.

without any hesitation, he drags you away to a quieter corner near the entrance.

"why were you talking to him?" taehyung questions, his voice laced with a mix of worry and confusion.

taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you try to gather your thoughts. everything had just escalated so quickly.

"i... don't know," you mutter softly.

you're aware that engaging in a conversation with minho is strictly forbidden, a rule repeatedly told by both jungkook and taehyung.

"i never intended for anything to happen. i.. don't know what I was thinking," you confess.

"i saw him kiss you," taehyung sighs, rubbing his forehead. "i know that's not your fault, but don't ever, and I mean it y/n. don't ever talk to him again," he says sternly.

"okay," you softly reply.

"don't be angry at me, but i actually told jungkook to come and pick you up," taehyung reveals, and your eyes widen from panic.

"he texted me and asked if you were here because he noticed you weren't home," he adds.

dang it.

feeling slightly overwhelmed by everything that's happened with minho, and now with what's going to happen with jungkook, you sigh in distress.

"he's here," taehyung announces and your heart jumps at the news as you quickly straighten your posture.

as your husband approaches, you notice him engrossed in a phone call, and you nervously gulp down the lump in your throat.

"thanks for texting hyung," jungkook says before firmly grabbing a hold of your wrist. you're unable to give taehyung a proper goodbye as you're dragged out of the door.

once you reach the car, jungkook opens the door for you, a stern look in his eyes.

"get in the car," jungkook commands, his tone telling you that he doesn't care about your explanation as of right now.

he ends the phone call, telling his secretary he won't be available for the rest of the night before he drives off.

"wanna tell me why you snuck out?" he asks, a small tinge of anger in his tone.

you understand why he's upset. after all you lied about going to sleep early and then snuck out. and lying has never been an issue in your guy’s relationship.

"i just didn't want to be stuck at home," you reply honestly, nervously biting your lip.

"you still shouldn't have lied to me," jungkook asserts, one hand on the wheel with the other in his lap.

both of you fall silent for a moment, the only sounds permeating the air being the distant hums of passing cars and the rustling wind.

that's until jungkook picks up on the familiar fruity scent in the air, and he furrows a brow.

"were you drinking?" he questions in a mix of concern and disbelief.

a surge of panic hits you, causing your body to tense involuntarily.

"uh. just a bit of wine," you mumble, voice barely audible.

you can see the way jungkook's jaw clenches, frustration building up.

"you always throw up after drinking wine, so why do you keep drinking it?" jungkook scolds sternly.

"i don't throw up anymore," you say, like it's any better.

you know that's not an excuse for drinking, but you're unsure of how to explain yourself right now.

"y/n. it's not just about that, it's about your health," jungkook says frustratedly "we've already had this conversation before."

you close your eyes for a brief second as a soft sigh escapes your lips. you really don't want to argue right now because you already know you're in the wrong for drinking.

at the same time, he pulls up to the driveway and you quickly hop out of the car. you head to your shared bedroom, with jungkook cautiously following behind.

the discomfort of your high heels becomes so unbearable that you almost stumble on the stairs, so you quickly kick them off when you reach the room.

when you step in front of the full-length mirror, you notice your disheveled hair and slightly smudged eyeliner.

you honestly don't know why you even try so hard to look good sometimes when it's all for nothing.

you catch a glimpse of jungkook's reflection in the mirror, his eyes fixated on you, but you choose to ignore it.

he removes his blazer, his movements deliberate before gently encircling your waist and tugging you closer to him.

deciding to admire you instead, he takes a deep breath to let go of his frustration, inhaling your sweet rose scented perfume.

"you look stunning," jungkook compliments, looking you and down through the mirror.

"let me fuck your brains out, yeah?" he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

you take a moment before you respond, gulping down the lump in your throat.

"jungkook, we were just arguing-"

"i need to teach you a lesson," jungkook speaks softly, making you anticipate his next movements.

he abruptly pushes you down, bending you over your makeup table, knocking down and over some products.

"jungkook!" you let out in surprise.

"my beautiful wife needs to be taught a harsh lesson," he says, roughly lifting the tight dress over your ass. "she needs to learn that lying and sneaking out has consequences."

he slaps your ass, hand imprinting on your flesh as you whine from the sting.

"you look so fucking beautiful in this dress," jungkook whispers. "and i'm about to fuck you in it."

he swiftly grabs your arm, turning you around to kiss your pretty lips before he proceeds to push you on the bed with a smile.

"open your pretty legs, baby," he commands, slowly removing the black tie from around his neck.

he takes a seat on the chair in front of you, eyes dark as he waits for you to comply.

"i said open your fucking legs Y/N," he repeats.

you scurry to the top of the bed, gradually spreading your thighs for your husband.

he stands up and slowly unbuttons his dress shirt, his gaze intimate and naughty.

you feel your panties gush with wetness again and bite your lip to refrain yourself from moaning.

"miss my cock huh?" jungkook teases, a smug grin on his face.

although you don't respond, the look on your face explains everything.

he gets rid of his dress pants, his semi-hard cock coming in view as he slowly strokes it up and down while looking at your body.

his cock begins to harden, blue veins becoming prominent.

at the sight, you subconsciously close your legs to get some friction.

"open your legs," jungkook commands again, in irritation.

he watches you struggle to obey as your thighs barely part, slightly rubbing against each other.

he roughly grabs your ankles and swiftly tugs you to end of the bed, forcefully prying your legs open before he slaps your drenched pussy.

"what? i haven't fucked my wife in so long and all the sudden she doesn't know how to follow orders." jungkook shakes his head in disapproval.

"i'm sorry," you mutter.

"i bet you are hmm," he hums, tightening his grip on your neck.

you feel the head of jungkook's cock poke at your entrance and you hold your breath, waiting for him to push all the way in, but he doesn't. he only pushes the head in before pulling back out.

"stop teasing me please," you beg, furrowing your brows in desperation.

all you need is to feel him.

he laughs in delight, enjoying how desperate you are for him.

he then pushes the head of his cock inside you again and pulls out just to hear your cries.

a minute later, he finally pushes all the way in, knocking the air out of your lungs. your mouth falls agape, unable to make a sound as you feel his cock scape against the inside of your tight pussy.

"shit- i feel like i'm fucking a virgin," jungkook voices breathily, forehead coming in contact with yours.

he begins to thrust in and out and you whine, the pleasure making your stomach churn.

"ah fuck-" you finally moan.

jungkook pushes deeper inside you and you gasp, hands coming to touch his pecs as you breath against his lips.

"jungkook, you're so fucking good- fuck" you moan desperately.

"yeah?" he responds teasingly, a handsome smirk on his face.

"hm- you fuck me so good!" you repeat.

jungkook continues to pound your cunt, the tightness of your walls making him go absolutely crazy.

he stares at your fucked-out expression, your red cheeks wet from the tears running down your face.

"fuck- please," you sob, submitting to jungkook just like he wants.

"you dirty- little fucking slut," he says through gritted teeth, feeling his cock become even bigger.

his eyes bounce between the cream on his cock and to your face, unable to decide which one he likes more. he loves both, he wants to see your white cream paint his cock while your alluring face contorts in pleasure.

the sound of the bed hitting the wall becomes louder and he sighs in pleasure, hands tightening around your neck again.

before he can go any further, the ringing of your phone goes off causing jungkook to groan. it takes him a second before he pulls out, leading you to whine at the empty feeling.

"it might be an emergency," he mutters to you before quickly rising off the bed. "stay right there," he instructs.

you do as he says, curiously waiting for him to get your phone while your throbbing pussy begs for attention.

you're unsure of who would be calling you at this hour.

jungkook sighs, retrieving your purse from the nearby table and rummages through it. his eyes land on taehyung's name flashing bright.

raising a brow in question, he walks back over to you and throws your phone on the bed. he nods at it.

"answer the phone."

you grab the device beside you, about to answer, but jungkook sinks back onto the bed, cock returning to your entrance.

"jungkook-" you gasp, attempting to stop him, but he grabs your wrist, pinning it to the bed as he shakes his head.

"no baby. answer the phone," he says, pushing his thick cock into you once again.

you moan loudly, unable to control the lewd sound.

"please-" you whimper.

he goes easy on you, stopping his thrusts as he motions for you to answer the phone.

you clumsily push the button and immediately, the booming sound of taehyung's voice comes through.

"hey, I called to see if you made it home safely," tae says, and you curse under your breath in a little bit of annoyance and pleasure.

this call is in fact, not an emergency.

"y-yes, i'm home safe," you reply, trying your very best to sound as if your husband's seven inch cock isn't inside of you right now, but it's difficult.

jungkook smirks, stifling a mocking laugh.

"that's good. and sorry i basically told on you," taehyung laughs.

"it's not your fault, it's jungkook," you say, unable to resist the urge to blame him, but that doesn't go well for you as he thrusts a lot deeper into you.

you accidentally drop the phone and it lands next to your head as you silently moan, whimpering against his lips.

"did you guys fight?" taehyung asks.

you slightly recall the small fight in the car about your drinking habit, thinking that's what he meant.

"a little.. bit," you let out breathily.

"yeah.." taehyung chuckles. "did he get mad?"

"y-yes, he was being a jerk," you reply.

jungkook simply pokes his tongue at the side of his cheek at your response, thrusting harder into you and you cry, biting onto your lower lip as you shut your eyes.

you slightly push his chest, signaling for him to go easy on you, but all he does is show a lopsided grin, telling you he's going to do the opposite just to see you try not to moan.

you whine into his ear, nails scratching his back as you let him fuck you so good.

"well.. i don't blame kook. i would hate it too if minho kissed areum," taehyung blurts out.

his words cause you to freeze in surprise cause you surely weren't expecting him to say that.

jungkook furrows his eyebrows, replaying taehyung's words in his head to double check if he heard it right before he stops thrusting.

"i- um-" you stutter, mind racing to find the right words, but you're too late as jungkook figures things out, your panicked expression only adding to his final answer.

"you kissed minho?" jungkook's voice rings out in anger and disbelief.

in a sudden burst of frustration, he snatches your phone, abruptly ending the call.

his eyes darken, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

"minho was at the fucking party?" he asks, anger coursing through his body.

he grits his teeth, deeply breathing against your face as he stares at you.

"jungkook-," you try to explain, hands on his chest to push him away, but he doesn't move.

instead, he manhandles you so swiftly, moving you on your hand and knees, slapping your ass hard, making you wail.

he pushes your face to the bed, smearing your pretty makeup against the white sheets.

jungkook inserts his cock back in your pussy in one fast movement and you gasp for air. you can feel him so much deeper this way, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

he angrily begins to pound harder into you.

he puts your hair in a ponytail with his hand, yanking you backward until your back is pressed against his chest.

"i- specifically told you to stay away from him," jungkook grunts into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "he got to kiss.. your pretty lips."

you whimper, trying to explain yourself, but his cock doesn't allow you to.

"tell me baby, how was the kiss?" he asks, his unoccupied hand digging into your hip.

"m-minho-" you moan loudly right as he hits your g-spot.

you begin to shake, the repetitive rub against your g-spot making you see stars. you would've fallen over by now if jungkook wasn't holding you to his chest.

"what's that?" jungkook mockingly says, knowing he's hitting your g-spot so perfectly that you're unable to speak.

"ah!- minho k-" mascara tears stream down your face, your red cherry lip gloss smeared across your cheek.

"stop moaning his fucking name," jungkook grumbles, landing another hard slap on your reddened ass.

he finally let's you go and you fall right back on the bed, cheek pushed against the sheets before he picks up an even faster pace.

"tell me what happened y/n," he says, sweat dripping down his face.

"oh god! s-slow down-" you manage to let out, sobbing in pleasure.

"tell me what happened," he repeats in irritation.

he spanks your ass two times on each side before grabbing your hips to go deeper, but slows down his pace so you have the chance to talk.

"i- ... i was talking to him," you admit breathily, turning to face him with innocent eyes. "and he started telling me.." you hesitate, turning back to the bed to avoid showing guilt.

"telling you what?" jungkook asks, beginning to increase his pace again.

"how b-bad of a husband you are," you whimper. "he said- that i'd never have to be alone a-agin, if he was my husband."

you moan wholeheartedly, your g-spot being pounded so hard that it becomes too much to bare.

"ah! he- d-doesn't think you- love me," you let out, more tears streaming down your fucked out face.

and with that, jungkook fucks you harder, faster, and deeper, making you wail pathetically as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"and do you really believe that?" he questions, grunting at how close he is to cumming inside your dirty walls, but he controls it.

"no- jungkook," you sigh, feeling your orgasm approaching.

he can feel you tightening around him, making him angrier.

"fuck y/n. you're getting so fucking tight."

his hips stutter and he growls, knowing he's about to cum hard.

"talking about minho turns you on, huh?"

"no-" you moan, stomach tightening.

"no?" jungkook pounds your cunt so hard that you shake, screaming his name until your voice gives out.

"i'm cummin-" you squeal, body shaking from high pleasure.

your pussy becomes so tight and jungkook pulls out from the pressure, watching you squirt all over the bed as you moan shamelessly.

he pumps his cock, groaning at the lewd sight of you destroying the sheets and he finally shoots his cum, painting your expensive dress all dirty.

he moans proudly, coming down from his high as he jerks his cock between your ass, wanting to feel your beautiful pussy rub against his vein.

"fuck y/n," jungkook growls, watching you shake from overstimulation.

he feels his cock throb before it begins to soften and he looks at the mess you both made with a chuckle.

he gets off the bed, taking deeps breath to regain control of his breathing before grabbing a towel from the bathroom.

he wipes the cum off your back and in between your legs.

jungkook then turns you around on your back and smiles at how you beautiful you look, even after getting fucked and crying your makeup off.

you look into his handsome eyes and he can see the guilt written all over your face.

"i know i s-shouldn't have been talking to him, but we were just talking and all the sudden he was kissing me and i-"

"yeah baby?" jungkook interrupts, wiping your stained cheek with his thumb. "but what did i say about talking to him?"

you gulp nervously, hoping he won't get mad again.

"to walk away if he ever tries to talk to me," you answer, melting under his touch.

it makes you feel even guiltier.

"and what did my baby do?"

"talk to him.." you mutter.

all of the sudden, jungkook sucks in a breath, a groan leaving his lips as he tilts his head toward the ceiling.

he rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"why does my wife have to be so gorgeous?" jungkook sighs, dropping his gaze to look at your beautiful eyes.

your cheeks turn a rosy pink as you avoid his strong gaze, but he captures your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"i love you," jungkook says and you feel your eyes begin to water, the loving feeling swimming in your heart.

"i love you too."

[whimsimille]

KEMPS!

Minsung x Fem! reader

Summary: Where Minho uses sex and rough words to forget how shitty his life is. It all works pretty well until he meets two people that can only ruin his game.

alpha x alpha x alpha

Word count: ~ 10000

Warnings: angst with happy ending, ptsd mention, coping mechanisms, sex, smut, +18, toxicity, use of alcohol and drugs, knotting, piv, creampie, roughness, dom and sub undertones, f and m receiving, oral, anal, dp, light bondage, breeding kink mention

-------------

"When will I see you again?"

"There we go again."

Every time, the same scene played out: him tying off the used condom, thumb and forefinger working in sync while his gut churned with familiar self-loathing. His tanned legs slid from between the cheap cotton sheets like a lizard escaping midday heat and his shirt, reeking of cigarettes and bearing the evidence of pink lipstick on its collar, returned to its place along with what remained of his dignity.

"You didn't answer my question," she insisted, sitting up with her breasts exposed to the stale air. Her nose, red-tipped like she was fighting back tears, twitched as she caught his scent beginning to sour. "Why do you always run away like this? Is it because I'm a lower-class omega? Because I work at a convenience store instead of some fancy office?"

He had a headache, the kind that started at the nape where his undercut needed a trim and crawled upward. The kind that made his eyes throb as if someone was performing brain surgery with a rusty hammer. He needed to go home. He needed to go to her. He needed a scalding shower to burn away the shame. He needed to stop fucking thinking.

"Listen carefully because I won't repeat myself," he drawled while adjusting his hair in the mirror. "I'm not interested in seconds. I don't do repeats. I thought I made that crystal fucking clear. Or should I draw you a diagram?"

"But Minho-ssi..." she started, biting her lower lip in a way that probably worked wonders on lesser men.

"Cut the honorifics bullshit, Marina. We just fucked; we're not at a business meeting." He yanked his belt through the loops. "Got any coffee in this shoebox you call an apartment? And aspirin. Definitely need aspirin. My head's fucking killing me, and your omega pheromones aren't helping."

"Kitchen," she responded, finally pulling the sheet up to cover herself as if modesty had suddenly become a priority. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily as her own bitter strawberry pheromones filled the room, mixing with his acidic alpha scent to create something that smelled like regret. "First door on the right. We're out of sugar though. And for the last fucking time, it's Melissa. Not Marina, not Mariana. Me-li-ssa, you entitled knothead."

"Perfect. Sugar's for people who can't handle reality." He fished out the crumpled pack of Marlboros from his back pocket, tapping one against his wrist. "Don't wait up, sweetheart. Or better yet, don't wait at all. Find yourself a nice beta who'll remember your name and buy you flowers or whatever the fuck it is you're looking for."

And he wasn't lying, not even a little. Despite the fact that this omega—Melissa, definitely not Marina or whatever the fuck he'd been calling her—could do things with her tongue that would make a Catholic priest renounce his vows and had a laugh like wind chimes in a summer breeze, Minho simply didn't keep dead weight in his deck. Melissa was nothing but a two of clubs in a hand that needed aces.

It was like a game of Kemps, the same one he played on Sunday afternoons with his friends drunk on soju in Chan's apartment. In the game, four players formed two pairs, each receiving four cards from the French deck. The objective? Get four matching cards before the opponent, discreetly signaling your partner to shout "Kemps!"—a wink, absently scratching your nose. If you were wrong and shouted without your partner having four matching cards? You lost points, just like in real life you lost your sanity. If you missed your partner's signal? More points lost, like the nights of sleep he lost thinking about persistent ex-lovers. It was a game of observation, timing, and strategy.

In the game, as in life, Minho was an expert at this. A pair of toned legs here, full lips there, a cheeky smile elsewhere—he picked up the cards that caught his attention and handed useless ones to the other players. Players like Hyunjin, with his preference for frustrated betas with colored hair, or Felix, who had a thing for alpha literature students who wore thick-framed glasses and quoted Bukowski between one orgasm and another. Minho had been doing this with men and women for years, receiving his cards—their sweaty bodies writhing beneath him, their moans, their phone numbers saved as "NEVER answer"—and discarding those that never made sense with his game. Simple. Quick. Practical. Avoided hysterical screaming at three in the morning, endless crying, ex-lover sex fueled by regret, pathetic relapses fueled by cheap vodka.

But then, on some October night, with the smell of burnt caramel not so characteristic of an alpha and jazz playing softly, there was his jack, the highest card in the deck after the ace. The jack that passed from hand to hand each round like a curse, disrupting the flow of the game until the next round started and the card kept circulating, destroying strategies and ruining plays that seemed perfect on paper. Everyone had to deal with it eventually, but no one wanted to play that card.

That night, as you moved above him with the precision of a hunting feline—hips undulating like waves breaking on the beach, slender fingers tightening around his throat until he saw stars—you had become his jack. The card he held so tightly that the corners were starting to crease, even when he should have discarded it long ago.

Serious relationships and monogamy were never his style. How could he be? His mother taught him that lesson at 8 years old, after swallowing an entire box of Rivotril and writing an apology, not to him, but to her ex. He still remembered the sound her nails made scratching the wooden floor while she convulsed, glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling as he screamed for help. But for you? For you he had tried. Really tried.

"Stay," he whispered, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his fingers traced meaningless patterns on the condensation-slick window. His reflection looked pathetically hopeful. "Just... stay for breakfast this time." A pause. "I make decent scrambled eggs."

You shifted on the bed. "Define 'decent.'"

"Edible enough not to kill you," he replied with a laugh that sounded too raw, too honest. "Maybe even good enough to convince you to come back for seconds."

It turned into months of domestic bliss—or his twisted version of it. Months of biting back territorial growls whenever you walked in carrying traces of other wolves' scents. "Just work," you'd say with that infuriating half-smile, and he'd nod like the lovesick fool he'd become. He ignored Chan's concerned glances over soju shots, Changbin's muttered warnings about alpha-alpha relationships being psychological warfare. Tried playing the reformed playboy even when some omega calling herself @sexygirl22 slid into his DMs with explicit photos and "Remember last week's quickie in the club bathroom?" while you danced barefoot in his kitchen, humming "Somebody to Love" and making condensed milk pudding like some domestic deity.

"This pudding..." His finger traced the edge of the mold, stealing a taste of caramel. The gesture was so childlike, so unguarded, you had to suppress a fond smile. "Tastes exactly like my grandmother's."

"Your grandmother made pudding?" Like a flower in bloom, your legs opened naturally as you leaned over the counter. A few centimeters up, the hem of your shirt—it was actually his, stolen a week ago—rode up, exposing that constellation of freckles on your hip that he loved mapping with his tongue.

"Every Sunday after lunch," he answered, eyes fixed on the exposed bit of skin. "She used to say that sweets made with love tasted different."

It's that in the beginning it was simple: you rode him like you were born for it, scratching his chest and whispering obscenities in his ear that would make even a demon blush. It was about smoking a joint on the balcony at three in the morning, your skilled fingers rolling the joint while he kissed your thighs still trembling from orgasm, waiting for the knot to deflate. "I'm getting addicted," he would murmur against your skin, and you both knew he wasn't talking about the weed. It was about the sacred ritual of watching you dress in the morning: first the black lace panties, then the bra that made your breasts look like works of art, the thigh-high stockings he loved to remove with his teeth, the jeans that hugged your curves like a possessive lover. It was about how you never asked about the scars on his left wrist but kissed them with such reverence that sometimes he found himself crying after you left.

"Why do you do that?" he asked one night, voice thick, his fingers digging into the sheets.

"Do what?"

"Kiss me... like that. Like they're not scars. Like they're not..." he swallowed hard, "ugly."

"Because they're not just scars. They're part of you."

Until it became something different: he stopped you from running out after sex one Sunday morning, pulling you by the waist for another round in the jacuzzi. That's when he discovered you were a teacher at a school in the south zone and taught literature to rebellious teenagers, while he was heir to a chain of five-star hotels spread across Asia. That you loved Seoul with its violence and chaos, the underground bars and narrow streets full of people, while he longed for the peace of Jeju, with its deserted beaches and the smell of tangerines in the air. That you had three rescue cats—Sylvia, Virginia, and Edgar, all named after dead writers—who were your fur children and that, surprisingly, he developed a genuine affection for these creatures, even when Sylvia vomited hairballs on his shoes.

It happened when you stopped being a scheduled fuck and started pulling out, one by one, his fingers from the little bag he always kept next to his heart. You never even said anything, never stopped him from leaving and always left the door ajar, because you hated trapping people and making them feel obligated to stay.

"You can go, if you want," you would always say, wrapped in messy sheets. "You don't have to stay."

And maybe it was exactly that—that frightening freedom, that lack of demands—that made him want to stay. Until he didn't want to anymore.

That's why he bailed.

With your makeup all over the bathroom counter and your underwear discovered beneath the bed like evidence from a crime scene, he couldn't stand you taking up space like a terminal illness. Couldn't stand your caramel perfume and alpha pheromones impregnated in the pillows, your toothbrush next to his, you parading naked through the 300 m² penthouse as if you owned the place. Hated you burying your face in his neck when he woke up screaming at 3:47 in the morning.

"Shh, I'm here," you would murmur, running your fingers through his damp hair, your lips brushing his temple. "It was just a nightmare."

But the real nightmare was the dangerous glimmer of hope he began to see reflected in his own eyes every time he shaved while you played in the bathtub, humming "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles.

One day, his hand froze mid-stroke with the razor, watching your reflection dance in the fogged mirror as soap bubbles crowned your head. With the sun creeping through the window and painting your eyelashes gold, Minho's fingers twitched around the razor handle. His phone buzzed in the counter (probably that cute bellboy from the Peninsula Hotel confirming their afternoon rendezvous, or maybe the yoga instructor sending another photo of her impossibly flexible poses). He should check it. Should definitely not be watching you emerge from the water like some fucking deity, all glistening skin and grace.

His thumb hovered over the screen, already pulling up his contacts list. Delete them all. Ask you to be his. Only his. The thought made his stomach turn even as his pulse quickened and he gave up.

At the sound of his loafers, you lifted your head while he perched on the edge of the tub like some lovesick fool, watching droplets trace paths he'd memorized with his tongue.

"Keep staring like that and I might start charging admission," you drawled, reaching for the shampoo.

"You're going to make me deaf with that caterwauling, little alpha," he shot back. "And since when did you become such a Beatles fanatic? Thought you were more of a 'We Will Rock You' kind of bitch."

"First of all," you said, pointing the shampoo bottle at him like a weapon, "the Beatles are fucking transcendent, you philistine. Second," your lips curved into that infuriating smirk that made him want to bite them bloody, "you were the one moaning 'Yesterday' in your sleep last night. Right after you called me 'baby' and tried to spoon me."

"That's bullshit and you know it," he snarled, but his ears burned red at the tips. "I don't fucking cuddle."

"Oh really?" You stretched languorously, water sloshing against the tub sides. Wet toes brushed his thigh, leaving wet prints on his expensive slacks. "Because I distinctly remember you nuzzling my neck and whimpering when I tried to move away. Face it, Min," you purred, and the nickname sent a jolt straight to his groin, "you're going soft on me."

"Keep dreaming, sweetheart," he managed, even as his throat closed around the lie. "I just needed something warm to stick my knot in."

"Mhmm," you hummed, unconvinced. Your foot slid higher up his thigh. "That's why you sent flowers to my work last week? Because you needed somewhere to stick your knot?"

It was like watching an orange tree growing in the middle of his chest: first just a timid sprout, then branches spreading between his ribs, until the roots began to intertwine with his veins and arteries. And when the first white flowers bloomed, perfuming his entire circulatory system with possibilities, he knew he needed to cut it at the root before the fruits ripened and he found himself addicted to the bittersweet taste of your presence.

"Minho! What the actual fuck? It's four in the fucking morning, and you're here smelling like a distillery had an orgy with a perfume store."

"Still looking like a snack, my little alpha. Even with all these..." His hand made a vague gesture at your new appearance, "changes."

You watched as he staggered slightly, his bloodshot eyes trying to focus on a fixed point. Fragmented memories of a yellow taxi and questionable decisions in dark alleys flashed through his mind like a silent film. That you were different—unrecognizable, maybe—was the only thing that was certain. Your hair, now long and sprinkled with platinum highlights, framed your face in a profane halo. The thorny tattoo serpentined down your neck, disappearing beneath the loose collar. Beneath the typical caramel, you had a masculine, woodsy scent that made him sick to his stomach.

"You know what's funnier? I always knew you would do this. Always knew you'd leave me and then show up at my door wanting to stick your knot in some hole. It was just a matter of time, wasn't it, Lee Minho?"

Sylvia, that four-legged traitor who had always preferred him to you, was now rubbing against his ankles while trying to reach her favorite human. You pushed her away with your foot.

"Let's... let's talk properly, love. Smoke a joint, whatever. Like the old days, remember?" His hands were shaking so badly he had to shove them in his jeans pockets. "We always solved everything after..." A laugh escaped his lips. "Fuck, why is it so hard to talk about feelings without being high? Must be... dunno, must be the age, right?" The taste of blood in his mouth intensified. This time, he had bitten his tongue.

You let out a scoff—a sound that seemed to have been torn from the depths of your throat with a rusty hook. "Age?" Your head tilted to the side, and for a moment, Minho saw his mother in that same movement—moments before she swallowed the pills. "You were twenty-fucking-seven when you stood in the middle of Changbin's birthday party, so wasted you couldn't even spell your own name, and announced to everyone that I was, what was it again? Oh right! 'just another desperate hole begging for your premium alpha cock.' All because I had the audacity to ask if we could try being exclusive. Remember that night, Minho? Or did you drink that memory away too?"

As you eventually allowed Sylvia to come closer, he saw the cat rubbing her muzzle against your ankles as though she was aware of the precise location of the pain.

Love should heal, shouldn't it? Should stitch together the parts that were never united, fill the voids that echoed inside the chest like empty rooms from childhood. Minho knew this better than anyone—he had been sexualized his whole life, used and discarded like a broken toy.

"You don't have that right," you continued. "You don't have the right to show up here reeking of whiskey and..." Your hands gestured in the air, searching for words. "And talk about 'old times.'"

Minho swallowed hard, watching how your fingers now trembled against the doorframe—not from nervousness, but from contained rage that made your knuckles turn white.

Until his lungs pleaded for air, he had tried everything to fill the void you left: cigarettes. Strange bodies in his bed that never reached the right places, hands that tried to stitch him back together but always using the wrong thread. Like thieves in the dark, all stealing pieces from each other, but never finding what they were really looking for.

"Just let me in, yeah?"

A sob escaped his throat before he could contain it, words tangling in his mouth. Sylvia was now sitting between the two of you, her tail moving in a hypnotic rhythm.

You had been the only one to see through the cracks, the only one who didn't try to fix him like he was a puzzle to be solved. The only one who understood that sometimes a cat's rough tongue on the heels could mean more than a thousand empty words of comfort.

But he wouldn't, couldn't show you how much he loved you. Sex and dirty words were safer territory, familiar ground where he could pretend this was just another meaningless encounter.

"Do you still have that purple vibrator?" The words slurred out as his alcohol-heavy tongue caught on his canines. "You could use it on me today, yeah? Make me beg like I used to?"

Like a desperate merchant hawking counterfeit goods in some back alley, it was pitiful how he still attempted to use sex as currency. As if his body, marked with the fingerprints and teeth marks of countless strangers, was the only thing of value he had left to barter with. As if you still wanted that particular damaged merchandise. You had long since learned that his empty promises and fleeting affections were not worth the price.

"I guess old habits die hard, huh? Still the same horny kitten as always, Minho-yah."

At the sound of that old endearment, Minho's narrow hips jerked forward involuntarily, his lean body betraying him like a puppet with tangled strings. A bead of sweat traced the sharp line of his jaw as the lavender scent of his arousal began to saturate the air, mixing with the sour notes of whiskey and desperation.

"Just... just one more time," he begged. "I promise I'll disappear after. I swear on my mother's grave..." A sob ripped from his throat, more wolf than man. "I just need to feel you one more time. Need to remember what it felt like when someone actually gave a fuck about me."

It was almost poetic, you thought. The way Lee Minho could transform desire into pathology, how his lust manifested in muscle spasms and empty promises whispered through teeth that probably cost more than your yearly salary. His eyes, usually a warm chocolate brown, had taken on a reddish tinge that reminded you of blood diluted in water.

"Get out of here, Minho." You clutched Sylvia closer, her warm body and steady purring acting as a shield against the tsunami of alpha pheromones he was trying to drown you in. Her claws pricked your skin through your thin shirt. "Before I call the police."

"You'd never. You care too much; that's always been your problem."

"Try me." Your fingers found your phone in your pocket. "The last bus passes in ten minutes. But I think you'd prefer if I called your private driver. What was his name again? The one who always brought you aspirin and clean clothes after your... episodes?"

Minho's hand flew to the collar of his leather jacket, adjusting it with trembling fingers. "I don't need your fucking pity."

"I know you don't, Minho." You sighed, watching his shoulders hunch forward like a wounded animal. "But I also know you probably left another black credit card in the lost and found of whatever overpriced bar you were drowning in tonight. I bet you left without any cash. Again. Just like that time at The Rose, when you tried to pay for your cab with your Rolex."

"How the fuck..."

"Love, everything okay?" A sleepy voice emerged from the shadows of the apartment, warm and rough like honey mixed with gravel. The powerful scent of freshly ground cinnamon and handcrafted coffee filled your apartment and permeated the door, causing Minho's nostrils to uncontrollably twitch.

"Fucking hell," Minho muttered under his breath, watching as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Dyed an impossible shade of midnight blue that seemed to swallow what little light remained in the hallway, the man's hair stuck up in wild tufts, as if he'd been wrestling with insomnia rather than sleeping. A thin, silvery scar bisected his right eyebrow. Despite his cherubic cheeks and full lips, there was something lethal in the way he held himself, the casual violence of a loaded gun left on safety.

"Who the actual fuck are you supposed to be?" Minho's words slurred together.

The stranger's bare feet made no sound as he crossed the distance between them. Silver rings caught the fluorescent light as his hand found your waist, fingers splaying possessively across your hip.

"Han Jisung," the man's voice was deceptively soft. His tongue flicked out to play with the silver ring in his lower lip, a gesture that drew Minho's attention despite himself. "And you must be the infamous Lee Minho. The one who thinks it's acceptable to harass people at four in the morning because his wolf is feeling lonely."

The air grew thick with competing pheromones, your caramel sweetness, Minho's lavender, and Han's cinnamon colliding and transforming into something acrid and metallic, like blood left to oxidize. Minho's temple throbbed visibly, and he chewed the inside of his cheek until copper flooded his mouth.

"Christ, is this what you're into now?" Minho's eyes raked over Han's form--the scattered tattoos visible beneath his thin tank top, the messy blue hair, the multiple piercings. "Trading in a pure-bred for some street mutt with a DIY paint job?"

Han's scent soured, turning sharp enough to make your eyes water. "Babe," he addressed you without taking his eyes off Minho. "Should I call the cops, or would you like to watch me teach this trust fund pup some manners? Because I'm really curious if he's as tough when he's not marinading in scotch."

"Oh, sweetheart," Minho purred, stepping close enough that his breath ghosted over Han's face. His fingers played with the collar of Han's shirt, twisting the fabric like he was testing its breaking point. "You've got quite the mouth on you. Makes me wonder what other tricks you know." His gaze flicked to you over Han's shoulder, lips curling into something cruel. "Always did have a weakness for strays with attitude problems, didn't you, love? Tell me, does this one beg as prettily as I used to?"

Han didn't back down, but you saw how his fingers contorted—not into fists, but like claws ready to tear apart.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off." Gripping Minho's wrist, Jisung twisted it until he heard the gratifying sound of tendons being stretched to their breaking point.

What happened next made your breath catch in your throat. Minho—proud, arrogant, never-submissive Minho, who once told an alpha CEO to go fuck himself with a golden spoon—let out a sound that was pure, instinctual submission. His head tilted, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat where fading hickeys told stories of nights you didn't want to imagine. 

The gesture was so fundamentally wrong, so against everything you knew about him, that for a moment you thought the expensive whisky had finally corroded something essential inside him. But then his eyes found yours across the space between you—wide, confused, and terrified—and you saw it: his alpha, for only the second time since you'd known him, recognising another as superior. It had been with you the first time. Normally curled in that angry smirk, his lips quivered.

"What the actual fuck..." With surprise, Jisung's eyes grew wide, and the scar through his eyebrow stretched taut. His grip loosened fractionally, more from shock than mercy. "Did you just..."

"Ah," Minho's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through as he fought to regain control. As he attempted to balance himself against the wall, his hands trembled. "So the puppy has fangs after all. Want to show me how to use them properly, Han Jisung-ssi?"

It played out like a slow-motion car crash, stunning in its destruction. Jisung slammed Minho against the wall with enough force to make the cheap prints rattle in their frames. Something dark and broken slipped out of Minho's lips as his forearm pressed against his throat.

"So fucking predictable," Minho rasped around the pressure on his windpipe, his pupils blown so wide the brown was almost swallowed by black. "All you baby alphas..." His fingers found Jisung's bicep, nails, leaving crescent moons in the flesh. "So easy to provoke. So desperate to prove yourselves. Tell me, blueberry, how many others have you pinned like this?"

"I said," Han snarled, pressing harder until Minho's breath came in wheezing gasps, "shut that pretty mouth before I shut it for you. You reek of spoiled lavender and mommy issues, street pup. Did she not hug you enough? Is that why you're here, trying to ruin what isn't yours anymore?"

Following that, there was too much movement to follow—a haze of tattoos and high-end clothing. Suddenly Minho had reversed their positions, pinning Jisung against the wall. Han grunted in surprise at the impact, his teeth clicking together so forcefully that you winced with pity. 

In an attempt to humiliate the wolf who had dared to assert its superiority, Minho's thigh pushed upward between Han's legs and degraded him. Trembling but determined, his fingers tangled themselves into Han's blue strands.

"Who's the street pup now?" Minho tilted his head, letting his lips brush the shell of Jisung's ear. "So docile suddenly. Where's all that protective alpha posturing? Or does it only work when you're trying to impress my leftovers?"

What tore from Jisung's throat wasn't anything you'd heard before—not in your years of teaching children, not in nature documentaries about wolves, not even in your darkest nightmares. Kind of sound that made your bone marrow freeze and your hindbrain scream danger. At a frequency that made your teeth hurt, the cheap metal numbers on your door vibrated. A picture frame crashed to the floor.

Your own alpha stirred beneath your skin like a serpent uncoiling, recognising the precipice of violence you were all balanced on. 

Sylvia pressed herself against your arms. Her tail lashed the air like a whip, pupils blown so wide the green was just a thin ring. You knew, with the bone-deep certainty of prey watching predators circle, that this wouldn't end with just bruised egos and wounded pride. The territory—you, this hallway, perhaps even this entire narrative—had already been marked with invisible blood.

"That's enough! Both of you, stop this-"

But the words died in your throat as Jisung moved. One moment he was pinned against the wall; the next he was pure kinetic energy unleashed. His body curved like a question mark before springing forward, teeth finding the vulnerable juncture where Minho's neck met.

The sound that followed would haunt your dreams for months: wet, obscene, like overripe fruit being crushed under combat boots. Blood, startlingly bright against Minho's shirt, bloomed like a macabre watercolor.

—-----------

As soon as Minho stepped out of the rehabilitation center, his fingers began the routine dance of coffee, lighter, and cigarette. His eyes, still heavy from group therapy, focused on the cracks in the concrete while he tried to juggle the cheap coffee cup and red Marlboro. A curse that reverberated throughout the alley was evoked by the hot liquid that trickled down his hand.

"Fuck's sake, I can't even do this right," he muttered, licking the coffee that dripped between his fingers.

It was a total and utter catastrophe for him. First, Seungmin had shown up at his apartment at 6 AM with some green tea mixed with ginger and honey that looked more like rat poison. "For detoxing," he'd said, pushing the steaming cup into his hands. Then, Bang Chan practically broke down his door, dragging him out of bed while yelling something about "corporate responsibility" and how the shareholders were concerned about his erratic behavior. As if he didn't know the hotel franchise was crumbling under his fingers since you left him.

To top it all off? Jisung was the embodiment of his headache. An irritatingly attractive alpha who had the gift of making his blood boil—and not necessarily in a good way.

Since the incident that led them to the police station (and subsequently to the emergency room, where Minho needed five stitches in his neck and had to pray the bite hadn't been right on his scent gland, linking Jisung to him in a way that gave him chills just thinking about it), the judge had sentenced them to five months of group therapy. Two hours per week sitting in a circle with other "violence-prone individuals," as Dr. Park—a beta who always smelled like old socks—liked to call them.

And now, to make matters worse, whenever he had the chance, Jisung liked to rub his scent gland against yours right in the middle of the room, masking your natural scent. It was as if he wanted Minho to witness firsthand how you had moved on—the way he adjusted his motorcycle helmet every night after the session, his fingers lingering on your nape; how he whispered stupid jokes in your ear that made you laugh in that way that used to be reserved just for Minho; how he made sure to leave visible marks on your neck, transforming everything that once screamed "Minho" into cinnamon and a blue-haired alpha.

"Hey, princess, still haven't learned how to drink coffee without making a mess? Or do you need me to teach you how adults do it?"

Eyelids fluttering, Minho closed his eyes. After four months in this therapeutic hell, his fingers, now bitten down to raw flesh, involuntarily contracted, imprinting his palms with tiny crescents.

"Jisung, I thought we'd agreed to keep our distance outside of sessions. Or is your memory as short as your self-control?"

"Yeah, but then I saw you here alone," Jisung approached. The smell of cinnamon and coffee invaded Minho's personal space like an unwanted heat wave. "And I thought: 'What a waste.' All this drama, all this tension... for what?"

Carelessly, Minho propped one foot on a crushed trash can and leaned against the filthy alley wall. The cigarette hung loose between his chapped lips, smoke dancing in lazy spirals around his face.

"Go fuck yourself, Han."

"Your ex 'little alpha' is doing that quite well," Jisung responded, running his tongue over the piercing in his lower lip provocatively. "Thanks for asking."

Minho clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The taste of cheap coffee still burned his tongue when he raised his eyes to face Jisung. There was something there, hidden in the shadows of those puppy eyes, that almost made Minho choke on the smoke—something hungry, dangerous, electric. Jisung seemed to be planning something behind those long eyelashes, and Minho recognized the familiar crossroads: run or face it.

He should run, of course. Especially after Han had made his alpha behave like a submissive puppy with a simple touch to the wrist. But Minho never had a sense of self-preservation, and if he was going to die today—if Jisung decided to finish what he started that night, now that you weren't here to stop him—well, maybe it would be an appropriate end to all this mess.

"What do you want?"

Old combat boots scuffing the concrete, Han stepped forward. Gently, he reached for the cigarette trapped between Minho's lips. The touch was brief, but it sent electric shocks down his spine, as if someone had connected his nerves to a car battery. Han's eyes, dark as spilled coffee, never left Minho's as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers before crushing it under his sole.

"Sleep with us," Han said simply. "One night."

Time seemed to freeze. Minho felt his toes curl inside his shoes, as if searching for something to grip onto. Like a bird in a cage, his heart pounded against his ribs, and his tongue felt too heavy for his mouth.

"What the fuck?" The laugh that escaped his throat sounded hysterical even to his own ears. "After all that shit at the police station? After the stitches?" Unconsciously, his fingers brushed the scar on his neck.

Han shrugged. "You think I don't notice?" He moved closer. "How your eyes follow her during sessions? And how you stare at me when you think I'm not paying attention? How your pheromones change when I'm around?"

Minho knew your story with Jisung—it was impossible not to know. In the corridors of the rehabilitation center, the whispers reverberated like poisonous snakes. How you, the beloved suburban teacher, had started frequenting Han's studio to cover old scars. How the tattoo sessions turned into confessions, then into coffees shared in paper cups, then into stolen kisses against walls covered in faded flash tattoos. How Han had restored each broken piece of you—not with empty words or grandiose promises, but with small gestures: americanos left in paper cups with your name always intentionally misspelled, colorful post-its hidden with silly cat drawings, nights spent simply holding you while the world collapsed around you. How he spoke of you with a kind of reverent love that made Minho want to vomit—because he only knew how to express affection through bruises and cutting words.

But if Han loves you so much, why is he here offering you up like a piece of meat?

"You're sick."

Han tilted his head. "Maybe. But so are you. And her..." He paused, letting the word hang in the air like smoke. "She wants us. Both of us."

"Spare me this bullshit," Minho spat the words. "You talk like she's your property. Like you can just throw me into your bed like a new toy and expect me to..."

"Don't be naive," Jisung interrupted, taking another step forward. Tattooed fingers found Minho's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "She has more free will than both of us combined. And knows exactly what she wants." His thumb traced Minho's lower lip, collecting a drop of blood where he had bitten too hard before bringing the same finger to his mouth. Minho almost moaned at the sight. "Just like I know exactly what you need. What all three of us need."

"You don't know shit about what I need."

"No?" Han teased, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Then why are you trembling?" His fingers moved up to Minho's nape, playing with the short strands there. "Why is your heart beating so fast I can feel it from here?"

"Tell me then," Minho challenged. "What does someone as fucked up as you think I need?"

"Mutual destruction," Jisung murmured against his ear. The cold piercing made Minho's earlobe twitch. "The kind that burns everything to the ground and rebuilds something better from the ashes. The kind that only three equally broken people can create."

A sound escaped Minho's throat. His hands found Jisung's chest. He didn't know if he wanted to push or pull, if he wanted to punch that irritating smile or taste it.

"You're poison," Minho whispered, his nails digging into Jisung's chest through the thin shirt. "The kind that kills slowly."

"And you," Han smiled against his skin, "are too thirsty to care about the antidote."

-----------------------------

Your diaphragm fluttered like a moth stuck to your ribs as you let out a deep breath. Main focus? Not choking on the saliva accumulated behind the gag.

There you were, tied and exposed like an avant-garde artwork on Minho's carpet. With the city lights watching your debauchery like voyeuristic stars, the floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of Seoul's horizon.

A muscle in your left thigh spasmodically contracted, making the rope sink deeper into your flesh. It was a map of knots—legs folded and bound in a way that made you think of the origami cranes Minho used to fold when he was nervous. The hemp rope bit at two precise points: just above the ankles, where the bone slightly protruded, and at the top of the thighs, where the flesh was softest.

The metal spreader bar kept your legs open. Your pussy was exposed to the cold air of the penthouse and to the hungry gazes of both men.

From this height, you could almost convince yourself that the entire city was watching. Your wrists were bound with soft leather cuffs (Minho's contribution, always valuing luxury when it came to his house and sex toys), connected to the bar in a way that made your shoulders project backward, presenting your chest.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It all started on one of those nights when the air conditioning failed intermittently, making an irritating noise that competed with the sounds of the city outside. A casual observation escaped your lips while you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling, alcohol uninhibiting your tongue and bringing up memories of Minho in therapy sessions—the way he would shrink in his chair, fingers drumming nervously against his knee, eyes jumping between you and Jisung like an anxious pendulum.

That specific night, you were sprawled on the Italian leather couch that Jisung so hated ("Who the hell spends so much money on furniture that sticks to your skin in summer?"), one leg hanging off the edge while the other rested on the back of the couch. The ice in your whiskey glass had long since melted, diluting the amber liquid into something more palatable.

Sitting on the Persian rug, Jisung's restless fingers were causing the strategically placed tears in his black jeans to further fray. The smell of caramel and cinnamon mixed with the residual aroma of cigarettes he had smoked earlier on the balcony.

"Jesus," you murmured, running your tongue over your dry lips. "Do you remember how he trembled? Standing there against the wall, with your hands on his neck..." Your voice failed for a moment. "Like a damn kitten lost in the rain. God, in all these years, I never saw Minho crawl back to anyone like that. Not once. I always... always gave him space to run when he needed it." A bitter laugh escaped your throat. "Never thought that after a whole year he'd still believe the door would be open, you know? That he'd still find..." You gestured vaguely with your free hand, searching for the right words. "...warm milk waiting."

Jisung tilted his head to the side, and he had that glint behind his eyes—that same look you saw when he was about to do a particularly painful tattoo on someone. "A kitten? What an... interesting choice of words, love."

You propped yourself up on your elbows so quickly that your head spun, alcohol and adrenaline making your heart stumble. Every vertebra in your spine screamed in unison as warning signals crackled through it. Shit. Shit. Shit."Ji, fuck, that's not what I—"

"Is that what you used to call him?" He interrupted while crawling towards you like a predator. "When he was between those thighs of yours?"

When Jisung's fingers found your ankle, your throat became parched. Just enough to remind you that he could, but not enough to cause pain, his thumb pressed the pulse point there.

"I bet it was." His other hand slid up to grab your knee, spreading your legs, "I bet you whispered 'kitten' when he had his tongue buried in that pussy of yours. That you told him what a good boy he was while he tasted you like you were the last drop of water in hell."

Since then, after each group therapy session, Jisung would extract your confessions like venom from a wound. Methodically deconstructed your sanity while fucking you against any available surface—the bathroom wall, the car's backseat, the kitchen table where you were supposedly meant to dine like normal people. He fed that part of you that you tried to keep locked away, the bitter and vindictive part that yearned to see Minho undone by both your hands. The words poured from your mouth unfiltered—how Minho's arrogant alpha became docile under your touch, the way his spine arched when you squeezed his throat ("Harder, please, harder"), how he begged for more when you fucked him with that ridiculously large purple dildo hidden in the second drawer of the dresser. How he moaned your name when you forced him to cum for the third time in a row, his muscular thighs trembling.

"Tell me more. How did he sound? How did he squirm? I want every dirty detail."

You swallowed hard. "He... he trembled. His whole body shook when he was too close. And he bit his lips until they bled, trying to hold back his moans. Sometimes... he cried."

"And when you tied him up?" Jisung played with the elastic of your panties, making small circles that made you squirm. "Did he fight against the ropes?"

"No," you answered, your voice breaking into a moan when he suddenly sank two fingers inside you. His thumb found your clit, making your thighs shake involuntarily. "He... God, Ji... he stayed completely still." Your nails dug into the leather couch when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Fascinating," Jisung laughed, the low sound reverberating against your skin while he felt you getting even wetter around his fingers. "The great alpha Minho, reduced to a submissive and desperate kitten. I can almost see him now, tied up and begging." His fingers sped up their rhythm, making you arch your back. "Do you think he'd do the same for me?"

"Ji..." You arched against him, your fingers burying in his dark hair, pulling slightly. "Please!"

His smile was pure sin against your skin. "Please what, love? Use your words."

Out of your mouth came the thoughts in a torrent of desperation. "Can we... Can we fuck him? It's just sex! One night!" Your voice trembled, betraying the desperation you tried to hide under a facade of casualness. "Just... just once. Please! I need to feel him again. I need to see you destroying him too."

"Shh..." His fingers continued their merciless assault inside you while his other hand rose to squeeze your neck lightly. "It's okay, baby. I thought you'd never ask. We'll make our kitten meow so pretty for us."

---------------------------------------------------

Minho didn't bother with his belt, fingers trembling slightly as he unzipped his trousers. He reached in, fabric rustling against skin as he freed himself from the confines of his designer boxers.

"You remember how she's good with her mouth, right?" Jisung's voice was honey-thick with anticipation as he sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, one hand absently tracing patterns on the armrest.

"God, yes." Minho's throat bobbed as he swallowed, kneeling beside your head. His fingertips ghosted over your temple, barely touching. "She doesn't just do it—she worships. Makes you feel like you're her whole fucking world." The muscles in his thighs twitched as he shifted closer. "You have no idea how I missed seeing such a pretty alpha like this."

"Show him then, darling.” Jisung commanded. "Show him what that mouth can do."

Minho's hand trembled slightly as he reached for the gag. The buckle clinked softly as he worked it loose, his breath catching when your lips parted automatically.

Honestly, Minho wasn't in the right headspace to think. After a terrible day at the hotels, he was thinking about how he would cherish every moment of this one night ever since he got home and was counting down the minutes until you and Jisung arrived. This last relapse. This final chance to have the duke in his hands before handing him over to Jisung definitively.

Due to the ball gag, your lips were red and swollen and glistening with saliva.

"There's that pretty little mouth," Minho breathed, tossing the gag aside. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, spreading the wetness there. "Fuck, I missed this view."

He still kept some photos of you on your knees in front of him, lips stretched around his cock. Most were carefully cropped, faceless and anonymous—they could be anyone's lips, anyone's throat. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the reality of you here, now, looking up at him with those eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of his. He slipped his thumb between your parted lips, a soft groan escaping when you immediately began to suck, your tongue swirling around the digit the way you knew drove him mad.

"Open that pretty little mouth for me," Minho purred.

Without thinking, you opened your mouth and offered a silent sacrifice. As Minho pulled his thumb away, the velvet-steel heat of his cock replaced the metallic tang of the freshly removed gag, leaving your taste buds free of its lingering effect. A single drop of precum pearled at the tip, and your tongue darted out to catch it, earning a sharp intake of breath from above.

Minho was longer than memory served, thick enough that your jaw already ached. The familiar weight of him filled your mouth inch by devastating inch, while his hand cradled your cheek with deceptive tenderness. Your eyes watered as he paused halfway, not from discomfort but from the overwhelming sensation of having him here again, real and solid and trembling ever so slightly.

A groan tore free from his throat as his head fell back.

"Fuck..."

Jisung laughed from where he sat, drinking his whiskey. "Yeah, well, wait until you feel her tight cunt again."

The crude words sent a bolt of electricity straight to your core, making you clench helplessly around nothing but want.

When Minho drew back, his cock dragged against your tongue in a slow withdrawal that had your toes curling against the carpet. He thrust forward with the same measure, but you could see the tension coiling in his thighs, the way his abdominal muscles jumped beneath smooth skin. His gaze raked down your body like physical touch, lingering on the slick folds. The sight alone made his cock twitch against your tongue.

He couldn't remember any of the times when he was the one who dominated—it was always you who reduced him to incoherent pleas against the silk sheets. It was always you who destroyed and rebuilt him as you wished, piece by piece, moan by moan, until nothing remained but a broken alpha begging for more. It was always you who made his wolf—the same one that growled at anyone who dared challenge him in the hotel corridors—wag its tail and lower its ears, submissive as a newborn pup. But now, with the ropes biting into your wrists and Jisung commanding your every breath, he couldn't deny that this was more exciting than any fantasy his feverish brain could have conjured during the long nights without you.

As his hips started to move more purposefully and each thrust struck deeper than the last, his fingers became more taut in your hair. The wet sounds of your throat working around him filled the room, punctuated by his increasingly ragged breathing. Your nose brushed against the dark trail of hair leading down from his navel with each forward motion, inhaling the musky scent of arousal and expensive cologne that was uniquely Minho.

"Look at how well she takes it," Jisung observed. The ice in his glass clinked as he took another sip. "Such a good little cocksucker. Always knew exactly how to make you fall apart, didn't she?"

Minho's response was lost in a choked moan as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside of his cock.

Words slipped out between clenched teeth as he cursed in Korean due to the slight constriction that caused him to hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, fuck, I can't—" His voice cracked as you swallowed deliberately around him again. "She's still so-nghh... So fucking good."

Just before heat filled your mouth, you felt him pulse against your tongue. With a broken sound that could have been your name, he came with fingers that squirmed in your hair, gripping you almost painfully. Oversensitive and quivering, you forced him through it, draining every last drop from his dick until he had to back off.

"Jesus Christ," he staggered back a little and panted. Between your lips and his softening cock, a thin strand of cum-infused saliva stretched before shattering. "I forgot how fucking good you are at that."

Jisung's low chuckle made Minho’s vertebrae tingle in anticipation. "Oh, we're just getting started, aren't we, kitten?" Approaching from behind Minho, his footsteps reverberated on the hardwood floor. "Now scoot."

Minho obliged with the grace of a chastised cat, crawling a few paces away on hands and knees, his designer slacks dragging slightly against the floor. Only then, through the post-orgasmic haze that clouded his vision like morning mist, did he notice Han had undressed. Perhaps he'd blacked out for a moment and lost track of time.

"You doing okay, baby?”

As Jisung pushed deeper than Minho had ventured, you nodded enthusiastically around his cock, your eyes watering. Hissing through gritted teeth, your throat tightened around him. Minho watched in awe as the music sent chills down his spine.

"Fuck yes, look at her take it." Jisung's voice was rough with pleasure as he gripped your hair tighter, the slight pain making your cunt clench. "Such a good little slut for us, aren't you?"

Minho couldn't tear his eyes away from where Jisung's cock disappeared between your swollen lips. A drop of your arousal slid down your inner thigh, and his own spent cock twitched with curiosity. Your hips moved restlessly, searching for friction that wasn't there, and the diamond plug caught the light.

Unable to resist any longer, Minho crawled between your spread legs. Your scent hit him like a physical force—familiar yet somehow more intoxicating than he remembered. His tongue darted out to catch that glistening drop of wetness, tracing it back to its source.

Both men shuddered at the moan you uttered around Jisung's dick. Jisung looked back over his shoulder, pupils blown wide with lust as he watched Minho worship your dripping cunt. That wasn't the damn plan, but you were making such beautiful sounds that it made him reconsider.

"Well, well," Jisung purred, rolling his hips forward until you gagged slightly. "Looks like someone's eager to taste what's mine." His free hand reached back to tangle in Minho's hair, forcing his face closer to your heat. "Go ahead then, kitten. Show me how badly you've missed this pussy."

Minho needed no further encouragement. His tongue delved deep, gathering your wetness like a man dying of thirst. Above him, Jisung's thrusts grew more erratic as your moans vibrated around his length.

"That's it," Jisung groaned, his grip tightening painfully in both your hair and Minho's. "Make her cum on your tongue while I fuck that pretty throat raw."

You clenched again as you gagged. The sight made both men groan in unison.

While two fingers twisted inside you, locating that secret place that caused lightning to dance behind your eyelids, his expert mouth plunged deeper. Legs shaking as they clamped around his head, your spine arched off the floor like a bow being drawn. The tendons in your neck strained against skin as you fought for breath around Jisung's length.

Minho's free hand traced idle patterns on your hip, thumb pressing into the hollow there as if to anchor you to earth. He remembered how you used to fight this—how your alpha pride would make you bite your lip bloody rather than surrender. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were lost in a haze of sensation, caught between Jisung stretching your throat and Minho's wicked tongue.

"I missed those little sounds you make," Minho whispered against your inner thigh while his fingers never stopped their relentless assault inside you. "Remember how you used to fight it? All that alpha pride... But look at you now, dripping all over my chin like the prettiest little slut."

Your only response was a desperate whimper around Jisung the vibrations making him curse and grip your hair tighter. Minho's palm spread across your lower belly, feeling the muscles there coiling tight as a spring. He could read the signs in your body like a familiar book - the flutter of your walls around his fingers, the way your toes curled against the carpet, the endless slick that coated his chin and neck.

It should be impossible, actually. You were an alpha, technically more prepared to lubricate less than omegas and less sensitive, but that was never an obstacle for Lee Minho. He had a talent and he was going to rub it in the blue one's face.

"There we go," he purred, voice rough with want as his fingers found that perfect rhythm. His tongue flicked rapidly against your clit. "Show Jisung what he's been missing. Show him how pretty you look when you fall apart for us. Bet he's never seen an alpha gush like this before."

Unstoppable and overwhelming, the pressure increased like a tsunami. As Minho's tongue pounded viciously against you and his fingers struck that spot with devastating accuracy, your thighs trembled uncontrollably. Above you, Jisung's grip tightened in your hair as he felt your throat contracting around him, your gag reflex working overtime.

"Holy shit," Jisung groaned, watching transfixed as Minho buried his face deeper between your thighs, his nose grinding against your button while his tongue worked magic. "Is she actually going to—?"

“Yeah. Just watch, blue.”

Your muffled scream cut him off as the dam finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the saliva on your chin as you came hard around Minho's fingers. He moaned against your pussy, the vibrations prolonging your pleasure as you gushed over his hand and face. You thrashing beneath him, totally undone and beautiful in your surrender, made his own cock harden once more. He didn't stop, though, working you through each aftershock until you were sobbing around Jisung's length, your whole body trembling.

"Such a good girl," Minho praised, his tongue darting out to catch another drop of your arousal from his bottom lip. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he swallowed, savoring your taste like a man starved. "Always so fucking perfect for us. Still tastes like honey and sin."

"You okay, baby?" Han's voice was velvet-soft as he ran a loving hand down the center of your chest, fingers trailing fire under your tied arms and over the plane of your stomach. "You never let me see you like this before."

"Never saw her absolutely drenched like this before, did you?" Minho wiped his chin with the back of his hand, though his face remained gloriously debauched. A drop of your arousal caught the light as it rolled down the column of his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. "Takes someone who knows exactly what buttons to push."

“Funny how you think you know her better after abandoning her for two fucking years, kitten."

Minho's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, catching the light like a cat's in the darkness.

"I may have left." A cruel smile played at the corners of his mouth. "But at least I knew how to make her fall apart properly when I was here. Every." His tongue clicked against his teeth. "Single." Another click. "Time." His head tilted to one side, challenging. "Can you say the same, blue boy?"

Han’s scent turned sharp enough to burn, filling the room like smoke. "Continue running your mouth like that," his fingers traced patterns on your hip, but his eyes were fixed on Minho's throat. "And I'll show you exactly how I can reduce your precious wolf to a whimpering mutt while I spank that pretty ass of yours until it matches your fucking pride."

Your throat burned deliciously as you swallowed, tasting the remnants of both men on your tongue. Both of them turned back to you as you shifted, the ropes biting into your wrists. "For fuck's sake," you managed to rasp. "Shut up, both of you. Less alpha posturing, more fucking. I didn't get on my knees and let you both use my throat just to watch you measure dicks like teenagers."

"Uhm... Sorry, baby." Jisung's chuckle reverberated through his chest. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, thumb pressing against your swollen bottom lip. "Since it's this dumb alpha's special day," he shot Minho a look that made the older alpha blush, "I'll let him decide if he wants his knot in your tight little ass or that pretty cunt. Okay?"

With eyes darting between your dripping core and the jeweled plug that winked teasingly between your cheeks, Minho's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"I want..." his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. "Both." His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to touch Jisung but not daring. "Please, I need both."

One sharp look from Jisung—just a slight narrowing—and a disapproving click of his tongue was all it took. It was like watching a proud statue fall apart—the change happened instantly. Minho's shoulders curved inward, the proud line of his spine melting into something more pliant. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Almost apparent, the aroma of cinnamon, lavender, and caramel wrapped itself around Minho like silk strands.

"Cunt," he finally whispered. "Please... I choose her pussy. Want to feel her squeeze around my knot like she used to."

A slow smile spread across Jisung's face. "Good kitten," he purred. His fingers tangled in Minho's dark hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. "Pussy it is. What do you say now?”

“T-Thank you.”

“There you go.”

Jisung's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked at the knots, each brush of his fingers against your sensitized skin making you shiver. With a whisper, the rope slipped away and gathered on the ground like discarded snake skin.

"Up you go, pretty thing," Jisung whispered as he assisted you in standing up, his palm extending over the small of your back.

Your legs trembled like a newborn fawn's, muscles still quivering from the aftershocks. The room swayed and tilted like a ship in a storm, reality blurring at the edges until Jisung's bruising grip on your hip became your only anchor to consciousness.

Leather greeted your heated skin with a shock of cold that drew a hiss from between your teeth. Jisung's knee pressed insistently between your thighs, spreading you wide enough that the muscles burned. Behind you, Minho's breath hitched in his throat—a sound caught between a whimper and a growl that made your inner walls clench with need. The jeweled plug shifted inside you as Jisung toyed with it.

"Such a greedy little thing," Jisung worked the plug in torturous circles. "Look at how she's clenching around it, Minho-yah. Both holes just begging to be stuffed full, aren't they?" The metal caught the dim light as he finally eased it free, your body fluttering helplessly around the sudden emptiness.

Cool liquid dripped between your cheeks in a meandering trail that made you arch and whine. Jisung's fingers followed, spreading it with the patience of a man who knew exactly how to drive you mad. His knuckles brushed against your entrance with each pass, a teasing promise that had your thighs trembling.

"Here." The single word carried enough command to make both you and Minho shiver.

You heard rather than saw Minho scramble to take the offered bottle, his desperate pants filling the room like a prayer.

"Such a good boy for me," Jisung praised, and you could feel the way Minho's entire being seemed to light up at the words, his scent sweetening with pleasure. "Now get that pretty cock ready. Our girl's been so patient, hasn't she? Look how she's dripping for us both."

With a roughness that sent thrills down your spine—because this was still Han Jisung, still your beautiful, commanding alpha—he manhandled you onto the couch. Your back hit his chest with enough force to drive the air from your lungs, his heartbeat a rapid drum against your shoulder blades. Slick and burning hot, he nudged at your entrance with an insistence that bordered on desperation.

"Gonna split you open so pretty," he growled against the shell of your ear, teeth catching the lobe hard enough to sting as he lined up. "Show our little kitty exactly how an alpha takes care of what's his."

A broken sound escaped your throat as he breached you, the stretch bordering on too much. Sweat gathered at your temples, rolling down to pool in the hollow of your throat where your pulse fluttered.

"Holy fuck," Minho whimpered, his fingers twitching against his thigh as he watched you take Jisung to the root.

As Jisung tipped the last of the whiskey to your lips, the amber liquid burned a trail down your throat, and the crystal tumbler clinked against your teeth. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" His hips rolled experimentally, the new angle making your vision blur at the edges. "But we're not done yet, are we, kitten? Show me just how badly you want to wreck her."

Minho's hands shook as they settled on your thighs, fingertips leaving crescent-shaped marks as he spread you impossibly wider. Already slippery and swollen from his previous attention, the head of his dick pressed against your folds, a string of precum binding him to your heated flesh.

"Please," your voice cracked around the word as your fingers dipped between your legs, spreading yourself. "Need you both. Need to be filled completely." You crooked your fingers, showing him exactly where you wanted him, clenching around nothing. "Show me you haven't forgotten how to make me scream, Min."

What was left of his control was destroyed by the use of his nickname.

As if he had run for miles, Minho's chest heaved as his breath came in tattered pants that muddled the air between you. In an attempt to resist the urge to simply pop a knot in midair, the muscles in his forearms tensed up.

"Such a needy little thing.”

Behind you, Jisung's hands slid up your ribcage, leaving trails of fire in their wake before cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked. "Stop teasing her. Unless you want me to take over completely and show you how it's done."

The threat in his voice made Minho's hips snap forward, the head of his cock finally breaching you. The stretch was exquisite—too much and not enough all at once, burning and perfect. Your walls fluttered around both men as they filled you completely, the dual sensation making your toes curl against the leather.

"Fuck," Minho choked out, his forehead dropping to rest against your sternum. "So tight. So perfect. Can feel you both. Can feel how well you take us."

Your fingers found their way into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you felt him tremble. The touch made him shudder violently, his hips stuttering forward another inch as a broken moan escaped his throat. "Move, kitty," you commanded softly, tugging at his hair just the way you remembered he liked.

Minho's eyes devoured every inch of you with an almost feverish intensity, pupils blown wide as his hips snapped forward with urgency.

"Please," he rasped, voice cracking like autumn leaves underfoot. "Need to—shit, need to mark you. Make you mine again." His canines lengthened visibly, pressing against his bottom lip until tiny droplets of blood welled up. His inner wolf screamed for possession as it thrashed against its chains—you ought to be writhing beneath him in his bedroom, your scent blending with the remnants that, two years later, still clung obstinately to his sheets, taking his knot until the memory of any other touch vanished.

"Such pretty begging," Jisung purred, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand snaked around to grip Minho's throat, thumb pressing just hard enough to make the older alpha's breath hitch. "But you forgot something important, didn't you?"

No kissing, no claiming.

The movement caught Minho's attention, drawing his gaze up to where Jisung watched them both with predatory focus. Something molten pooled in Minho's stomach as the younger alpha's lips twisted into that devastating half-smile.

Slowly, Jisung brought the crystal tumbler to his own lips, throat working as he swallowed. A single drop of amber liquid escaped, meandering down the sharp line of his jaw. Minho's tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips.

The realization hit him like lightning—Han Jisung, with his ocean-deep hair, lip piercing and cruel kindness, would slot perfectly into the empty spaces in his bedroom too.

What the fuck? No, this shouldn't be happening! The metallic taste of blood invaded his mouth as he bit his lip hard enough to hurt, ignoring how your eyes opened to stare at him when you smelled it.

Fuck! He already has a jack in his hands; he doesn't need another one! The thought burned like acid in his throat. Minho needs to think about other omegas and whores—the girl from Midnight Club with purple hair and tongue piercings, the bartender from Red Light with tribal tattoos running down his tanned neck, the cat-eyed dancer from Velvet Underground. He needs to fuck women and men until the scent of cinnamon and caramel is replaced by sweat and cheap sex, until every memory of you is buried under a pile of nameless bodies, until he erases you from the system, erases Jisung and that damn smile.

He needed to fuck.

"Open that pretty mouth for me, kitten," Jisung commanded, pressing the cool rim of the glass to Minho's lips. His other hand remained firm around the older alpha's throat.

Whiskey flooded Minho's mouth, burning sweetly as it mixed with your lingering taste on his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of your walls clenching around him and Jisung's possessive grip on his throat. The familiar pressure began building at the base of his cock, his knot threatening to swell—breed mate claim mine mine mine.

"Eyes on me," Jisung growled, his fingers tightening until crimson starbursts exploded behind Minho's eyelids. "Show me what a good boy you can be. Match my rhythm—yeah, just like that." His thumb ghosted over Minho's bottom lip, collecting the bitter cocktail of whiskey and copper.

The muscles in Minho's throat worked convulsively beneath Jisung's grip, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against calloused fingers. Sweat-stained skin caused his shoulder blades to shift beneath his curved spine as he struggled to keep up with Jisung's vicious pace.

"I'm sorry, sorry, baby." Minho choked out, his rhythm growing erratic as his knot began to swell, balls hitting your rim with all his might. "Please, Alpha, I can't—need to—"

"Not yet." Jisung's voice was sin incarnate, dark honey and broken glass. His fingers found your clit, drawing tight circles that had your vision blurring at the edges. "Our girl cums first. Show her what those pretty fingers can do and then you are allowed."

When you felt the stretch of both cocks filling you completely, Jisung's teeth at your throat, and Minho's deft fingers joining Jisung's at your clit, the world shrank to pure sensation. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through your system. You could feel yourself clenching rhythmically around them both, drawing them deeper as your body demanded to be bred.

"Holy fuck," Minho choked out, his hips stuttering as your walls milked his cock. "Can't—alpha, please—"

Jisung's growl vibrated through your back, possessive and commanding. "Cum for us, kitten. Breed her nice and deep."

As Minho emptied himself inside of you with a broken cry, the command in Jisung's voice caused his entire body to tremble, his knot to fully swell. You could feel him pulsing, filling you alongside Jisung's still-hard length. Your oversensitive walls fluttered around them both, and the sensation was almost too much, almost painful.

"Such a good boy," Jisung praised, his voice rough as gravel as his hips snapped up harder. His fingers twisted in Minho's hair, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. "Look at how well you take my commands, how perfectly you fill our alpha."

Minho whimpered, high and desperate, as Jisung's teeth scraped over his scent gland. His hips jerked helplessly, locked inside you by his knot as aftershocks of pleasure wracked his frame.

"Please," you gasped, writhing between them as Jisung's pace grew brutal. "Too much! I can't! Stop!"

Jisung's laugh was dark honey against your skin. "Yes, you can. One more for us, pretty thing. Show our kitty how good we make you feel."

His fingers found your clit again while Minho latched onto your breast. The dual sensation of his tongue laving over your nipple and Jisung's cock dragging against your g-spot had you almost screaming.

Minho's teeth grazed your nipple as he moaned around the sensitive flesh, his own oversensitivity evident in the way his thighs trembled. You could feel his knot pulsing inside you with each thrust of Jisung's hips, stretching you impossibly wider.

"That's it," Jisung growled, his rhythm growing erratic as his own knot began to swell. "Take it all, every fucking drop."

As pleasure verged on pain, your second orgasm struck like lightning, causing tears to fall down your cheeks. Jisung followed with a snarl, his knot locking inside you alongside Minho's as he marked you from the inside out.

For a moment, Minho allowed himself to collapse against your chest, his forehead pressed against your sternum as his breath came in ragged gasps. The steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath his ear was a siren song, beckoning him towards dangerous waters where dreams of permanence lurked like sharks beneath still waters.

"Fuck," he whispered, the word barely audible as his fingers traced meaningless patterns across your ribs. His tongue darted out to taste the salt of your skin, cataloging the way Jisung's and his scent had mixed with your natural sweetness to create something entirely new.

Behind you, Jisung's fingers carded through Minho's sweat-dampened hair, the gentle touch at odds with the possessive grip he maintained on your hip. "Stay still for me, both of you," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. "Let me take care of you while we're tied."

Minho's eyelashes fluttered against your skin as he fought back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to memorize this moment—the weight of you both, the way Jisung's fingers felt against his scalp, the lingering taste of whiskey and blood on his tongue. Wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe, hidden away with all the other pieces of himself he couldn't bear to examine too closely.

But he couldn't. Wouldn't. The rules were clear—no staying, no claiming, no letting himself believe this could be anything more than what it was. Even as his body betrayed him, cock still pulsing inside you as his knot kept you locked together, his mind was already calculating the fastest way to get you out of his house. Already planning his escape.

"Your heart's racing," you observed softly, fingers trailing down his spine in a touch so gentle it made him want to scream. Or sob. Or both.

Minho said nothing, but his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise.

It was like a game of Kemps, Minho thought hazily, watching the way moonlight painted silver stripes across your skin through his half-closed Venetian blinds. Just like those drunken Sunday afternoons in Chan's apartment. But now he had two jacks in his hand. Two cards that could ruin everything he'd built, destroy the fortress around his heart.

He could already imagine it—lazy Sunday mornings with the scent of condensed milk pudding filling his apartment, the sweet aroma mingling with fresh coffee and Jisung's scent. Jisung's steady hands marking his skin with permanent promises in black ink while vinyl records crackled in the background. You in the bathtub singing "Here Comes The Sun" off-key, bubbles clinging to your shoulders while Jisung lounged behind you reading his worn copy of Murakami, occasionally glancing up from the pages to watch him shave. Movie nights with takeout containers scattered across his coffee table, your head in his lap and Jisung's fingers absently playing with both your hair. The three of you tangled together in his Egyptian cotton sheets, no need for rushed goodbyes or careful distance, just the steady rhythm of shared breaths and intertwined heartbeats.

The domesticity of these visions felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with each passing second. Like his mother's pearls scattered across the bathroom floor, like the bitter taste of failure that had lived on his tongue since that day. The thought terrified him more than any business deal or angry investor ever could.

"When will I see you again?"

For the first time, he was the one that asked this question. His fingers trembled as he considered keeping his jacks instead of discarding them, letting them destroy his perfect game.

After all, sometimes the best strategy was letting your walls crumble, brick by carefully constructed brick, until nothing remained but the raw, beating heart beneath.

Kemps!

[arcade-writing]

Little Bunny

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: William Afton x AFAB! reader

Warning: age gap (reader is a grown adult), infidelity from William, pet names, minor breeding kink, Daddy kink, William is a shitty person, manipulation(?), rough sex, boss x employee, reader is unaware William has wife and kids (they're new to town and Will makes no effort to show he's married), reader is pretty oblivious, eating out, protected penetration, desk sex, minor pervert! William, scent kink, pussy slapping, Condom breaking, Praise kink, creampie, light degradation, he starts off 'nice' and then gets mean, alot of dirty talk, minor choking, overstimulation

Hey y'all... how's it been... I haven't posted a story since uh- April 17th, 2023 ....... yeah....hello again! I genuinely had the worst writers block & honestly horny block. Even when I started getting ideas and my thirsting back on, it was just never enough to write. I always hope when I start writing again it'll mean good news for my flow but, idk. (Also P.S I'm doing art commissions so if y'all wanna check that out you can right here , if you wanna, Just reblogging even if you're not interested would be really helpful, thank you!)

This is based off my own au so timeline may make no sense compared to the games and it is a rough idea - we're here for smut not lore. So please excuse the rough wages timeline wise. Just wanna say, I do not condone cheating or really, anything William does - but if you're crushing on a fictional character that kills kids you gotta accept he's gonna be scum. And sometimes you gotta embrace it a little.

You were one of the newer hires since the business has been getting slower, one too many crimes attached to the Pizzeria's reputation. Missing kid cases connected to the business but no proof to say it had any real causality to them. Bodies never found, no camera footage, solid alibis. Nothing. But that didn’t deter people. In fact, it seemed to bring a morbid curiosity. Some wanted to feel a sense of scandal by just being in the building. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone. Hearing their family diner was the talk of the town for so many headlines was horrid luck in attracting outside locals.

Unbeknownst to you, you were Williams best employee and to him, his little bunny, he was obsessed with you. But he knew had an image as your boss and a family man to uphold; but that didn’t stop him from trying to get a slice of your attention and getting what he wanted. He was a selfish man; he tried of the perfect suburb he’s crafted for himself. Who was he to deny his interest in the new hire? Sure you were younger but that just seemed to go in his favour.

Abit thankful the town, even in their grief, were still held by the morbid curiosity and tendencies to still come. The small boom in business makes it feel like how it has to be. Even gave him a reason to finally bring their newest attraction; a new band to play now he and Henry had to practically remodel themselves to centre stage. Freddy’s little band was minor show they pulled when they couldn’t perform or either of the springlock animatronics were out of commission. But if William can still keep this damn business afloat; he can give the spotlight to his newer creations.

The kids were finally done demanding your attention; it was a slow day since it was still early morning and most kids were at school. A band of kids flagged you down and insisted on giving you a makeover. Reluctantly, you agreed and you had two little girls who put chunky plastic jewelry they won or had on you. The boys immediately tried to put face paint on you, putting messy yellow face paint around your eyes and a bit of your cheek. You were so thankful when their parents finally coaxed their children to let you get back to work.

Huffing as you headed towards the back of the diner to get to the staff bathrooms, the back was still semi in construction. Loose wires here and there, some unpainted walls. Your coworkers said before the press and the police investigation the diner was expanding it’s building but with everything that happened; it’s all been delayed. Meanwhile, William saw everything through the security cameras, watching the chunky computer flicker through footage. Spotting you head towards the back, where the cameras were still buggy, quickly heading towards his office door and opening it; just so conveniently opening the door when you walk past and spotting you. Wearing that signature grin under his scruffy beard, his smile stretching uncomfortably wide. Stretching to his eyes but his stare never matched.

“Ah- little bunny, hopping away from the job, huh?” He teased softly, knowing full well what you were doing.

At the sound of his voice, you jump as a noise of surprise slips out from you.

“No! Oh no-! I just wanted to get this face paint off!” You quickly say, not wanting my boss to think you were trying to slack off. Sheepishly gesturing to the thick yellow face paint around your eyes as your cheeks, feeling them heat up with embarrassment. You looked so stupid. He couldn't help but laugh, that was the reaction he liked – seeing you becoming sheepish around him. He can feel his smile grow wider.

“We can’t have you not look the part.” He tuts, using the still semi wet face paint on your cheek and smearing it on the tip of your nose, making a heart shape with it , his thumb now smudged with yellow as he liked the bunny-like nose he painted on you. It surprised you, eyes widening as you grew an awkward smile as you adjusted your uniform. Your trainers are scratching the back of your other leg, feeling the purple knee high socks roll down due to it. “I guess we can’t.”

“Let’s fix that then.” William patted the doorframe of his office before gesturing you to get inside, he wasn’t going to have you scurry off to the bathroom. “Come sit, little bunny, let’s sort this face paint, hm? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this in public” He chuckled, moving out of your way so you could enter. “It’d be pretty embarrassing-“ William saw the way you squirmed at the idea of being considered an embarrassment to your own employer, deciding to give you some mercy as he finished his sentence. “-for you, wouldn’t it?”

You reluctantly agree, sighing as you walk into his office. Seeing the golden bunny plush on his shelf of memorabilia of his work. Trying to calm yourself down from your own prickling nerves, Fiddling with the wire bunny paper holder on his desk as you couldn’t help but chuckle at the obvious attatched he had to to the long eared creature. His eyes followed your every move; the bunny plushie was something important to him, something sentimental; it was a plush of the golden rabbit he once dressed up as. A victory statement to himself for what he got away with; he liked having trinkets of his achievements. He closed his office door, contemplating locking it but didn’t want to get too eager. Making sure the window was covered with the mini curtain; the more privacy the better.

He guided you to sit In the plush yellow chair beyond you, grabbing some wet wipes from the drawer of his desk. “Such a soft little bunny, can I touch?” He asked playfully, crouching in front of you as he turned his attention to your face, using a wet wipe to remove the paint smear from your nose first. Your nose scrunched at the sudden feel of something wet. The smell was always too clean – some just smelt acidic. When you sat down, you didn’t expect to get somewhat pampered, you knew William could be pretty hands on as a person but you didn’t expect this. He cleaned up the rest of your face without much issue, his movements were precise and a bit rough when it comes to rubbing off the face paint on your cheeks. The thicker spots and cheap paint make it cling to your skin abit more. When satisfied with the wipe and picking up the next wipe to start on getting the yellow around your eyes off, careful to avoid poking your eyes.

Peering down as he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your shorts; one of the reasons he loved the summer time. He got to see your pretty legs on show. He had the desire to run his finger down the length of your shorts, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he held himself back, just as he did with the urge to pull you away from the seat right now and on top of him.

Once he pulled away you gently tried to dab away some of the dampness with your hand. Your cheeks stinging a bit from his roughness. Smoothing out your clothes to look more presentable as you hummed. “Thank you, Mr Afton.” You say, just reaching down to sort out your fallen down sock.

“It's not a problem at all, I have to make sure everyone follows uniform code.” William shrugged, throwing the crumbled wet wipes into the bucket looking pin by his desk. You were so oblivious to how obsessed he was with you. Letting him wipe your face clean and didn’t even protest. He often wondered what excuses you made up in your cute little head to not dwell on his behaviour.

His focus shifted as he watched you reach down, beating you to it as he grabbed your ankle and propped your foot on his thigh, wiggling your sock back up until it reached up just under your knee, giving you a pat with his signature grin. You knew this wasn’t very professional but he always seemed so doting; you just took it as perhaps it was just his instincts to take care of others. Unaware of the horrific things he’s done. His persona to others as this caring, sweet businessman – blaming him snapping at workings as stress and then gifts his employees with free snacks or drinks to make up for it.

“Thank you again.” You say. Nodding to your now lifted sock as you look down at him, still crouched before you.

“I already said it's no problem, being too polite can be annoying.” William stated, his words sickly sweet. As if just giving some friendly advice. Rubbing your knee as his thumb caressed it. He knew this might be inappropriate but he needed this and you were such a good little employee; you wouldn’t speak up, you were a good little bunny that does what he asks. Always trying to please the people around you and fit in as the new hire of the place.

He could still see the faint remnants of yellow face paint around your eyes that he decided to leave alone, it made your eyes pop, it made you look even more pretty. He gently grabbed back of your hand, holding the palm upright and used his index finger to draw his initials in the centre; marking you as his in a way you’d never know, his other palm was hovering over yours gently. He leaned in and made sure the blinds of the window were still shut; gently kissing your hand.

Which you, in turn, jumped at the kiss – the giggle you let out at the ticklish feel of his finger drawing on your palm cut off by the surprise you felt. Feeling the scruff of his beard on your skin as your lips part. “oh-!” Your brows scrunch, unsure how you felt about him doing that as you chewed on my bottom lip. One half enjoying the attention; enjoying to be doted on and his nice words but you knew that wasn’t what a boss should do. Glancing back over to the door; perhaps it was time you went back to work now you were all cleaned up-

His smile grew a little wider as your giggle was cut off. Seeing you glance at the door, he immediately grasped your hand with both of his, adjusting to rest on one knee as his aching legs screamed at him. "sorry, I just wanted to show my thanks, you’re such a sweet bun.” He lied so easily, quickly trying to dismiss your concerns. “That was abit forward, wasn’t it? I can be like that, how I was raised and all.” When he said how he was raised, a part of you felt a little guilty for being so quick to rush off. Assuming so poorly of his actions; not like an older man hasn’t kissed your knuckles goodbye before without ill intent.

“oh..okay.” you reluctantly accept. But you were still worried you may be enjoying his attention a little bit too much. Your stomach twisting, remembering you shouldn’t be accepting this but..it felt nice. My brows scrunched and twitched as your brain spun. It wasn’t like he wasn’t an attractive man, abit scruffy but he always seemed so cheerful and wanted to make others happy. Leaning into the plump back of the yellow office chair as my hands continued to fiddle with my work shorts. My brain screaming two different things at me it kinda just made me freeze. Go still until my brain could decide what it wanted.

William loved seeing the innocent expression in your face as he looked up at you. You seemed so helpless. You were his. The fact you were allowing this, excusing it told him all he needed to know. His mind was always the eager opportunist. How far could he really push this? His eyes falling to your ankle, the fact your foot still rests on his bent knee, you made no move to remove him or yourself. His smile turned sly as he bent closer to your foot, beginning to untie the knot of your trainer.

“It's alright, it’s okay.” He shushed softly, doing his best to come off soothing when his mind was running wild. One hand went to your thigh, pushing your hand from its continuous fidget as he smoothed his palm along until the fabric was bunched up as high as it could, exposing half of your thigh to him. His other hand taking advantage he had big hands to massage, squeeze and caress along your calf down to your ankle. “Those shoes still look new, bet they pinch.” His brow raised, giving the tip of your shoes a pinch.

“They do… sometimes.” You answer quietly, becoming a deer in the headlights at the feel of his palm against your thigh. Your heart rate immediately spiking as it thumped like a drum in your chest. Your cheeks growing warmer as you leaned completely against the chair. Hands going to the sides of the cushion, gripping into them. Unable to stop the soft sigh that escaped you at the feel of your aching calf being messaged.

He slipped your shoe off as it landed on the floor with a thud. “Poor little bun.” He tutted with mock sympathy, rubbing your ankle and the heel of your foot. Repeating the same for your other leg as he put your trainers to rest by the plush seat. Swapping hands to soothe your legs.

The scruffy man looked at your work shorts, an idea coming to mind. “Bet uniform can be such a pain at times, The summer heat must be doing you no good- they could cause chaffing, we should get you changed into a size that looks more comfortable.” He cooed a little more, trying to convince you by disguising it as concern. He knew you weren’t stupid; oblivious but not stupid. You couldn’t make decisions for yourself, He needed to do it for you.

Your breathing immediately stuttered. Your hands raised to your chest to fiddle with your own fingers. “I don’t know- I don’t think you-“ The words got caught in your throat as your eyes kept glancing at the door. Your mind was screaming to get away and not indulge but my body felt like putty when you felt your muscles relax from his caressing and firm hands. He had such lovely strong hands…you couldn’t deny you’ve thought about them before. He made machines, sure with Henry, but he obviously knew how to use them for intricate wiring and metal work. Your body was absolutely relishing this man's hands being on you.

“That’s right, you don’t think and that’s okay, let me do it for you.” He chuckled, his voice soothing but his words had some bite. A part of you made you whimper at his words; you didn’t mind the sound of that. Letting him think for you. His signature smile stretched high on his cheeks, moving your legs over his shoulders as he was still bent on one knee. Grabbing your work shorts, unbuttoning them and shuffling them down, abit awkward with how you were sitting but nothing that would deter him. You gasped as you didn’t know if you should lift your hips or just stay still. Sliding off your shorts as he hummed happily at the sight of your skin now properly exposed to his wandering eye, his tongue clicking when he saw you press your thighs together.

“Now, now, no hiding from me, I need to check if you have any chaffing.” He scolded, lying through his teeth with glee. Easily prying your thighs away from each other and forced your legs apart to ‘inspect’ your smooth skin. Grinning wider when he saw the little wet patch on your underwear, a shiver running through him. Oh you really like him.

You immediately tried to hide your face behind your hand. One hand covering your crotch to hide the shameful evidence of your arousal. Whimpering a little as your feet dug into his shoulder blades a little, your breathing getting heavier embarrassment. Trembling as you couldn’t bring myself to peek at what he was doing. Feeling as if you were in a dream; there was no way this was happening. But everything felt too real, too much it was making your nerves feel like they were being electrocuted.

“How many times will I repeat myself with you? No hiding.” His voice suddenly grew huskier, snapping at you. Firmly grasping your wrist as he shoved it away from your crotch. He wasn’t going to tolerate having to say the same thing no matter how cute you were. “Look at you, getting wet just for me…have I been a bad boss? Neglecting my sweet bunny? Does that spot need attention?”

He licked his teeth, his brows knitted from his previous annoyance but his voice dripping like honey as he looked down at you. Not wanting to wait for your response. Grinning wildly and staring directly at your hidden face. The fact he could get you this riled up and helpless in his presence excited him beyond belief. He could hear the sound of your little whimpers, sliding your underwear gently to the side to attend to that slick cunt of yours.

“there, there.” Giving your vulva a wet kiss as he shakily inhaled your scent, shuddering at finally getting to sniff it beyond finding left over clothes in your locker. Finding your panties in there was a jackpot, how angry and red his cock was after stroking it so mercilessly to your sweet scent.

Immediately, you let out a scandalised gasp. Your hands shot up and grasped the back of the plush yellow chair. Eyes wide as you shuddered, “Mr Afton-!” You squeal out as my feet kick and dig into his back as my toes curl beneath your socks.

He loved that response, that high-pitched little squeal you let out as your body became the epitome of vulnerability in his arms. He had to hold in a moan of his own, his heart feeling like it was going to explode in his chest and his cock straining in his pants.

“Shhh my little bunny, it’s okay, let me clean you up.” He shushed in a sing-song tone, using those hands to firmly press your legs still. Making sure you couldn’t squirm away. He huffed in your scent a little, giving more kisses along your wet folds, Each kiss leaving a wet smack. Letting his tongue trace along with the smallest licks, just teasing you.

You whine, back arching as your hands grasp and clutch at the back of the chair as your eyes squeezed shut tight. Your legs twitching and digging into his shoulder blades as you let out cracked whimper. “Mr Afton.. please..” you weren’t even sure what you were begging for – for him to stop and be professional? Act like it never happened. Or for him to keep going. You liked what he was doing – it’s been so long since someone’s given you attention like this, most guys only wanted their turns. Feeling the scratch of his beard on the inside of your thighs, prickling your sensitive skin.

William kept kissing and sucking gently, burying his nose into your heat as he peered up at you as he gripped your thigh and hip to keep you still. Only parting to coo more encouraging words at you. Wanting you to let go and be a good bunny. To be his. “You’re doing so, so good my little bunny.” Feeling no guilt to using his control over you as he licked a long strip up your pussy. “Let your boss take care of you, it’s what I’m here for.” He mocked sweetly.

It made your stomach flutter and twist; your eyes unable to peek, keeping them eyes shut tightly, as you sighed. Relaxing and sinking against the chair as you trembled. Your body is unable to deny how good his mouth felt. He let out a pleased hum that vibrated against your folds, his hand smoothed up your hip and pushed your button-up shirt up your stomach to keep it out of his way.

“There, that feels better, I think. Doesn’t it?” His tongue left a trail of wetness where he licked and sucked. Nuzzling his face into your pussy as he moved his head side to side, groaning as he inhaled deeply your sweet scent. He loved the sound of your whimpers, your soft little whimpers. How sensitive and responsive you are to his mouth. Groaning against your hot flesh as his other hand smoothed from your thigh, pulling your underwear more out of the way to make sure he could pamper your cunt with his kisses. His tongue prodded at your entrance as he kneeled fully, letting his nose nestle and bump against your clit.

“..yes..” you breathed out, one hand dropping from the gripping the back of the seat, your hand instinctively grasping his well kept hair. Brown and grey strands in your fist as your eyes fluttered open. Your hips bucked and squirmed with his continuous kisses and licks. Your lips falling open and unable to close them. His breath hitched at the sudden grasp of his hair, a low groan leaving his lips. “My little bunny wants more.” He hummed, his face moving to the side as he sat back a little to watch your face.

The way you bucked and squirmed, he couldn’t help but feel that satisfaction of knowing he was the one to make you do so. Seeing you grasping his hair as a sign to keep going. He knew he could hold you down and continue to pleasure you to his heart’s content. But he wanted to see how vulnerable you could become as he leaned back, his warm breath blowing over your sensitive spot. He wanted to see how far he could push you, to break you out of your shell as his eyes gazed up at you. Hastily burying his face back into your weeping cunt as he kissed up and began hungrily sucking on your clit. Feeling it throb against his tongue as it traced the letters of his name against it. Shaking his head as he did as he slurped noisily.

William pulled back for a small gulp of air, not wanting to part from your perfect cunt for too long. “How does that make you feel, sweetheart?” He teased, eyes squinting as his thumb caressed your tummy. “your boss making you feel so good, sucking on your clit like that?”

You mewl, tugging on his hair as your back arches from the constant attention to your sensitive bud. Just his breath fanning against it was making you shiver. “Yes- yes sir-“ but once those words left your mouth he tutted, shaking his head as he pulled back more. Frowning as he licked his now glossy lips. “No, no, bunny that’s not how you address the man eating out your pussy, now is it?"

“…n-no?” You stammer with confusion, already whining at the loss of his mouth. Tilting my head as I gave his hair another tug, wanting him to continue but all that did was make him slap your clit. The sting and suddenness made you jump with a yelp. A moan fluttering out your throat. Your legs squeezing at the side of his head, your knees bumping into his ear.

“No is correct.” William hummed, proud of your answer, caressing where he slapped as he raised a brow. “You should call me daddy, that sounds nicer, right? You can call me that, can’t you?” He coos, tilting his head as his nose crinkled as his smirk grew. Expectant eyes watching your every move, seeing the embarrassment grow on your face. Your lips opening and closing as you just let out a shaky breath. Slowly nodding but that earns you another slap. You let out a high pitched whine at your poor bud getting smacked.

“Use your words.” He ordered, his voice only growing firmer, this time not giving any soothing caress to the small sting. “yes…daddy” the word falls off your tongue, making your stomach twist and flutter. It felt strange but it didn’t feel wrong. Despite your hesitance he rewards it by bending back down, lavishing your sex with kisses as muffled praises left his lips.

Williams tongue was long And thick but grew a bit more slender to the tip of it. It dragged and lapped at your wetness as he groaned. His hand on your thigh, adjusting your leg on his shoulder as he kept his face pinned to your heat. The hand holding up your shirt tugging it up after unbuttoning a few of the bottom ones. Pulling the edge of the shirt towards your mouth and you bit down. Holding the shirt with your teeth as you slightly drooled against the fabric. With his hands free, his thumbs now on either side of your fluttering hole to keep you open. Grunting as he prods his tongue into you, fucking you with it as he sucks and slurps hungrily at your arousal. You gasp, shaking as your hands tug on his hair and try to pry his ravenous tongue from your sloppy cunt. It was too much- groaning deep into the fabric between your teeth as your eyes fluttered.

William plunged a finger inside you alongside his tongue. Only pulling back to speak. “don’t fucking try to stop me. You can handle it.” He immediately went back to work as your head flew back. Your legs are tightening and kicking against his shoulder blades. “I’m gonna-“ you whine, breathing as shaky as the rest of you as you squirmed. Feeling yourself dangle right at that edge as his finger hastily pumped in and out of you. Getting closer and closer – feeling so good- just as you reached right on that edge he suddenly pulled away, liicking his lips. Making you cry out in protest, eyes wide.

“Daddy- no- I was almost there!” You pleaded. Too needy to be embarrassed by the title for him as you gave another kick to his shoulder blade with the heel of your foot. He just tutted and shook his head. "No, you're only gonna cum around my cock and only then.”

Your eyes widen. Breath hitching as words caught in your throat making the shirt drop from your mouth. Unable to even try to speak as he suddenly pulled himself from in between your legs and grasped your hips, yanking you up. Bouncing you in his arms with a strained grunt as he carried you over to his desk. Grabbing what files he could and shoved it to the side – letting anything else be swiped off without care. Placing you down on the edge of the desk with a small thud. You hissed slightly at the small smack of your rear against the old hardwood. He unbuttoned your shirt at your chest, opening it up as he grinned at the sight of your chest.

“Daddy’s waited so long to play with these.” He breathed out, moving your shirt more out of the way to keep your chest exposed. Squeezing and groping at it, pressing against the perk of your nipple. Caressing it with the pad of his thumb as he hummed.

Your breathing hitches, puffing your chest more into his big hand, feeling dizzy from the way it felt like he was engulfing you. His fingers long but still thick, palm rough with work and age. You grasped his wrist as he kneaded at your chest as you glanced down and saw a prominent tent in the front of his pants. A small wet spot already formed from his own excitement.

Noticing where you were looking he used his other hand to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down to his ankles along with his boxers. Letting his cock spring free as it smacked against his yellow shirt, the sticky tip just smearing pre on it as it drooled. Twitching as your eyes were glued to it. He’s longer than any of the guys you’ve tried before, thicker too but not too much. “O-oh shit…..” You breath out with wide eyes, reaching out your hand to grasp it but he stops you. “Ah ah- no Bunny, you’ll make me cum if you do that, let me feel you cum around me first.”

You nod, and yelp at another smack to your poor throbbing clit. Covering your mouth to muffle your surprise as you panted. Removing your hand to respond as he raised an expecting brow. “Yes daddy-“ with a satisfied hum he strokes your tummy as he pushes your back more against the desk. Ready to align himself with your hole, his eyes watching the way it clenches at nothing in anticipation. Sticky with your arousal and his spit. Eager to feel exactly how good you’ll make him feel-

“Wait-! Do you have a condom?” You ask with a flurry of sense, so caught up in the whirlpool that was William and your need you almost forgot. Sure you’re already on birth control but you always preferred to be safe.

At the question, William huffed quietly. Forcing his uncomfortably wide smile back as his hand twitched. A flair of annoyance rising at your request but he wasn’t looking for any risk to this. As tempting as knocking you up sounded, he couldn’t handle another snot faced kid. Three was more than enough. Besides, he can’t let anyone find out about this. So with a nod, he walks around the desk and goes through the top draw where he spots a purple condom. You immediately felt relief upon seeing the packet; confused why your boss has it but thankful nonetheless.

Once rolled on he resumed his position between your legs as he stared down at you. Licking his teeth as his brow twitches, his smile still perked on his lips. “Now you’re gonna take daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy, fuck me!”

“Dirty bunny.” He chuckles with surprise. William lines his cock with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your clit. Tapping the head of his cock against it before dragging it down your folds. He grinned as he suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand to his dick and curled your fingers around it. “You want it? Then guide it in, bunny, be good for me.�� You did just that, aligning it perfectly, your hips flexing as your legs adjusted at his hips and slid down on the head of his cock.

Immediately, Your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the stretch. “Oh-! You’re so fucking tight.” He thrusts a couple of times, fighting the resistance. He desperately held back the urge to cum, groaning as he slid in and out. Sawing himself into you as he worked you open with his cock. You already felt so much better than his wife. You didn’t bitch at him or refuse to let him eat you out. You didn't say no to him. And you’re so tight- squeezing his dick like you owned it. And William wasn’t a man to be owned but he could definitely get use to your pussy hugging him whenever he needed you.

His cock buried deep Inside of you as he eased in, nestling right against that certain spot. Making you let out a strained moan, eyes rolling back. “Easy, Bun, easy-“ he hushes, his stubble tickling your ear as he hunches over you. His teeth tugging on the shell of your ear as he let out a husky chuckle.

William paused in his thrusts, giving you a moment to fully adjust. Wanting you to become more needy as you squirmed. Rolling your hips as you tried to grind against him. Seeing your pathetic state, he gave you a second before he thrusts into you once again, His grip on your hips were tight. The first squeal of your wetness from his movements made him let out a rumbling groan from his throat. Pumping into you as he nodded his head. The resistance of your tightening walls growing less and less as his fingers dragged and kneaded into your hips. “Take it-take it! Fucking take it!” Skin slapping against skin, his grip on your hips as your body dug into the desk underneath you, you kept your hand to your mouth to muffle you.

Williams thrusts were getting faster now, his thighs smacking into yours as yours, your legs squeezing his hips which only pushed him closer, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, the desk creaking. Everything building together with his rugged breaths, your muffled whines. His eyes pinned you down as one hand snaked up your body to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly as his cock kissed your g-spot as he arched his back.

It all made your stomach clench, that tightening knot in your gut approaching quicker, clamping down on his cock with every stroke. “Gonna cum on my cock, bunny? Making you feel good?” he taunted, tilting his head as you desperately nodded your head. Trying to respond back to him as your voice cracked and your moans overcame any words you attempted to speak. “Cum on it, squeeze it tight, come on.”

“I’m gonna- ohh- fuck-!” you squeal, your eyes rolling as your back arched, panting as your hand tightened over your quivering lips. You could see his hair messy and no longer neatly slicked back, the part you tugged on and the sweat on his forehead ruining his hair gel made the tuffs sweep over his forehead. His brows tightly knit in concentration. “cum on my cock, little bun, go on.” He grunted, keeping up pace as his hand tightened around your neck. Just beginning to steal the air from you as your fluttering eyes remained rolled. Bucking your hips furiously as your orgasm crashed over you. Whimpering as came, and you came hard. Practically choking his dick as you did. Stars littering your voice as you whine, tugging on his wrist to let go of your neck.

With a groan he let go of your neck but his fingers twitched. Itching to do it again. He slammed his hand right by the side of your head as he kept a tight grip on your hip. His thrusts getting shaky and erratic.“Fuck, bunny I’m about to cum-“ he could feel the warm of your heat. Feeling the friction from the condom against his sensitive tip. Feeling it roll and shift, chewing on his bottom lip as you whimpered and whined.

“That’s it, Bunny, You gonna let Daddy breed you? Fuck you full of my cum, I bet you want that-“ he was cut off by you clenching around him. Groaning as he shuddered. “Ooh…Well your body definitely likes the idea.” He gleefully chuckled. Shaking his head as he kept fucking you. Chasing that high of his impending release.

You moaned louder, your hand slightly uncovered from your mouth to try and let you breathe and William sneered. Thrusting into your tight cunt brutally. “Shut up! Are that much of a slut you want the whole building to hear?” he speaks through gritted teeth, you immediately let out a whine, shaking your head. Your words are shaky as you quickly deny being a slut but he just licked his teeth. Tilting his head.

“Oh really? You're not? Why do you think you’re in this position then, huh?” He just grunts as he continues thrusting. “you’re a slutty bunny, just letting your boss undress you- letting him eat your pussy-” William groans, his sentences getting chopped as he panted. Bullying his cock into you over and over. “Letting him fuck you, this what you wanted, you let this happen – you’re a slut.” His words made you whimper, the truth stung but your mind was so foggy, lost in the haze of your pleasure, you could barely think. Just trapped being a squirming mess as he fucks you.

“Don’t whine, don’t act like it’s not true.” William scolded, sliding his hand just on your lower stomach, pressing down where his cock is inside you. “That’s my cock deep inside you, gonna deny that too?”

You shake your head. “No daddy-“ your response is immediately reward with him patting your hot cheek abit roughly as he nodded. “That’s right, can’t deny it – the sound of your wet pussy squelching and wetting my cock is more than enough evidence, isn’t it?"

“Yes daddy.” Your words came out slurred, nodding as your lips kept parting as you drooled. Eyes fluttering as you squirm and arch as your second orgasm is forced out of you as you squeal. Your feet digging right into his ass as overstimulation shocked you. Hiccupping as your poor pussy fluttered around him, each stroke of his cock against your walls made your veins spark.

That was all he needed, cursing under his sharp breath as he squirted thick ropes. Just registering how he painted your inner walls. His glues just catching the sight of his cum sticking to him and smearing on the lips of your pussy. A spark of satisfaction grew in him but also annoyance. Making sure to fuck his cum more into you as he tore his eyes away, you were too blissed out to even realize. Overstimulation already making your brain a mess. Shaking as you felt warmth flood up to your stomach.

He slowly eased out, looking down once again. “Oops-“ he says almost lazily, too riddled with euphoric high to pretend he cared. Looking at the torn condom, ripped and stretched at the thick head of his dick. His cum stitching to your cunt with a thick string. Your juices absolutely soaked him, making the rubber shine under the lights of his office. Panting as he pushes back his messy hair. “Well, this is one of those things you risk when you’re a slut, isn’t it? Accidents happen.” He tuts, having enough sense to fight off the smirk wanting to raise on his lips.

You see the broken condom and your stomach twists. For a moment you believe your heart stops as you watch him, tug off the broken condom as he throws it into the bin. Letting out a pleased hum as he grasps his dick, smearing his cum and your juices on your thigh to clean himself up. Raising his hand to suck on his finger and groans; enjoying the taste of you once again. Tugging his pants back up, he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out some crumbled cash. “Here, bunny, I should take responsibility.”

With a chuckle William puts the cash in your trembling hand, leaning down to your cheek to give it a few doting kisses. Stroking your hip as he did. You whined when he pulled away, you were completely and utterly fucked. Your hand clenching around the dollar notes as you stare up at him. Your brain was utterly turned into putty. He grabbed your underwear from the floor, wiping his cum from your sloppy cunt but he didn’t return them. Putting your underwear inside his desk drawer, with a smile.

“Let’s get you presentable, I’ll send you home early, ain’t that a win?” He teased, giving your cheek another kiss before he grabs your clothes from the floor. Helping you redress and steadied you back on your feet.

“I’m hoping this won’t be our last time, bunny, you were perfect.” He reassures, squeezing your hands as he nuzzles his nose against yours. You blinked as you nodded, heart racing as you leaned against him. On your tiptoes to reach his height with a small smile. “Really?” You ask, voice shaky and quite. William nodding as he strokes your knuckles, giving your forehead a kiss.

“Go on, Bun, hop along!” He smacks your ass as he guides you out of his office. You stumbled out and tried to make yourself more presentable as you smoothed out your uniform and fixed a few buttons. You could hear your blood rushing through your ears as you went out of the pizzeria in a daze. Your brain is unable to stop the spinning wheel of his heavy breaths. His thrusts that left you still aching. Clutching the dollars tighter as you knew where you’d be going before heading home.

[lustfulslxt]

hi yk that one vid of matt where its like boston matt and hes scratching his arm with his phone in his hand... can you make a fic where matt and y/n fuck in the bedroom and then they walk out into the kitchen and they start cooking dinner or something and have y/n make the video

Wind Down - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : nsfw

--

After a long week of seemingly never-ending work, I am finally able to make my way to my boyfriend's house. He's who I always run to when I have a rough day, so after the treacherous week I had, he's exactly what I need. Since we're both free this weekend, he invited me over for a little relaxing slumber party.

We both just finished school, and since summer started, we have been so busy with working and trying to stack money before moving forward with our careers. Saying that, the last couple of months have been exhausting, neither of us really having a well-deserved and much needed break. So, when he texted me and told me to come over, and that he's got snacks and movies for us, I was beyond ecstatic.

Within ten minutes of leaving my house, I'm pulling up to his. I park beside their minivan and grab my overnight bag, quickly making my way through the back, towards the backdoor. Before I can even open it, it's opened for me, revealing Matthew.

"Hi, princess." He smiles, grabbing my hand and pulling me into him for a kiss.

"Hey, baby." I smile, planting another sweet kiss on his lips.

"Ugh." He groans, pulling me into his arms, squeezing me. "I've missed you."

"I know." I whine, enjoying his warm embrace. "Everything's been so chaotic. I was thrilled when I got your text."

He grabs my bag and ushers me upstairs, following close behind me. "Of course. I knew we both have this weekend off and I just want to spend it with you."

Once we get to the kitchen, I interlock our hands and place my head on his shoulder. He's always been the best boyfriend, and I'm so thankful for him. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, with our hands still connected, and walks us to his bedroom. There, on the bed, are all of our favorite snacks and drinks.

I turn to him with a huge grin, "You're seriously the best. What would I do without you?"

"Simply cease to exist." He jokes, earning a playful shove from me.

We both giggle, me skipping to the bed while he sets my bag aside and gets his TV ready to play a movie. I gather all the snacks up and push them aside, making room for both of us to cuddle.

"Are you hungry?" He asks, joining me on the bed.

I shrug, "Eh, not really. But if you are, we can eat something real quick."

"No, I'm all good. I was just making sure." He replies, getting under the covers with me.

He lies on his back, me curled up at his side with one of my thighs wrapped around him. I place my head on his chest, and watch him flicker through Netflix, looking for a movie to watch. His scent fills my nostrils, making me feel all warm and giddy inside. He always smells so good. I slip my left hand under his shirt, resting it on his abdomen, rubbing soft circles just how he likes.

"God, I've missed you." He mutters, kissing the top of my head and pulling me closer to him.

He sets the remote down on his nightstand table and turns to face me. Closing his eyes, he pulls me flush against him and buries his head in the crook of my neck.

"No movie?" I question, closing my eyes and indulging in the warmth he's providing.

"Not unless you really want to watch something." He says, his eyes fluttering down at me. "I just wanna lay here with you."

I smile and place a kiss on his lips, burying my face in his chest. "That's completely fine by me."

He grins, snuggling impossibly closer to me, both of us finding solace in one another. His hand sneaks up my shirt and rubs my back up and down, the heat of his hand causing goosebumps to spread across my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck and hike my leg up higher, desperate to be as close as possible. Time like these, I just want to live in his skin.

"I love you, Matty." I whisper against his cheek, the side of my face now against his.

"I love you more, pretty girl." He responds, planting his lips on mine.

It was a soft, but meaningful, kiss. His lips always move so tenderly against mine, both of us savoring the feeling it never fails to bring. We pull away, cheeky smiles adorning both of our mouths, before going back in. Our lips blend perfectly, moving together in a delicate and loving manner. My hands tangle in his hair, massaging his scalp the way I know he loves.

He pulls away and looks me in the eyes, quickly putting our mouths back together more desperately than before. His hands continue to roam along my back, my shirt riding up the higher he goes. One of his hands reaches the back of my neck, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues glide over each other with ease before he's exploring my whole mouth with his. After a moment, he pulls away, tugging my bottom lip in the process. It didn't take long for the heat to grow in my core, suddenly needing him in another way rather than just cuddles.

"You're so perfect, baby." He groans against my lips, brushing the hair out of my face.

"Matt." I breathe in a slightly whiny voice.

His eyes stare into mine, and I know he can read it all over my face. I need him so bad. He gently flips me onto my back, hovering over me and putting our lips together again. His hands slip up my shirt once more, softly gripping my waist and caressing my curves. It only takes him a second to decide to remove my shirt altogether. I slightly lean forward, assisting him in removing the piece of clothing. The moment my shirt hits the floor, his is also on the way down.

I pull him back down to me, our lips meeting in a feverish and heated kiss. My hands run up his bare torso, feeling the definition of his body beneath my fingertips. He turns my head to the side a bit, his lips trailing down my cheek and to my neck. He flicks his tongue along the sensitive skin, latching his lips around it. Nibbling and sucking all over, leaving me needy and breathless. He continues working his mouth lower, now peppering open mouthed kissed along my shoulder and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake.

His hands never leave my body once, him straddling one of my legs with his knee pressed directly into my core. The small gesture is enough to have me clenching around nothing, excited to be filled. I can feel his dick growing, the bulge pressing against my inner thigh. I loop my fingers in the waistband of his pants, attempting to tug them down. He reluctantly pulls away from me, leaning back to remove the rest of his clothing. I do the same, both of us tossing them aside with our shirts.

The sight of his erect dick, his tip red and secreting the slightest dribble of precum had my mouth watering. His hands engulf my breasts, kneading them as his mouth takes turn sucking each nipple. The way his hands and mouth work against my skin, and the feeling of his dick brushing against my clit, has me softly moaning beneath him.

"Please, Matt." I moan out, slightly lifting my hips to grind against him.

"I know, baby, I know." He assures, pulling back.

He wraps his hand around his dick, stroking up and down, closing his eyes at the sensation. He leans forward, sliding his member in between my slick folds, coating it with my arousal. He aligns himself with my entrance, slowly pushing in just enough for his tip to be buried in me, before he's pulling back out.

"Don't tease." I whine, my hands clenching the sheets beneath us.

He slightly chuckles, pushing back in, this time all the way. I gasp, feeling the hard muscle deep inside me as he bottoms out. He stills, letting both of us adjust, his teeth biting on his bottom lip from the pleasure. After just a moment, he begins pumping in and out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut, my back arching off the bed. His strokes are slow, but hard, my boobs shaking with every movement.

He reaches forward, gripping plush skin on my chest, pinching the sensitive buds. Soft moans emit from my mouth left and right, my face turning to the side from the overwhelming pleasure. He grasps my jaw, turning my face back to him. He gazes down at me, studying my features, his thrusts gaining power, but keeping the slow pace.

"Always look so fucking pretty under me like this." He groans out, his hair dangling in front of his face.

"Mm, you fuck me so good, baby." I moan out, my nails digging into his bare back.

He smashes his lips onto mine, his hand still gripping my jaw as he fucks into me. He kisses me so deeply that it leaves me breathless. I'm on cloud nine. I can feel every vein that runs along his cock as he slowly pumps his member in and out of me, hitting my g-spot over and over again. The lewd sounds of my arousal and our skin slapping rings through the air, making this moment all the more delicious.

"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around me. So tight and wet." He moans, his thrusts becoming slightly sloppier. "Whose is it?"

I can't comprehend anything, my mind hazy with pleasure. Pornographic moans fall from my mouth, repeatedly. I can feel my orgasm sneaking up on me, causing me to clench around his dick.

"I asked you a question." He growls, his hand on my jaw turning me to look at him. "Whose pussy is this?"

"F-fuck." I whine out, "Yours. It's yours, Matt. All yours."

"Oh fuck-" He moans into my neck, his breath heavy. "You're goddamn right it is. All mine."

His thrusts speed up, him chasing our highs. My thighs clench around his waist and I can feel him throbbing inside of me. His tongue dances along the sweaty skin of my neck, teasing the sensitive bit. His panting and moaning in my ear, along with his deep strokes, push me over the edge. My legs begin to tremble, my head thrown back, nails digging into his back muscles. With a loud moan, I'm releasing onto his cock.

"Such a good girl, baby." He moans, his thrusts now completely abandoning their previous rhythm.

With just a few more pumps, his hips are sputtering and he's emptying his seed into me with a loud groan. He continues slowly fucking into me, riding both of our highs out, before he comes to a halt. He gently pulls out of me, collapsing on the bed beside me. Both of us have erratic breaths, our cheeks flushed a rosy, pink color. Our skin is slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead, mine stuck to my neck.

"That was, wow." He pants.

"Matt." I breathe, causing him to look over at me. "I'm hungry now."

He bursts into laughter, making me join him. He leans over and places a sweet kiss on my cheek before getting up, grabbing my hand and helping me to stand.

"Let's get dressed. We can make something to eat, then shower and actually watch a movie this time." He suggests.

I nod in agreement, quickly dressing myself as he does the same. Combing my hair out with my fingers, I follow him out into the kitchen. He rounds the counter and opens the fridge, browsing for something to eat.

"Hey, do you wanna make a pizza?" He asks, looking back at me with raised eyebrows.

"Ooo, yes!" I cheese, "I'm just gonna go pee real quick. Get everything out and we can start when I get back."

He nods and does so as I make my way to the bathroom. I quickly go pee and wash my hands, heading back out to start out food. On the counter lays a baking sheet and a Totino's frozen pizza. I laugh upon seeing it.

"I figured we could just make this, since it's late and I know we're both tired. But if you don't want to, we can make a homemade one. It's up to you, princess."

I smile at him, "This is perfectly fine."

He smiles back and goes to preheat the oven. I take the frozen pizza out of the wrapper and place it on the baking sheet, then sit down on one of the bar stools while waiting for the oven to reach temperature. Matt comes and sits beside me, pulling his phone out to keep him occupied.

He looks so cute and so handsome. His hair falling over his face so delicately, his lips so pretty and pink. I pull my phone out, opening snapchat and start recording him. He doesn't have to do much of anything at all to make my heart flutter. He reaches back and scratches his back, suddenly catching my eye and seeing me record him. He flashes me a smile as I grin at him.

"You're so handsome, baby." I tell him, ending the video.

"Thank you, princess." He says, pecking my lips.

Once the oven preheats, we place the pizza in and set a timer for when it should be done. After it finishes, we run to his room with a plate and get in bed, eager to eat and watch a movie. This is exactly what I needed after the week I had. Matthew never fails to make me forget about everything else, instead, showing me a good time and making loving memories that I'll cherish forever.

--

a/n : hii, this was kinda just short and sweet! i hope it was still enjoyable! and sooo sorry for the wait, still tryna get back into my grove :))) love uuu x

[wither-rose-aka-aria]

Pretty Please~

A BangChan x reader smut fic. Fluff at the beginning. Pro rider Chan. Age gap??? Chan calls reader hyung

Warnings: a bit of swearing, unprotected (wrap it up) ,this is down bad and nastyyyy

With Chan's field of work you know he gets little to no time for himself rather than a partner but he still gives you the time you need however it's been an eternity since You & Chan have done something special

Lately both you & Chan have been quite busy, you with work projects, presentations & Chan with the upcoming album, concept photos, recording, producing & composing, dance practice & a lot more so of course you understand that he doesn't have that much time to spend with his beloved, but that doesn't mean you can't miss him so you decide to text him

You:"Hey Chris can we go to that cafe later if you're able to?"

My love💕: "Sure! get ready. I'll pic you up at five"

My love💕:"Love you babe♥️"

That text was enough to make your whole weak. You felt as if you were gonna float with the excitement because you two FINALLY got the chance to spend your time together. You get up to get ready for the date since it was already 4 pm

Your sitting on you couch scrolling on your phone waiting for Chan when you get a notification

My love💕: "I'm outside the apartment love"

You don't even waste time reading the message you SPRINT from your living room to the front door yanking it open & you practically throw yourself on Chan. He's taken by surprise when you lock him in a bear hug.

"Oh my god Chris I missed you sooo much! How were you my baby!"

Chan's giggles echo off the building walls

"I was good and I missed you too! Come on we gotta go!"

Saying both of you were excited would be an understatement because you two were giggling the whole way back to the parking basement.

Chan: "You didn't tell me we were going with your bike!"

You: "Well I doubt that we're gonna get to go on another date in awhile so might as well cherish the time we got yeah?"

You can hear both of your hearts beating in sync & that gives you comfort in a way to know that he's there for you,breathing with you, choosing to be with you through thick & thin and loving you in any way, shape or form.

You guys reach the cafe after a quiet but comforting ride & Chris goes to order for both of you . After he's done ordering you guys find a seat in the corner by a window. Its when you sit down you fully take in what Chan is wearing. You did look at what he was wearing when you opened the door but you had been too ecstatic to really look at Chan. He was wearing a black tank top that was defining his chest, his muscly arms bare with prominent veins. Chan noticed that you were zoned out, than he saw where your eyes were, he asked in a teasing tone

"Hyung are you okay? You seem to be zoned out~"

"You really know what you're doing huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about~"

The whole date you guys were teasing each other & you couldn't keep your cool for much longer because it has been months since you've had any action and it was not helping that Chan was wearing something like this just to tease you. So, you pull him closer to you, your lips brushing against his ear, you whisper "I need you NOW" practically moaning the last part into his ear. You were really frustrated but you couldn't get rid of it in the bathroom because you wanted it to be special . Both of you quickly finish your dessert & head out on your bike. On the way to your apartment when suddenly you feel a hand on your thigh

"Don't do that Chris, I might just fuck you on the highway at this point"

"What! That's a wild fantasy!"

"You're one to talk"

Your patience was running thin by the passing second so try to open the front door as quickly as you could. When the lock finally opens both of you are not even inside when Chan jumps onto you & starts kissing you. Usually his kisses were warm & soft but right now they were hungry & rough. The kiss was all teeth & tongue with spit dripping down your chin. Chan opens the door to your bedroom while still pressed to your front. You waste little to no time in getting rid of your clothes. Chan lays on his back on your bed while you take out a bottle of lube from your bedside table. You squirt a generous amount on your fingers and insert your index finger slowly in his ass, slowly thrusting it in and out of his hole, to which he responds with a whimper. Than you insert another finger and start to move your hands in a scissoring motion and Chris let's out a long drawn out groan. Your other hand is on his hip, rubbing soothing circles on the skin so he doesn't feel too uncomfortable. He grips the sheets when you introduce a third finger to his already full hole. That's when he starts getting whiny, begging you to fill him up.

"Channie, baby, are you sure you want this? I don't have any condoms"

"Yes please, pretty please hyung~ want you to fill me up~"

The nickname made you weak so you hurry up & finally give him what he keeps begging for. You line up your dick at the entrance of his ass, slowly, sliding it in inch by inch. The burning stretch was a little painful at first however with your voice coaxing him & talking him through it made it more pleasurable. Then you slowly start to thrust in and out, making Chan let out a choked moan that he was holding back

This was a sight to see; Chan sprawled on your bed with an already fucked out expression just from your fingers, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, making his hair stick. The sight alone was enough to drive you mad but then Chan says something,no, he practically moans it

"Please go f-faster hyung, I c-can tak- ahh it"

That was the breaking point for you, you start thrusting faster, your dick slamming into his prostrate every time you thrust, making Chan grunt with clenched teeth. You hold his leg up so you could rail him properly, Your cool rings a contrast to the warm skin, leaving imprints onto his thigh. the bed was creaking with the way you were railing him into the mattress, his hips twitching with every thrust of your dick

"Am I fucking you good Channie? You like being railed by your hyung huh? You enjoying this?"

"Yes! Yes! Ahhh yes y-you fuck me s-so ahhh- good hyung"

The room was filled with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin and Chan's moans. You hook Chan's leg onto your waist to grab his chin & kiss him, Chan willingly opens his mouth to let your tongue in. Your tongues swirl together in a fluid movement, both of your noises being muffled in each other's mouths. You pull away for air after the intense make out session and you notice that Chan is getting noisier and he starts clenching around you, that's a signal, that he's close, so you speed up your thrusting and jerk Chris with your other hand, completely driving him to the edge

"Hyung I'm g-gonna c-cum ahhh- don't s-stop p-please d-don't"

"I won't my love~"

You also felt that you were close. Your thrusts became feral at this point, mind blank from the feeling of Chan clenching around you. With a loud moan Chan came, thighs quivering, spilling all over his stomach. You also finished inside him, filling him with your hot release. Your mind was foggy, Chan's mouth hung open, eyes shut close. It took a minute for both of you to register to your surroundings again after the intense round, you slowly pull out and your cum spills out from his ass

"That was the most intense orgasm I've had in MONTHS"

"Yeah, me too. You wanna go for another round?"

"Hyung, you have a lot of energy huh? Yeah, yeah I do"

"Come here than"

You pull Chris in for another open mouth kiss while simultaneously flipping him so he's sitting in your lap now. He starts grinding on you while giving you that look of want

"Are you ready? You really wanna do this again honey?"

You ask again just to be sure but your question is answered with a desperate "yes please"

You help Chan slowly insert your dick back into his hole, firmly holding his hips. You bite his neck which erupts a whimper from Chan, he starts to go up and down on your dick while you suck on his chest, swirling your tongue around his bud, sucking on it harshly, you release his nipple with a pop! Giving the same attention to his other nipple. Chan starts riding you faster, rolling his hips down on your dick, which makes you moan loudly. The way Chan was moving those hips Up! Down! Left! Right! was making your mind fuzzy. You were drunk on the feeling of his hole clenching around you, it made you light headed in a good way. You start thrusting into him on pure instinct, which made Chan moan right into your ear. That was you last straw, Chan made you feral with his noises, you start thrusting up into him at an inhuman pace. Chan was practically screaming because you were hitting all the right spots. You feel Chan pulsing around you, indicating that he's close to his release. With one final thrust of your hips, the orgasm washes over him. He spills cum all over your thighs and stomach. Chan's legs are trembling, head thrown back, arms holding onto you for dear life. You continue thrusting, helping him ride out his high, you were also close to your climax, so you speed up your pace and with a final thrust you also finish in Chan, spilling your release inside him. Both of you stay like this for a moment before you help Chan pull out, he was completely spent, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. You go and quickly clean yourself up in the bathroom while getting a rag to help clean Chan up. Than you lay down, cuddling into his side with Chan's face softly nuzzled into your neck. You pull the covers up and you guys fall into slumber in the comfortable silence of your home.

It's really funny how a single asf person is writing about a couple doing something romantic. Personally I can't stand happy couples but I also can't write angst because it'll actually tear my heart apart into pieces.

Do not steal, translate, repost or recommend without my permission! Thank you

[jjkilll]

———— - - -✫ NASTY | JJK ✫- - - ————

— pairing |  idol bf jk x y/n

— summary | teasing your boyfriend at a dinner party in front of all his friends isn't the smartest of ideas, but it got you exactly what you wanted.

—  warning | smut like real filthy, dirty talk, rough sex, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (please fucking use a condom, i am no babysitter), choking, slapping, cum(?), verbal degradation, and spitting

— word count | 1.7K

— song | Nasty - Ariana Grande

You always loved sex with Jungkook, he was a pleaser and always made sure you came before he did. He was just... vanilla. He was always making love to you, which was great and you loved it, but sometimes you wish he'd fuck your brains out. The thought of him calling you a slut and fucking you until you couldn't walk for the next few days made you extremely horny.

You had talked to him about it before asking him to be a little rougher with you, but he never wants to hurt you or make you feel like he actually thinks horrible things about you. To him, you were the moon, sun, and the stars. So he choked you a little and smacked your ass every now and then but you wanted more. You also didn't want to push him to do things he wasn't comfortable doing, so you left it alone.

Jungkook finally comes back to Korea after shooting a music video in LA. He asks if you want to join him for Jimin's birthday dinner and you accept, you haven't been out with him in two whole weeks and you haven't touched him in three due to him being super busy a week before leaving so you needed him desperately to put it shortly.

You put on a short black Chanel dress and matching platform heels. "You look fucking amazing baby," Jungkook says coming up behind you in the mirror. He stands behind you watching you adjust your dress to your liking. You back up to him a little pressing your ass on his clothed manhood. He winced backing up a little, clearly trying to hold back. "Baby we're gonna be late if you keep trying this shit." He says lowly but seriously. You give him a cheeky smile. "I just missed you so much, Daddy." You turn to face him and fill the gap between you two. "I missed you more than you'll ever know baby, but we can't be late. Ill take care of you when we get back, I promise." He says pecking your lips softly.

You loved how warm he was, he smelled like heaven and it was truly getting harder to wait until you returned. You hummed. "Okay, let's go now." He chuckles at your newfound eagerness. He smiles as you take his hand dragging him to the foyer. You grab your coat, tossing it over your arm, Jungkook opens the door for you, and you smile at him. God, you love this man.

✫ -----------------------✫

Dinner was going well, Jungkook was telling the members about the shoot and how hot it was in LA. You watched him speak about work, he loved his job and you loved how passionate he was. He had been practicing so much before he left, you wouldn't wait to see how it turned out. Jimin was talking about the guitar lessons he was taking, and he listened nodding. Then a little cheeky thought popped into your head. You rub your hand up his thigh. He looks at you and smiles, rubbing your arm lovingly. He turned back to his friends invested in the ski trip story that Namjoon tells to everyone new he meets. You do it once more getting closer to his cock. He shoots you a look, and you smirk at him. He grabs your hand holding it in his. He leans over to you, "Watch it, baby." He kisses your cheek trying to play it off so none of his friends start to wonder. He just wasn't giving you the reaction you wanted. You needed to up the ante. Everyone was finishing up their food and talking and drinking. Jungkook was too caught up in conversation and a little bit tipsy, to realize your hand was back on his thigh. You inched closer and closer and stroke his clothed cock, causing him to choke on the beer he was drinking. Tables eyes dart to him asking him if he was okay. Jimin and Taehyung jokingly mention him having too much to drink. He looks at you pissed. He assured everyone he was okay and taking as his sign to go.

You both grab your coats, saying goodbye to everyone before Jungkook drags you out of the restaurant. "Really Y/n?" He says annoyed. "Fine, ill give you exactly what the fuck you want." He spoke his voice lower than usual. You were giddy, to say the least, quite pleased with your antics.

✫ -----------------------✫

You arrive home, the car ride is silent but quick and you can barely make it in the door before Jungkook grabs you kissing you. He backs you into the wall kissing your neck. He slips your dress up and his hand down your panties. "This is what you wanted huh? You want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? You couldn't even wait until we got home." He rubs circles against your clit and you already feel the knot in your stomach unravelling. "You embarrass me in front of my friends all because you want some dick? You want it so bad, don't you?" He kisses your lips stopping you from moaning loudly. He pulls his hand away and you groan at the loss of pleasure. "Open." He demands with his fingers at your lips. You obey sucking on his middle and ring fingers. "Look at you, licking yourself off my fingers. You"re so fucking nasty." He says watching you look up at him. "Fuck." He mutters under his breath. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He kisses you again tasting you on your tongue.

He sets you down gently never breaking the kiss. He was so obsessed with you and the whole stunt you pulled turned him on incredibly. "Do you even know how hard I was trying not to get a boner in the restaurant? I wanted to bend you over the table and fuck your right there." Jungkook wouldn't lie, he was sexually frustrated. You went from fucking every other day to not at all for three weeks. He could tear you apart, truly that is what you were hoping for.

"Fuck me please, Jungkook," You whined. Jungkook stood taking off his jeans and boxers letting his hard cock spring free. He strokes himself a few times before leaning back over you and kissing you again. He lifts your dress pulling it off and over your head. He unbuckles the buckle in the middle of your bra making your tits bounce at the release. You moan as he attaches his mouth to your nipple sucking it slowly, having his tongue dance around it.

"Shit, baby you're so fucking sexy." He kisses down your body stopping at the top of your panties. He yanks them down roughly and tosses them somewhere behind him. He uses one of his arms to flip you onto your stomach. He pushes your face into the mattress, your ass up in the air. He rubs his cock along you pussy making you shutter. He pushes inside you slowly. You moan into the cover. He groans, bottoming out inside you. "This pussy was made for me." He says before backing out and thrusting into you slowly. His pace is steady. You stutter struggling to speak. He quickens his pace. "Take my cock baby, isn't this what you wanted?" He hums, expecting an answer from you. When you don't respond he smacks your ass harshly, "What? My cock turned you dumb? I asked you a fucking question."

You moaned, praying your neighbor wouldn't complain tomorrow. "Y-yes, fuck- oh my god, Jungkook, please! You're so fucking big!" He grinned, slowing his strokes so he can fuck you deeper. "You can take right baby?" He licks the tip of his finger and rubs your clit. The pleasure you feel is insane. You've always wanted him to fuck you like this. You were so turned on you could come any second. "Yes, Kook. I-I can take it. Fuck! G-give it to me!" Once again his pace quickens and your release is closer than ever. He grabs you by your neck your back closer to him. "Fuck baby this pussy is so fucking good," He wraps his hand around your throat, his other one still rubbing your clit.

"J-Jung- Please I'm going to c-come! J-just like that, holy shit! Fuck me." He groans fucking into you. He's just as close as you are. "Come with me, come on my cock. I'm gonna fill you up, baby." Your vision goes blurry as you come. Your mouth falls open, he continues fucking you through your orgasm. "Fuck Y/n. Take it, take all my come." He groans emptying his hot load inside of you. He lets go of your neck and you fall back onto the bed. He slowly pulls out of you, watching his mess drip out of you. He slaps your ass once more before flopping beside you.

You lay flat turning your head toward him. He looks at your fucked out state before chuckling. You join him, still a little breathless. "You're so cute." He says. He pulls you on top of him your legs on the side of his waist as you lay your head on his chest. "I wasn't too rough was I?" He asks tucking your stray hairs behind your ear. You shake your head. "If pissing you off is all I had to do for you to fuck me like that I would've done it ages ago." He chuckles. "I just was afraid of hurting you. You're just so delicate." He says sweetly. "Jungkook, I like the rough shit, when you talk like that to me it turns me on so much. I can take it, I promise. I'll tell you when it's too much." You look up at him. He hums. "Okay, does that mean you're ready for round 2?" He asks cheekily. You sit up straddling him. "In the wise words of Megan Thee Stallion, imma ride that dick like a stolen car," You say with a smirk. He grips your hips as you grind against him. "Fuck I'm already hard again." Your pussy leaking come. "This is so fucking hot." He watches you rub your pussy along his cock.

You stand kneeling in front of him. He sits up on his elbows watching as you stroke his cock. His breath hitches when you take all of him in your mouth. "I want you to come on my face."

"You are so fucking nasty girl." He responds as you lick his tip. You knew you were in for a longggggg night.

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: Heard this last night and knew I had to add Ariana to the master list. More to come ;) Feedback and Requests are appreciated. Much love pookies. <3 I haven't re-read it so please ignore the mistakes. I'll fix it before I sleep :)

[sassykattery]

Mentoring

This is a little smut fic I wrote for Diavolo's birthday, but since I have two fics now and this isn't a "birthday-themed fic," I thought I'd post it now.

CW: MC is AFAB and nameless, uses she/her pronouns. Piv sex, creampie, roughness, harsh language.

WARNING: This fic is centered around the CNC kink. I will explain what that is, but if it's something you may not enjoy due to trauma or other issues, please don't read!!!

CNC: Means consensual-nonconsent. The premise of a cnc scene is that beforehand, both partners agree to certain types of rough or aggressive sex that is of "nonconsesual" nature during the scene. The consensual part is the agreement before the actual sex occurs, where safewords, boundaries, and other parameters are in place. Some people call it rape play, I don't necessarily agree with using that as a blanket term for CNC. This is risky and should not be taken lightly, just like BDSM.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

Third person POV, reader insert

18+ only

Enjoy

"So we are in agreement. We're doing this?"

"Yes... I think so."

"You can't just think so. This is something that could go poorly for both of us if we aren't both on board with it."

She was quiet for a moment, deciding what to say next. Diavolo lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes, a softened but serious look in his.

"I want this. We have our rules, we agreed to the rules, and we know our way out should we need it," she answered confidently.

"Then... so it shall be."

She sighed as she gazed at her test score. It was fine, but she wanted better. Quietly, she folded it and set it aside so she could focus on class. That was, until she saw Diavolo walk in, making a beeline for the teacher's podium.

"Good morning everyone. Your professor had to take leave today, so I will be filling in for the day. His message to you all is to work on your assignments due this week. You may ask me questions if you need to. No lesson for today," Diavolo explained.

The class became quiet and got to work as instructed.

Except her.

She stared up at Diavolo for a solid minute until his eyes finally landed on hers. She raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth barely tipped up.

Today was the day.

She began to work on her homework for the next hour, counting the minutes and seconds until class was over. It was so much more distracting to have him there, just steps away from her own desk while he sat at the professor's. The anticipation was building, and all she could do was organize in her head how this would go. Her thoughts were consumed with running each scenario, every word, every single movement they could make. It was so important that this went right, and maybe–

"And that's class. Thank you all for coming. Have a good day," Diavolo announced, standing at the podium. Everyone was already up and leaving, having packed their things while she just sat there daydreaming.

Once the room was cleared out, she cleared her throat quietly and got up from her desk, her test in hand as she walked up to the podium.

"Hey, I had a question," she stated confidently but softly, trying not to intrude. She saw the papers on his podium and knew he was likely busy.

"Yes, what is it?" He replied in his usual candor, golden eyes gleaming and bright white smile beaming.

"I got this score on my test, and I really thought I did better... Is there any way I could... get some help?" She answered, handing him the sheet of paper. He looked over his nose at her and nodded, taking the paper and setting it down to look at.

"I'll see what I can find."

He scanned it over, reading every question and answer. If there was any skill he mastered, it was looking at anything unfazed and replying in a similarly unaffected manner.

"I see. So, you seemed to have not totally understood this concept here, and this one could have been better here," he explained, pointing out to her what he meant. She came closer and nodded, listening carefully. "I think this one could have used a few more examples to drive home your point as well."

She sighed. "Yeah... That's what I thought, too. I wish I'd done better..." she murmured to him.

Her mind became distracted again, thinking about how good he smelled, the amber and musk filling her head with ideas other than this test.

"Are you listening?" He asked quietly, bowing his head to look at her.

"Oh, sorry..." she mumbled.

Finally, she turned her own head up to look at him, and she swallowed thickly at the idea buzzing in her skull, the one making her question every fiber of her moral being.

"Is there... anything I could do to improve my score? Anything at all?" She asked carefully and slowly, bringing herself closer and peering up at him with slightly widened eyes, her expression maybe a little innocent.

"Did you have something in mind?" Diavolo asked in reply, his voice pitching lower in his tenor range smoothly.

She mentally took a deep breath, centering herself. I want this. I want to try this, she thought to herself.

"I mean... What are my options?" She asked, her own voice stepping just a hair lower in pitch as well, leaning into the intensity of the moment. Her body moved closer intentionally, now just mere inches away from his.

"Don't be coy, I think you and I both know what you're implying," he answered, a bit dominantly. "I saw how you stared at me all hour. You can't stand here now and tell me you don't know what you're asking."

Here we go.

"Surely I don't know what you mean..." she stated, sounding slightly shocked.

His arm snaked around her waist, and he snatched her closer, a little roughly, and bowed his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Don't lie. You want me to improve your grade in return for something, right? A little mentoring? Well, I know what it is you want, and I know what I want, so why don't we skip the rest and get to the point?"

She nearly trembled then, with excitement and nerves from how he spoke to her so harshly but still yet so seductively.

"I... I don't understand. I just wanted to see–"

"Shut up, and come here," he snapped quietly in her ear, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her over to the desk. He pushed her against it, wrapping an arm around her when she became off balance from the sudden movements to hold her up. "You asked for it, now I'll make sure you get what you want, and I'll get what I want," he murmured in her ear before biting on the shell of it.

"But–"

"But nothing, now am I going to take these off, or are you going to help?" He interrupted her again, pushing her to sit on the desk and slipping his thick fingers into the belt loops of her slacks with a hard tug.

"No, I really didn't mean–" she tried to insist.

Riiiiiiiiiiiip.

"I guess I'm doing all of the work," he mumbled, quite literally ripping her slacks off with his inhuman strength like the material was paper.

"Dia–"

She started to yelp, but he slapped a hand across her mouth to cover it and keep her quiet.

"Now, are you wanting your classmates to know you want your headmaster to change your grade in exchange for sex?" He challenged her, his gaze piercing her soul. She shook her head. "Then be quiet."

With her torn slacks on the floor in pieces, his hand skimmed up her warm thigh, and he roughly opened it out wide so he could stand between her legs. He looked down and smirked as her underwear peaked out in the creases of her thick thighs and soft tummy.

"You were anticipating this, weren't you? Wearing just a black little lacey thong today. Were you going to ask your professor for this too had he been here?" He mocked her, snapping the band of her panties against her, making her flinch and moving his hand from her mouth. "Answer me," he snapped.

"No, I wasn't asking for this! I–"

She clamped his hand on her mouth again while tutting her. "I said be quiet. Do not yell again unless you want this to get much worse for you," he commanded. She nodded. He smirked at her panicked expression, tears welling up in her eyes. "Now, there's no need for that. I'll give you what you want. Besides, you're going to be good for me, right? This is all for me, and I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

She shook her head, and he ignored her as he slid her panties down her thighs. When she started to fight him, closing up her legs and pulling away, they met the same fate as the slacks. His eyes dilated when he started to see his prize, and instantly got more aggressive.

"Don't. Fight. Me," he barked at her, grabbing both her thighs and throwing them open wider so he could see her perfect little wet pussy on display for him. She still tried to fight against him, pulling away and shaking her head while she whimpered. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Finally, he pinned her down against the desk with his massive hands on her shoulders, papers flying everywhere. "Are you done?"

She stopped for a moment, looking up at him. Her hands had gripped onto his elbows, trying to hang on as he pinned her. She tapped her finger once against his elbow before saying, "Stop! This isn't what I meant at all!" She pleaded with him.

"Oh, but I think deep down it is what you wanted, pet. I think you were waiting for the perfect moment to use your little charms to win me over, but now you have cold feet. You know you want this. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you," he answered menacingly. "I'll make sure you enjoy it, at least a little."

She shook her head and sobbed. Seeing that she wouldn't stop making noises, and he found them to be rather adorable, he snapped his fingers to block sounds within the room from being heard outside.

"What a mess..." he mumbled with a sigh.

He began kissing her on her lips, hoping to shut her up just for a little bit. He ground himself against her body and let his hands wander her body. His fingers made short work of her uniform jacket and blouse, quickly loosening her tie and gaining access to what was beneath it all. He gave a purr of content as he got a glimpse of her. She laid there, still squirming and whimpering, trying to push him off, but that was like pushing on a brick wall when it came to the prince of hell.

"You are beautiful," he murmured in her ear before licking the shell of it a little obscenely. He ducked his head down and left hard kisses, little bites, and trails of his saliva on her chest.

"Stop," she whimpered, turning her head away from him, but he just chased her down with his lips hot on her exposed skin.

He chuckled darkly in her ear and groaned. "I'll even do you a little favor," he told her while he slipped a hand down her exposed form to her pussy. He danced his fingertips along the slit before sliding them past the crevices to reach her clit where he rubbed it generously.

"Noooo..." she groaned, finding it harder to fight against him. "Please don't do that."

"Ohhh, but you're so wet, pet," he murmured to her, and even she couldn't deny how much more slick she became down below. "You're loving this no matter how much you want to deny it."

He trailed his kissed lower and began feasting upon her breasts, sucking and laving his tongue over her perky nipples with elation.

"Finer than any forbidden fruit, sweeter than any sugar," he mumbled against her flesh. "I can't wait anymore."

Diavolo brought his head up to kiss her with his tongue bullying into her mouth. His hands began to unbuckle his belt and send his slacks to his knees. He quickly shed his uniform jacket and loosened his tie.

"You ready, dulcis? I need you," he said huskily in her ear.

Just after he spoke, she felt something warm and hard pressed against her thighs. Pre-cum started to coat her thigh as he rubbed it against her.

"Please don't, please," she pleaded with him, with a tear rolling down her temple.

"Shh, it'll feel good, just enjoy it," he whispered to her.

The demon pried her legs apart again and stood between them, leaning on one hand on the desk while the other grasped his cock to start rubbing the fat head against her little clit.

"Just a perfect little pussy, and all for me," he mused, feeling her slick coating his length. He bowed his head again to murmur in her ear. "Don't fight me. This will go a lot better if you just take it," he warned her before kissing her temple again. All she did was squirm again beneath him.

After pulling his hips back and angling himself, he slid his cock into her, groaning at the overwhelming tightness of her walls.

"Oh god," she whined, trying to worm away from what was bullying its way into her depths.

He chuckled and kept her in place with little effort on his part. "There's no god here to help you now. It's just you and the Demon Lord," he rumbled darkly in her ear.

It took a few more moments for his cock to be fully seated in her. He took the moments after to breathe in her scent, the glistening light sweat on the sides of her neck, and her sweet, sweet arousal. It was fuel for his fire to keep going.

"You're mine. You're all mine, and I'm not letting go," he stated with a malicious chuckle.

The first thrust was rough, and she cried out at how harsh it was. She couldn't help but cling onto him, her little hands gripping the fabric of his shirt along his elbows. He went back to planting a field of dark blooms, hickies and bites galore. With every thrust, he grunted, fighting the urge to completely lose it. Little squeaks and groans fell from her lips as well, signing conjuction with the rattles of the desk.

"Hells, darling, you're going to make me let go too early," he murmured against her neck. "You can't tell me anymore that you didn't want me to fuck you raw on this desk, not with you dripping down your ass and my thighs."

"I didn't," she insisted weakly, knowing she was losing the fight to stop him and now trying to win the fight to make it through to the end.

He grunted again as he made another hard thrust into her. His pre-cum and her wet walls made it such easy glides in and out, but there was something so cute to him about how she squeaked and whined with every pounding he gave her.

Diavolo chuckled again. "Right, and you don't want me to release inside you too, hmm? You don't want to feel me finally fill you up properly, to give you what you've wanted for so long? You wanted to be fucked, and now you're simply getting the best."

"Oh god," she whined again, clutching onto his shirt along his chest.

"God doesn't save whores like you who beg to be filled so deeply," he replied in her ear, his voice much more serene for someone who was doing this.

He kissed her neck and wrapped his arms around her body, trapping her entirely as he made the last few thrusts count. Using the desk as leverage, he leaned forward more to bring her hips up so he could penetrate her deeper. It took all of just mere moments to start moaning and crying with relief as he hit that sweet spot deep inside, and only that many more moments to make her body lock up as the most intense orgasm of her life befell her. The hot sparks of pleasure bloomed from her abdomen and spiraled out to her limbs. The chasm of pleasure was a deep one, and when the Demon Lord felt her walls contract around his cock and pulse, he was pulled down with her into the abyss of carnal bliss. Hot jets of his cum filled her in waves as his hips rocked forward with each one.

When it was over, the pair lay there, heaving and trying to catch their breath. Diavolo was the first to relax and gain his bearings again. He looked down at his human lover, feeling a wave of passion and simultaneous anxiety.

"My love... My love, look at me, please, baby," he cooed to her, stroking her cheeks with his hand.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked relaxed at peace.

"We're done... Finis," he softly whispered to her, his hand rising up to pet her hair back. She nodded in understanding and let go of her iron grip on his shirt. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

She shook her head and reached up with a trembling hand to touch his cheek next. He smiled and kissed her palm, reaching with his to grasp her hand gently. He bowed his head slightly to prompt her.

"I'm okay. No pain," she finally verbalized it for him.

"That's good. Shall I take you home so you can rest?" He asked her in a throaty murmur. She nodded. Standing upright, he reached for his red uniform coat and wrapped it around her as he pulled her up right. It was already long, and on her, the coat looked like a blanket and kept her decent. He then put himself back in order, slacks up and buckled, and shirt back in place.

He slid his arms beneath her and picked her up effortlessly in a princess carry.

She laid her head against his shoulder and asked him softly, "What about the rest of the day? My classes?"

Diavolo chuckled and shook his head, carrying her out of the door, snapping his fingers to use magic to reorganize the desk they just laid waste to with their fornication. "After that, you deserve some pampering and all the care I can give you." He then bent his head down to whisper to her, "Besides, those are the perks of being the lover of your headmaster, no? I make the rules, I say what goes."

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated

Tags: @delphidreamin @biteable-pink-pixie @itsmeninerz

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #7

What if... SMG4 takes a vacation?

[more below cut]

For context... c'mon, can't a guy catch a break? :) Time for a vacation! [Also available on AO3 + Wattpad]

Let's hope Four doesn't waste all the bajillion dollars I just gave him. Am I right, @bowlolol? (yep it's part 2 of concept #5 - link)

"No regrets."

Four zips up his suitcase with an exhausted yet satisfied "hmph". He sat the case up to its wheel, facing the Crew. "You guys have always been telling me to take a break from editing, especially because of WOTFI and Marty months ago. It's about time. Besides, I just finished editing the video I've worked on for the past week." 

Four pulls out his phone and presses the "Publish" button on the YouTube studio, making a video public. "And...there, I should be good for the whole vacation," he said. "I mean, who wouldn't want to see a 10-hour complication of Kermit clips!"

Puppy-eyed Mario falls to his knees, putting his hands together. "SMG4, please take Mario with you!"

"Sorry, Mario, but the giveaway only had one ticket to give out. It was such a good deal too!" His finger points over to the pile of empty RIZZ soda cans in the corner of the room, it admittedly took forever to find the ultra-rare can with the QR code. "Totally worth it."

Mario went over to Four, pleading him to sneak the Italian Funnyman(TM) in his suitcase. In the meantime, Meggy was on a video call with an old friend.

"Thanks again, Auri, for being SMG4's guide. Just make sure he doesn't lose his suitcase like I did," she said.

Auri giggles. "Of course, anything for you, partner! I'll be sure to meet him at the port. Guy with the blue "S" cap, right?" Meggy nods in response, Auri does a salute. "Alright. But I hope his ship gets here before the storm does, heard it was going to be really rough."

"Yeah, SMG4 can get a bit seasick. Well, we're just about to drop him off by the docks. I'll talk to you soon, Auri!"

After Auri says goodbye, they hang up and Meggy turns to see Mario being dragged around by his grip on Four's ankle. She asked, "Ready to go?"

Four gave her a thumbs-up. "You bet!"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The Crew waved Four farewell as he did the same as he was on board the ship heading towards Port Aurora. Once the ship was out of sight, they all went back to what they were doing, content with the fact that Four wouldn't be in front of the screen all day. Well, everyone except Mario, who was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom out of boredom.

Don't get him wrong, Mario is happy for Four. Ever since the 'perfect' incident, each of them was secretly weary of Four spending too much time editing a video. Not that they could stop him completely, he's a YouTube content creator after all. So, they would occasionally go up to him and ask him for something or straight up to take a break. Mario remembered he did it one time, when he asked Four for milk. Sure, it wasn't the most solid plan but it was at least something that distracted him for a bit. What other plan was there anyway?

Ask him for a cup of sugar? Pfft. That's pretty lame excuse, even for Mario.

Mario groaned, getting off from his bed. Four finally takes a break but without him around, the poor plumber is left alone, bored. There wasn't really anyone to go along with his funny shenanigans. So, he tried it with his other friends.

Luigi ended up having to clean up the mess he made at the flower shop. Melony was busy working on her second book. He got bored listening to Boopkin's stories. Three was also busy, running the cafe and streaming. Saiko was in band practice with Kaizo.

Then, there was Meggy. From what he could tell, Meggy was unsure if she could keep her red beanie. Unsure what to do with her life anymore. He couldn't blame her, after Western Spaghetti and what Mr Puzzles did. It was a lot to take in. It'll be best to give her some space, away from his silliness.

So, he tried doing stuff on his own, like reacting to some Nintendo memes in the game room. But it didn't feel the same. Tari was also there, focused on a gaming session with Belle and some other online friends. 

However, seeing how Mario drooping in his chair, Tari paused her game. "Sorry guys but I need to do something real quick. Be right back." She mutes her microphone and heads over to her friend. "Hey, Mario? You feeling okay?" 

"I'm just so bored," the red Italian said. "Wish SMG4 was here." 

"Oh, Mario, it's only been a couple of hours. He won't be back until after 3 weeks." 

"ONLY A COUPLE OF HOURS?" Mario shouted, his eyes shot open. Panicking, he went to shake Tari by the shoulders. "Tari, someone is messing with the time gods! It's the end of the world!"

Tari, being used to Mario's energy, simply grabbed his hands in reassurance. "You really miss him, huh?"

"He is Mario's best friend." He calms down, his eyes starting to water. "We have done a lot of stuff together."

"Hmm, do you want to hang out with me?"

"Thanks, but it won't feel the same."

She takes a moment to think, her pointer finger on her chin, until an idea comes to mind. "Why don't you send SMG4 a video postcard?" Tari asks, capturing Mario's curiosity. "I'm sure SMG4 misses us too, so maybe you could send a video of our friends. Around the Showgrounds. You could ask him to do the same in Port Aurora. That way, you guys will still be in contact."

Mario's eyes sparkled, jumping with enthusiasm. He shakes Tari's hand, thanking her, before running out of the game room. With a camera in hand, he goes around recording everything he can and the first person he went to was Luigi, of course. Mario apologized about the mess but he is willing to make it up to him by helping out doing some labor. Luigi was happy at the offer.

While Luigi handled customers and arranged flower arrangements, Mario was going around doing deliveries. It was the best part, after all, steering the wheel while making airplane noises. Nearly crashing into several cars, y'know the usual. But then he passed by Meggy's house. Wanting to cheer her up, he asked Meggy to come along.

Meggy shakes her head. "I don't know, Red."

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Certified Mario promise." 

 "Well, okay..." She complies with a note of hesitation.

Mario let out a "yippee" and carried her to the delivery truck like a sack of potatoes. As Mario drove, Meggy was reading off the list for him since he's not a fan of reading. Her finger stopped at a particular address. "Wait, 'Wright'? As in, Phoenix Wright?" 

"Oh, yeah. That was the lawyer guy you're a fan of, right?" 

"Can we go see him?" She asked, sudden enthusiasm simply blooming from her.

Mario was surprised by it but he smiled, gladly changing the route for her. Stopping at a tall office building, Meggy and Mario went in and searched for Phoenix Wright's office. At the reception desk, they saw the man himself, talking to two younger lawyers in red and yellow. 

The secretary, seeing the duo, called out to Phoenix. "Ooh, looks like someone got a nice bouquet!"

Phoenix, seeing the familiar faces by the desk, excused himself from his co-workers before greeting the M&M duo. "Hello Mario, Meggy! It's been a while. Do you guys need more legal help?"

"No, Mario's just here to help Luigi out." Mario holds out the bouquet, red roses as the order said.

Phoenix grabs it from his hands and examines the card attached. From reading it, he grew a fond smile on his face. "Thanks for the delivery," he said.

Like a polite student, Meggy raised her hand. "Um, actually, I could use some advice. Between friends, if that's okay."

Phoenix tilted his head, gears turning in his mind, before he giver her a nod. "Sure, why don't we take a walk?" He said before turning to the secretary, handing the flowers to her. "Truce..."

"Don't worry, I'll let them know," Trucy reassured. "Just be back before we need to meet for lunch."

"Oh, yeah," Phoenix chuckles. His face then turned serious, almost grim. It was enough to know it was supposed to be mocking. "Wright, I reserved this days ago and you're here drenched in rainwater. This is what happens when you're late," he impersonated with a mid-Atlantic accent before returning to his normal self. "Alright then, take the wheel. We all know how Apollo was last time."

"HEY!" A shout can be heard from another room. "That wasn't even my fault!"

Phoenix and Trucy shake their heads. He guides Mario and Meggy out, and to a nearby park. Mario had some packages to deliver nearby so he left the other two to walk alone.

"So, what's in your mind?" He asks.

 "It's just..." Meggy sighs, trying to tie her thoughts to something cohesive. "A lot has happened."

Meggy goes on to explain what happened after the Nintendo lawsuit. The 'It's Gotta Be Perfect' incident, Western Spaghetti. Mr Puzzles, Leggy. With the Crew, every day is another adventure but it's starting to take a toll on her sometimes.

"Everything I am was because of One-Shot Wren," she explains. "Splatfest, Desti. I idolized him so much that I didn't know what to do with myself after what happened. I get where he was coming from, I do. But he hurt my friends, me. It's like I lived through a lie, my entire life. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"I see." He nods emphatically. "Y'know, you remind me of a friend. He, too, idolized someone, put them on a pedestal. I think it was because he knew what he lost, and he wished he could have it back. Like you, he pursued the same career his idol had, following every guideline to a 'T'. When he discovered his idol was nothing but a cruel man, he felt lost. What else can you do when you are just a pawn in someone else's game?" 

Phoenix pulls out a golden locket from his blazer pocket, clicking the tiny latch open. "So, he went to rediscover himself. What it means to be a prosecutor, was what he told me. He found that answer, pursuing the truth. He taught me a lot of things, and I guess I did the same for him."

Phoenix hands the locket to Meggy, to finally see what was inside. It was a small family portrait. Other than Phoenix, there was another man around the same age, his face more sharper and with warm gray hair. Then there were two teen girls, one with a raven black ponytail, and another girl that Meggy recognized as the secretary she just met. What caught her eye was the gold rings both men wore.

"Wait, you're married?" She asks, handing the locket back.

Indeed, there was a golden band on his ring finger. He laughs. "Not a lot of people suspect the infamous Turnabout Terror being married to the city's Chief Prosecutor. Yes, before we got into law, we were childhood friends."

"Ah, well congrats! You seem to have a nice family."

 "I do. And don't think we don't have our hardships. The point is, Meggy, it's not too late to rediscover who you are. If you want to continue with Splatfest, do it. If you want to continue doing law, do it. But do it for yourself, not to prove something to anyone. Like I said, the truth can help you a lot when you want to find it."

"Thanks, I really needed this," Meggy says, giving a firm nod. The spark that once was lost in her soul started to come back once more.

Mario comes back to get Meggy, and both say goodbye to the lawyer. Meggy soon learned about the postcard idea Tari proposed and wanted to help Mario out, thinking it was a great idea. After the deliveries, they went along filming postcards for everyone.

Luigi and Shroomy prepare a giant flower float for an incoming parade. Melony and Swag presenting the publishing gathering of her newest book. Boopkins having a friendly hangout with Hatsune Miku, talking about anime. Tari and her friends are in a gaming tournament. Bob trying, and failing, to get rich at a nearby casino. Saiko and Kaizo performing in a live audience.

After gathering all of the film, Mario went to go edit them in Four's room. Four, being a content creator and all, would surely have the best editing software.

Pulling the app up, Mario noticed Four left a project open, labeled "video3_draftdraft(unfinished)".

"Huh, a 10-hour compilation of Kermit clips..." Mario concludes by skimming through the video. Not thinking too much about it, he shrugs. "Ah, classic SMG4, he forgot to save and close out." Mario went ahead and saved it, dragging the file to the 'Complete' folder Four had. The outlier, the rest of the files in that folder were either labeled "final" or "(ready)". 

"All done," he proclaims with a thumbs-up. "Now, time to do the postcard."

After editing the videos into a single one, Meggy came to check in on how he was doing. Overall, it looks awesome. Except for one thing...

"What do you guys want?" Three asks. Of course, he could be annoyed but he was more confused by the comedically large camera Mario held. "And what's with the giant camera?"

"We're gonna send SMG4 a video postcard!" Mario said before Meggy chimed in, "It's almost complete, we just need something from you."

Hearing this, Three smirked. "Well then, I'll gladly make a clip all about me!"

"SMG3, be serious," Meggy says. "This isn't time for you to gloat, you can do that any other time. It's more than a postcard, it's to show that we care about SMG4 as his friends."

"Friends?" SMG3 repeated, his smirk fading away to a new mix of expression, bashfulness and denial. He looks away, crossing his arms. "Uh, no. No, we aren't friends."

Both Meggy and Mario shared a suspicious yet amusing brow. Yeah, sure. "So.... can we film?" Mario asks.

"No."

Mario and Meggy blinked, surprised. "What? Why?"

"Because I said so."

Knowing Three, perhaps too well, Meggy knows he's hiding something. "Well, if you want to, you can just film it yourself and send us the clip. We'll leave you be, c'mon Red."

Three watched as M&M duo walked back to the Castle before being back in the cafe. Nearby Eggdog barked, warning him that it was almost time for his stream. "You're right, thanks Eggdog." He patted Eggdog's head. "Pfft, sending a sappy video to SMG4. As if!"

He went ahead to stream Mario Party for tonight, the usual routine. After thanking the chat for the subs and donations, he logged off and pulled out his notebook to write about the day. Just as he turned to a blank page, his finger stopped at a particular page and he stopped to see what it was. It was the drawing he drew at the end of WOTFI 2023, of him and SMG4 sharing a coffee together. Three's face softens.

It's such a phenomenon, isn't it?

Rivals, friends, none of it matters when it comes to Four and Three. They would always cross each other's paths, bounded by a cosmic link. And yet, the roles they play were already set in stone the moment they landed in the Mushroom Kingdom. Good and bad, light and dark.

Two sides of the same coin.

It was always one pressing the other, to keep on their toes. Three supposed that was the thrill of it all, his life ever more exciting. He always wondered if Four felt the same way. If he suspected that it was the case, then it would be even more proof that they can keep up each other's pace. Three knows Four, and Four in return. It's what essentially saved Four from the 'perfect' incident.

Other than Four, no one else could truly understand. Even with Four, there are secrets Three hoped they would never see the light of day. It was the role he was chosen part, and the show must go on. If he revealed all of himself to the rest of the world, surely people wouldn't be happy about it. Hell, people already despised him for not being threatening anymore. How far was he truly going to go for them? For Four?

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he supposed he could do a clip.

Indeed, take after take, he tried to make a video he was satisfied with. But no matter what he did, his words weren't right. His silence wasn't right. Naturally, he was frustrated at that fact but he pushed himself to give one last take.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Looking over their shoulders, Three's eyes chased after the mouse cursor. He already sent the video to Meggy, trusting her more than Mario. Three already knew Mario would tease him for what he essentially said to Four. Regardless, he kept an eye on the M&M duo editing the video, occasionally warning them to not look at his clip. To not even think of listening to it.

After saving the video, Meggy exported the final video to Mario's phone. "And, I think we're done!" Task completed, Mario and her share a high-five.

Three reminded, "You better delete my clip from your messages, Squid."

"Don't worry, I got it," Meggy reassured, rolling her eyes. She shows her phone screen as proof that she has in fact double-deleted the video. 

"Yippee! Mario can't wait to see Four's reaction!" Mario cheered. When Mario sends the video to Four, a warning pops up on the screen, No signal. "Meggy?"

Meggy looks over the phone Mario shoved in her hands. "Hmm, that's strange. There should be a signal on the island, let me call Auri."

It took a couple of rings but Auri finally responded. "Meggy! I'm so sorry," Auri apologized, his voice sounding like he was about to cry.

"Auri, calm down," Meggy instructed with patience. "What happened?"

"I promised I would find your friend. But when the ship arrived, I was running late and he wasn't at the port when I got there. I tried looking everywhere, but I've lost him."

"Hey, it'll be alright. Maybe he went off on his own," she reasoned, but it was clear that she was starting to get stressed out.

"I'll call the hotel." Three pulled out his phone and dialed the number Four gave to them, putting it in speaker mode.

The receptionist answered, "Hello, this is Hotel Aurora. How can we help you?"

"Hey. Listen, we're looking for a friend who booked a room in your hotel. His name's SMG4."

A pause, the muffled sound of the keyboard typing in the background.

"Sorry, sir, but we don't have anyone under the name SMG4."

"What are you talking about?" Mario jumped in, confused. "He was the winner of that giveaway the Rizz Soda company had."

"What giveaway? We hadn't received anything from any company about that."

Meggy, Mario, and Three all looked at each other, their eyes widened at the implications. It's only been a few days, where in the world is Four?

The Showgrounds went into complete chaos. The Crew tried contracting Four with no response. They contacted the cruise that took Four over sea and according to their logs, Four never got off that ship. Meggy asked Auri for a team to search the island.

Waiting was agony. But what else could they do?

Mario apparently did, suggesting to use the tracker on Four's phone. It worked last time when Mr. Puzzles planned with Puzzlevision. After contacting the phone company and requesting Four's last location, they couldn't believe what they heard next.

Four's phone was in the Mushroom Kingdom. As if he never left.

The Crew immediately contacted everyone they knew to create a search party. Bowser, Shroomy, the military, FM & X, Wario, Waluigi, the Anti-cast, all of the Mario recolors. All of the volunteers as well as the Crew gathered outside the SMG4 Castle while Meggy stood on a stage with a megaphone.

"Alright, everyone. SMG4 could be here in the Mushroom Kingdom but the tracker couldn't pinpoint where it is! We need to split up to cover more ground. If anyone finds him, contact us and tell us where he is." Meggy scans over everyone's worried faces. She takes a stable breath, someone has to be a pillar. "Just be careful out there. We'll get SMG4 home."

The crowd scattered, each going their own way, but Meggy pulled Mario aside. "Red, I know it might be impossible but there's a place I want to check out," she explained and held up her Splattershott. "Want to be my backup?"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

BOOM

Meggy and Mario busted in through the office door, a trail of unconscious patients on the floor behind them. Ugh, the Meme Rehab. They didn't exactly have a choice but it was better to be safe than sorry. They glared at the man who was now cowering in the corner of the room. 

Meggy goes over and picks him up by the collar. "Alright, Mr. Niceguy, where's SMG4?"

Mr. Niceguy merely stared back, confused. "SMG4? But I haven't—"

Meggy slaps him, interrupting. "Don't play dumb! Tell us where you're hiding him!"

The doctor lets out a high-pitched scream. "I swear I don't know where he is! I swear it on my mother's ashes, please don't hurt me!"

"Uh, Meggy." She turns to Mario, who's pointing out at all the containers filled with other patient's brain lobes. "Mario thinks he's telling the truth. No SMG4 lobe here."

"The red guy is right, I would've done another lobotomy on him if he came back. I swear that he didn't, though."

Meggy sighs, exasperated. "Great, another dead end. I'll let the rest know then." She lets the doctor go, to send a text to the search party's group chat. 

"He was such a great patient," Mr. Niceguy, mutters. "Well, if he wasn't so weird."

Mario and Meggy shared a confused look, then to the doctor. She asks, "What do you mean by weird?"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Hearing a ding from his back pocket, Three saw Meggy's message of Four not being in the Meme Rehab. As much as it seemed uplifting, It only made Three's concerning suspicions grow larger. Walking down the path, he spotted something familiar. He ran and picked it up, it was Four's phone. Turning it on, he saw the dozens of abandoned calls and messages, dating all the way back to the day SMG4 supposedly left for that vacation.

Looking ahead, he saw a figure on the horizon, a dot of blue, and his blood ran cold. He begged each and every star, hoping Four wouldn't be back here. But he was. Three sent a quick text to the group, telling them that he found him and where, before he ran towards that dreaded place.

Four was standing by the edge of the Pit of Peach's Castle ruins, looking down at the demonic gateway.

Once Three managed to get closer, he slowed down his pace to a halt, afraid that one wrong move would scare Four into falling in. "SMG4?"

Four doesn't say a word but he slightly tilts his head, listening.

Three huffed in disbelief. Is Four serious right now, he asked to himself. "What, you're not gonna say anything? Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been going around like headless chickens, they thought you got kidnapped! I thought..." He stops himself, wanting to say more, but genuine worry wins within him. "What are you doing here?"

A beat. A roll of thunder rumbling overhead.

"You guys shouldn't be jumping to conclusions," Four said, his tone unusually calm. "I'm fine, SMG3. I actually had a great time during my break. It helped me with a lot of things."

Three approached him slowly as light rain started to drizzle. There was another ding from his phone but he shut it off. "C'mon, let's just get out of here."

"I've been thinking back at all the stuff I did. What I chose." Four shakes his head with sorrowful regret. "No matter what I do, everything goes wrong."

Three's arms reached out. "Four..."

Once Three's hand was hovering over Four's shoulder, Four gripped his arm. Within a blink, Three was flung into the air and slammed, the impact causing the ground to crack. Three groaned, thinking that Four might've broken his back, until Four picked him up by the throat. Three's hands immediately tried to pry himself free but Four's grip was firm. With enough strength, Three looked at Four and he felt his heart sink.

Four's eyes, they were pink.

A familiar goo enveloped his eyes, the pink plunging into the dark void. His expression was blank, before it suddenly formed new eyes. Jagged and irregular, glowing white. It wasn't Four anymore. He wasn't even human. One eye was shaped like a triangle and the other was circular. After a blink, a wicked grin crept on Four's face.

"I should've saved the USB over you," Four said, his voice becoming an eerie echo. "It would've made things a lot better, wouldn't you agree?"

Three choked, "Four... don't..."

By Three responding at all, Four frowned, his eyes cycled into different ones. "You have no idea how many hours, weeks, I sacrificed for that perfect video! And then, you had the audacity to say we're friends, you just wanted to save your own skin," Four snapped. After a second, Four took a breath, returning back to his triangular and circular set of eyes. "But that's about to change, and everything will be perfect."

Maintaining his grip, Four holds Three over the edge. "Goodbye, SMG3."

The unnatural strength gathered in his arm, Four tossed Three into the pit, and with that, time seemed to slow down. From the corner of his eye, Three could see the satisfaction beaming off of this man. It isn't Four.

But it was too late. There was nothing Three could do other than to meet his demise.

Suddenly, a force grabbed him by the side, and was pulled out of the way to solid ground with a thump. Three placed a hand over his head and sat up, to discover that the force was Mario. The red plumber looked exasperated, more of worry than anything else.

Four asked, surprised, "What?"

There was a flinch in his eye, as if it was sensing something from behind. Then, when time slowed once more, he dodged the paintball that raced towards him, missed by a hair. The paint, along with the goo covering him, was gone. Four spun around, a trail of pink light from his eyes shimmered like a comet, until he landed in a defensive stance. He moved like a glitch. As the trail faded away, he growled at his newfound threat.

The terrified Crew ran over the hill, Meggy leading them with her Splattershott. "SMG3, get away from that thing!"

She takes another shot. Effortlessly, Four manages to dodge that shot as well. He glared at Three, a silent promise that he'll be back, before escaping. A clash of thunder strikes the ground and the Crew loses sight of him. As Mario helped Three up, the Crew finally reached to them.

"SMG3, did SMG4 look different to you?" Mario asked, concerned.

"Yeah, his eyes were pink. The goo...." Three said, still stunned by what occurred. But he shakes his head,  confusion and frustration taking over. "Can someone tell me what's going on?! Why the fuck does SMG4 have that goo from the incident?"

The Crew looked at each other, unsure what to say to Three. What can they say? Meggy, mustering up the strength, took a step forward. "There's something you should know."

Recalling everything from the interrogation in the Meme Rehab, the surgeon explained that during the lobotomy, he discovered something unnatural in Four's body. It looked like goo. When he tried poking at it, the goo grew eyes and screeched. He felt like his ears were about to bleed so he quickly finished stitching Four's head up. His curiosity, however, got the better of him.

Taking a sample of Four's blood, he examined it under a microscope and observed tiny black specks plaguing the red blood cells before consuming them. Becoming one.

 "It never left," Meggy explains. "That goo has been taking over SMG4 this whole time, reacting to his emotions. He said that, at the rate that it was going, there won't be anything left of him." Her last words faded into a mutter.

Three's eyes searched Meggy's face, unable to process what she just said. "Wha...what are you saying?" He asks, Meggy responds with only visible hesitation. 

"Meggy." She refused to look at him so he grabbed her by the arms. "What are you saying?"

Meggy takes a breath, her mind trying to find a way how to put it delicately for Three. But in every way she sliced it, it just wouldn't be fair for this man. She had to tell him, the way it has to be.

"SMG4... is dead."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

He wanted this to end. Begged for it. He wanted someone to shake him by the shoulders, to wake him up. From his nightmare, from this sick joke. This level of cruelty, he wanted it to stop.

This was no nightmare.

It has been a week since the Crew last saw "SMG4". It was best for it to stay that way, but they knew that thing would stop at nothing to take its vengeance. While the rest of the Crew was preparing the Castle for a grand meeting with the search party volunteers, Meggy was on the other SMGs. Other than the Crew, they were on an expedition and the first to receive the news. Currently rushing back to the Mushroom Kingdom from essentially dropping everything immediately.

"This storm is affecting us a lot more than what we were expecting," SMG1 reports. "But, we promise you that we are on our way. Just stay put."

"Okay then, bye." Meggy hangs up. With a shaky exhausted breath, her hands held her head. Tari, noticing Meggy's distress, walks over and brings her into a side hug.

Boopkins asks her, "Well, what now?"

"Once SMG1 and 2 are here, they can handle it."

"And do what? Use their meme powers to scare the goo away?"

Saiko exclaimed, "Bob!"

Paying no mind, Bob points at Meggy. "You said it yourself, that goo basically went full 'Venom' and took over SMG4! If he is dead, it's going to find a new host."

Boopkins says, "Bob, you're not suggesting..."

"Oh, I'm very much suggesting." Bob pulls out a rocket launcher out of thin air. "It's time to obliterate that son of a bitch."

"He's right." 

Everyone else, besides Bob, pans over to Meggy in shock. "What?"

"Now that I thought about it, SMG4 hasn't been himself ever since the incident," Meggy said. "It's more than just trauma. Sometimes he's strong out of nowhere, or how he got good aim back at WOTFI. He's been acting strange this whole time, I just couldn't see it."

The rest exchanged guilty looks, perhaps they were really to blind to notice. And Four paid the price.

"We managed to save him the first time but..." Meggy looks over to the door to Four's bedroom. "It was because Four was still in there."

Melony asks, "And, what if..."

Meggy shakes her head. "No. He's really gone. I think, to save everyone, the goo has to go. For good. That's what he would've wanted."

The room filled with silence, it was almost suffocating. Four's behavior, the debate was did they see or did they wish not to see? Either way, this was the price and they agreed that death would give mercy to Four's soul from the pain and suffering he had to endure.

Without anyone noticing, Mario slipped into Four's room, he needed to talk to him. The room was dark except for some sunlight peeking through the closed curtains. Just like outside, it was silent here. Other than Mario was Three, curled up in Four's bed, refusing to face the door. His hair was in a loose and greasy mess, and he wore a light gray hoodie. It was one of Four's.

Mario walked over to him, passing by plates of food pilling up on Four's desk. Untouched. He sat on the edge opposite where Three lay, who was unfazed of the mattress shifting by the weight.

"...SMG4 isn't dead," Mario said. A beat. He elaborates, "Mario doesn't know how, he just does. SMG3, you're his partner. You guys are cosmically linked. You must've felt it if it broke, right?"

SMG3 stayed silent in response. Mario took a breath, steadying himself on what he was about to say.

 "They're planning to go after him and..." His voice starts to quiver. "They can't kill him! I can't! I didn't ask to kill my best friend, SMG3. I... don't think I can."

Silent, once again. Mario lets out a sigh and stands up. "I just don't want to lose another friend." He leaves Three alone in the room, the soft click of the door closing behind him.

What Mario couldn't see were the silent tears that rolled down Three's face. The news of SMG4's death. The world completely changed, like someone pulled a rug from under his feet.

And nothing was the same again.

The minute they returned to the Castle, Three had beelined to Four's room. Perhaps because he was still in denial, he tidied the room up. Four was never exactly an organized person anyway. Three made his bed, dusted his shelves, and threw out the food takeout bags. He held on to that hope, that Four was gonna come in at any second and be normal again. That everything will be fine again.

That he'll be back.

Even when tears started to form in the corners of his eyes, he refused and refused and refused goddamnit. He'd known Four for years, he had been his long-time rival for meme's sake. Four was stubborn, and resilient. The sight of his determination shined brilliantly in Three's eyes, it blinded him as a rival but admired it as a friend. So, why? Why was this the thing that stopped Four?

Those thoughts spiraled in his mind as he folded up one of Four's hoodies. From its touch, Three remembered when his partner wore it, that tender smile on his face. It was always reserved for Three. One memory was all it took for Three to terms with this undeniable fact, breaking into an uncontrollable sob and burying himself in the hoodie. Back then, when he had control over the YouTube Remote, he asked to take Four's place.

This was what he asked for. And there he was, a complete mess.

After that, as the rest of the world was, he went numb. His friends came and went to check up on him. Food, condolences. They begged to say something, anything.

He didn't.

Sitting himself up, he looked down at what he clenched in his fist. It was a small USB that appeared identical to the pod Four landed in the Mushroom Kingdom with. Blue and white, fashioned in a bracelet. Ever since their pods flew away, these USB keys were left behind. During the confrontation at the Pit, Three somehow yanked it off from Four's wrist.

Being isolation, it gave him time to think and one question remained, where did this goo even come from, before the 'perfect' incident? That keyboard, it must be a lead. It doesn't matter how many precautions he had to prevent something like this from happening, he needed to find answers. He already failed Four once, this was the only way he could make it up to him.

With what Mario just told him, he was running out of time.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

"Hey, Gary. I know this is out of the blue, but I need a favor."

In the depths of the Dark Web, a light passes through the underground labyrinth. Three, a flashlight in one hand, fidgeted with the drawstring of Four's hoodie. No one must know where the realm's Archives are, much less that he was one of the Meme Guardians who had access to it.

"Is this about your cafe of yours?"

At last, he reached to a stone-bricked door, moss creeping through the cracks, and his hood was pulled off to allow himself to be scanned. With a confirming beep, the door rolled itself open and a computer covered in dust awaited for him inside. He swiped some of it off with a sleeve to find a small rectangular keyhole.

"No, not this time. I need you for a mission, you're the only one in the Dark Web I can trust."

Taking it off around his neck, Three held his black and indigo USB key, strung as a pendant. He inserted it into the keyhole and twisted it. The room suddenly awakens in light, rows of digital manilla folders circled at the ready.

After Three pressed a couple of buttons and scanned his photo, the database became a hurricane, narrowing down from millions. Only a few dozen closely matched the input he put in. He picked up each and every folder, his eyes skimming past unnecessary details until it came to one.

A folder, dated back years ago, long before he was a Guardian, perhaps held a start...

CLIENT NAME — Winston [REDACTED]

AGE — [REDACTED]

PRODUCT — Failed Lab Subject #18

He read through the shopkeeper's notes, how a man asked for a transmutation device that is compatible and adapts to biological matter. "The new evolution" was what he said. The buyer claimed that was a personal experiment on plants, Three highly doubts that it was.

From one file to another, Three chased a lead of this "subject #18" into a spiraling rabbit hole. A laboratory, unsanctioned experimentation. A weapon. All to lead to one name:

Project Horus

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Everyone in the Castle stood around the table, a sense of mourning settling in. Who knew it would have to come to this?

"How did the goo even get to SMG4?" Tari wondered. "I thought it went down with Peach's Castle."

Luigi responds, "Someone must've brought it back, maybe the keyboard wasn't needed."

"Well, SMG1 and 2 better be here soon and fix this mess." Saiko stepped up, "Forget the kingdom, the whole world will be in danger."

"As if they were there the first time," Swag said, being reminded of the 'perfect' incident. He pulls out a grenade. "I'd say let's blow that goo to smithereens.

Then, they all started to jump in with their own suggestions, shouting over each other that their idea was better. Bowser offered his airship, Steve his buckets of lava, the military their tanks. Bob with his (illegally-obtained) weapons, Saiko her hammer.

But when the question came of who was going to be the one to finish Four, they beat around the bush.

Mario looked at all of them in disbelief, a pit forming in his stomach. It just couldn't be real. His best friend, one he had known for years, was gone. And here they were, debating how to kill the shell that was once Four.

Meggy could feel his pain and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Red, I'm..."

The doors of the Castle burst open, distracting everyone from their argument. To their surprise, "SMG3?"

Indeed it was. Three, abandoning the hoodie and loose hair, marched in with a fresh new look. He wore a purple belt holding his black overalls, and his iconic gloves inverted in color. On one arm, he wore a red and white checkered band while the other had a simple stubbed black band. Gary was close behind him with a cart full of weaponry.

"None of those are gonna work. That goo mutated from too many experiments that it's practically invincible." Three goes over to the table and leans on its surface with his knuckles.

"How would you know that?" Bob asked.

"The goo was created by a secret government experiment to explore and survive the Great Beyond," he elaborated. "Or am I wrong, Chris?"

They all turn to Chris, then back to Three. Bewildered but it was clear that they demanded an explanation.

Swag steps in defensively. "Hold up, you can't just accuse Chris of anything! Besides, there's no..." But he looked over at Chris, who was tense. "Chris?"

"I'm not accusing Chris of anything, calm down," Three says to Swag. "He might've known about the experiment but he didn't do any of that stuff himself."

Though he was reluctant, Chris sighed in defeat. He confessed, "It's true. I remember when the whole base was in total chaos when the subject managed to break out of its containment chamber. Project Horus."

"After that, it got captured and experimented on twice. A lab in the Dark Web, and Mr Puzzles," Three adds. The Crew freezes with a note of recognition in that name. He changes the subject, "We're not going to be here all day pointing fingers on who's going to be the one to kill the goo. I'll do it."

Meggy intervenes, "SMG3, I don't think..."

"I was SMG4's Meme Guardian partner. It's only fair that I'd be the one to take it down." He looked over to Mario and lowered his head apologetically.

Chris asks, "If the government couldn't even control it, what makes you think you got a chance at this? You barely made it last time."

"SMG4 was the one who gave it to us," Three replied as Gary tossed him a black and red rifle.

The Dark Web lab's weapon, dubbed "The Ultimate Virus", has a single "bullet" powerful enough not only to kill any entity, but it erase their existence entirely. This includes erasing any memory of it from everyone who interacted with said entity, in this case, the goo since it's all that remained.

Why remember the monster that killed Four?

Though, it is useless by itself, without two particular keys. Well, except if you happened to be lucky. Inserting his and Four's USB in their designated slots on each side, the rifle sparked to life. Its miniature lights glow red, ready to fire in Three's command.

Three's eyes masked with determination, vengeance. "Whoever wants to join, prepare yourselves because there will be no coming back."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

There were a few who would know about this place. Passing from the Showgrounds and through the woods, there is a flower field on a nearby cliff, overlooking the sea. It's quite calm, the only company other than oneself was the sound of the whispering breeze and the waves kissing the rocks below. Right above, there was a spectacle of stars.

Three twirled one of the white lilies between his fingers, his cap laid next to where he sat. As expected like an old friend, the wind blew through his ponytail that was tied with a long white ribbon. A finger delicately trailed on its petals, his face in utter turmoil and loss.

"SMG3, are you sure you're up to this?"

Four was the one who brought him to this place. Three had a nightmare one time and was brought here to help with his nerves. Ever since then, this was their secret spot. At least, it used to. Now, it all belongs to Three.

"My partner is gone, Gary. If I can avenge him by killing Horus, then I won't regret anything."

The goo, "Horus" was the name the Dark Web lab gave, was the one who took SMG4 away from him. Three could put the rest of the blame onto Mr Puzzles. Or Winston, whatever his damn name is. Perhaps, in another timeline, he would've given Mr Puzzles a chance to redeem himself. Three used to be like him, after all. But to go this far, this has to end. He has to end it.

He had contacted Gary for a favor, to bring in the best of the best of his inventory for his friends to defend with. With the material strong enough to withstand Horus, they'll be fine. However, there was a doubt, lingering in the back of his mind. One he wasn't willing to show to the Crew.

"SMG4, if you're still in there somehow, show me a sign," Three said. "And I won't shoot, I promise."

He let the wind take the lily from his hand and watched until it flew far, far away. After putting on his cap that hid his ponytail, he got up and walked back into the Showgrounds. The Crew needed a leader for tomorrow, after all.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

His pink eyes stared above, fascinated by the stars shining ever so brightly. You get tired of the same old red tentacles roaming around in this pit. Not that what was left of Peach's Castle helped his boredom either. But the stars, he didn't know why he was so captivated by them.

Horus supposed this was the consequence of waiting in one place.

Suddenly, he spotted some movement and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what the object was. Though it was impossible, he thought it might've been a falling star. It didn't seem to present any threat. He curiously waited until he was able to catch it. It was a white lily. His eyes flashed blue.

"...Three?"

But he shook his head and dropped the lily, eyes returning to pink. No, he needs to focus on what's important.

The host must live.

✧-✧-✧

[ To be continued... // PART 1 // PART 3 ]

That's right, my dear fellows, this was part 2 of Concept #5 all along [*insert villain laugh here*]

[blakeswritingimagines]

The Vow

Summary: Being married to the rouge prince was no easy task at least most thought so, being his wife and best friend did nothing but make everyday of your life better and better....until you forget all about him

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 4.4k

You softly groaned as you stretched in the large bed that had enough room for what might be a small feast, until you rolled over onto your other side and slowly opened your eyes seeing your husband who was often nothing but a brute cuddled up to your side also slowly waking up which caused you to smile to yourself. Lightly dragging your fingertips across his pale skin taking in the slow tender moment before your days were started even if you knew you could go see him throughout the day.

He felt your fingers on his skin and stir, his eyes remaining shut as he leaned in slightly and bury his face in your neck. Scenting your skin, he savours your presence while he still can, before eventually opening his eyes. "Hello." He nuzzled your shoulder. Daemon smiled as your fingers traced his skin. It was a soft way to wake up, rather than the way he was normally woken up. He rolled his hand around searching to take your hand in his own. "We could stay here like this, you know." Daemon spoke softly to you, his hand tracing your face.

Feeling your eyes flutter shut at your husband's tender touch not able to help the smile that brightened due to his words, shaking your head knowing as much as you loved to stay put in his arms wasting the day away together you knew you both would be far to busy and everyone would never let up about needing something from one or the other "I love the way you think my darling, you know I'll be around when you need attention just come simply find me." Daemon sighed, knowing you were right. He rolled on top of you, giving you a kiss upon your lips. "Oh don't you worry, my love, your Daemon will find you wherever you are." He spoke in an amusingly formal tone, his hands now moving down your body.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders smiling up at him, kissing him back softly as you enjoyed the feeling of his firm lips against your own then smiled at his words "I know you will...you always do my Daemon". Giving him another sweet kiss on the lips as you felt his rough hands move across your body before you slowly pushed him up as you sat up "I'm not falling for another five minutes today my love." Daemon laughed slightly at your tease but he was still slightly on the offensive. He pushed you back down to the bed and laid next to you. "You sure? Seems to me like you're enjoying this very much." Daemon spoke with a bit of a smirk on his face, his eyes tracing your bare body. I am a lucky man. He thought.

You sighed playfully as you were forced to lay back down as you looked up at him, nodding your head happily as you cupped his face in a delicate manner "I always enjoy being with you, but we're meant to be busy today my darling". Doing your best to not wrap your arms around him and simply go back to sleep as you attempted to sit up once more. Daemon sighed slightly but made no effort to hold you down this time. Instead he leaned over you once more, planting a soft kiss on your lips once more. "Fiiiine, my love." Daemon said in a playful tone, before leaning back and rolling over to get dressed. "I suppose I should probably get out of this bed…I'm sure that our duties have been waiting too long." Daemon spoke, as if the prospect of dealing with all of his affairs was already a headache.

Laughing as you kissed him back once more before finally getting up and getting dressed, working like a well oiled machine along side of him as he helped you tighten your gown before you tenderly helped him get dressed after being married for so long neither of you saw need for servants anymore. gently cupping his face in your hands as you smiled then pulled him close as you placed kisses all over his face only ending with placing a kiss on his forehead "Only for a few hours I promise love, I believe you can handle that much." Daemon laughed as you kissed him all over and placed one upon his forehead. "I suppose I can handle it, but only if I get to return here when we have some time." He said with a sly smile, his hands still resting on you. Daemon loved being married to you, and he would want nothing more than to spend every waking moment of his life with you, but for now he needed to return to his duties. Perhaps you can help me with some of them…afterwards. Daemon smiled to himself.

Daemon laughed as you dressed him and then put more kisses on him. You were such a tender woman and Daemon loved your touch, your kisses. "I don't think I'll be able to survive such a long separation." Daemon said, his mouth in a small smirk as he placed his hands upon your face. He kissed you back, lingeringly this time. "Perhaps we can escape just a few more minutes…" Daemon whispered against your lips. You leaned into his touch as your eyes closed taking in the comfortable feeling of being wrapped in his arms, looking up at him as you kissed him back lovingly before taking your time to pull away as you looked into his violet eyes and smiled "I said I wasn't falling for it" You spoke before giving him a few quick kisses before you had started walk out of the room ready to start your day so you could finish early and be back beside him as if you both were still newlyweds.

Daemon's face widened at your smirk, as if you were teasing him. Which he supposed you were. "Oh, my sweet lady wife of mine, why are you so cruel?" Daemon said in jest, as if you were actually doing anything wrong by leaving him. "I miss you already." Daemon would tease back as he did not pursue you, for he knew you would return. You always did after all. You couldn't help but laugh at your husband's playful words as you walked away from him knowing he was going to be even more dramatic, going about your day making sure your focus was only on the work in front of you even going out of your way to help Rhaenyra a little bit as the two held a small awkward conversation. Going outside toward the dragonpit seeing your baby Saphira taking some time to yourself as you got fresh air on top of the large beast going into the air with a smile on your face at least before your dragon turned which left you unstable as you fell hitting your head and blacking out as the workers quickly got help.

Daemon was in the middle of some sort of royal affair or meeting with important lords and ladies. It wasn't that terribly important, it was just something he had to do to make sure the realm was properly run. He would get the most important tasks done earlier in the day as to not disrupt his wonderful schedule. Daemon was just stepping out of his chamber for the day when he spotted something unusual. He saw one of the dragon keepers carrying out a woman who had seemingly been knocked out. His curiosity was piqued at first but he quickly turned to concern as he rushed to your side after noticing it was you.

"What in the seven hells happened?" He asked the keeper as he took you away from him. As he spoke to you he lightly grasped your hand, hoping you would wake up soon as your consciousness was all he cared about at this moment in time. The workers all stiffened once the rouge prince especially knowing how protective Daemon was over you, clearing their throats as well as sharing looks before one finally spoke up "She said she wanted some fresh air with Saphira but the next thing we knew she had hit her head and passed out" Not wanting to be on the bad end of the prince's rage they knew to take anything with you seriously even with hitting your head and now as a maester was going to look you over.

"And you just left her alone?" Daemon questioned. "Saphira?" He asked, looking to see if the dragon had attacked you. He knew the dragon would do no such thing, but he wanted to cover all his bases. He knelt by your side and felt your forehead, hoping it was nothing serious. "Please dear, wake up." Daemon whispered, his voice laden with anxiety as he felt your hand. The workers shrugged having been tending to the other dragons while you were with Saphira "We figured she'd be fine, the dragon is fine nor does Saphira seem as if anything happened", Helping take you to the maesters where they laid you down and left as the maester started checking and looking over you better after getting the details of what happened.

Daemon's face was full of worry as he stood beside your unconscious form. He couldn't help but feel guilty. His mind raced as he wondered how he could have left you alone and this happen. I have failed to keep her safe. Daemon whispered to himself. Daemon's heart seemed to skip a beat when the maester was checking you. Not knowing if you were even alive or not. When you were being treated he waited alongside you, just watching you in anxious anticipation for you to open your eyes. After enough time passed the maester sighed before looking over at you with a slight shake of his head as he spoke "She's still breathing but might be out for longer due to the heavy hit to the head, it might take some time but I'm unaware of how long."

Daemon was relieved to find out that you were still breathing. He was in a position of power and yet he couldn't do anything for you. All he could do was wait. Daemon looked at you, watching your gentle features and waiting for you to wake up. Daemon's hand caressed you gently, he hoped you couldn't feel it in your state but he wanted it to anyway. Weeks passed of not much changing nor did anyone attempt to mention perhaps it was best to let go especially with how angry the prince had become, that not even his brother Viserys or Rhaenyra could help calm him down like you often did but once you slowly opened your eyes with a heavy breath as you slowly looked around confused even as the maester came to check on you as your voice came out hoarse "Where am I?".

Daemon rushed to his feet as your eyes reopened. "Y/n! Thank all seven gods you are alive." Daemon spoke with a mix of relief, happiness and guilt. "The gods are merciful today, I thought I had lost you." Daemon said with a breath of relief. "You're on King's Landing, the seat of House Targaryen. You got hit in the head and I've been here for weeks waiting for you." Daemon admitted, feeling nothing but shame for himself. You looked over at the tall man as you winced feeling as if his voice was echoing in your head heavily, tilting your head slightly as you tried to process his words but shook your head not remembering anything as you tried to recall what you were last doing especially hearing you had been out for weeks now "Who are you? and why am I in King's Landing?".

Daemon felt the blood drain from his face. You didn't remember him? You were joking. He looked at you, waiting for you to crack a smile and start laughing. It never came. Daemon slowly moved towards you, taking your hand gently. "My love, I am Daemon Targaryen. We have been married for years now. Your life, it's only just started. But… You don't remember anything?" Daemon questioned, his voice filled with panic. You continued to look at him curiously as you listened closely and tried to place him somewhere you might remember him, feeling bad that he seemed so hurt out about you not knowing him but shook your head as you pulled your hand away from his "No I'm sorry, all I remember is taking a walk than everything went black" Not knowing you had lost years of your life but looked over at the maester who started asking you questions to see what you could remember before he looked over at Daemon scared of his reaction "She has a small case of amnesia."

Amnesia is a kind word for what you have. Daemon thought to himself, his anxiety increasing. He didn't handle the news that you didn't remember him as the man had hoped. Daemon took a moment to gather himself from your sudden news. "Amnesia?" Daemon asked the maester, ignoring the explanation initially. He looked at you, his eyes wide with concern and even a twinge of fear. "My lady wife… Please tell me you remember my name at least." Daemon asked, his voice full of need. You slowly sat up with a small groan of pain as you gently rubbed your head feeling a dull but painful throb, looking up at him once more as you tried to really look at him from his lilc eyes, platinum hair, tall and strong build, only to shake your head again "No I really don't know who you are". Listening as the maester spoke up about how it might take some time for you to feel better but it might do you some well to continue getting rest.

Daemon could feel his heart sink into his stomach. You didn't remember him… You had lost your memory. "You don't know me?" Daemon questioned again. He couldn't believe that that was truly an option. His head was reeling, what did this mean? How does he deal with this? As the maester continued to talk Daemon listened but the words hardly registered in his brain. Slowly he reached his hand out, holding your hand once more. He was not going to let you go again. During the next few days, you had been moved into your own private chambers since you felt weird being alone with Daemon still not remembering him, opting to even sit next to Rhaenyra more even if you couldn't remember her or Viserys who seemed nice when you did talk to him but also who had pushed your work onto someone else in the meantime. Sitting down at the dining table with them all as you bowed your head for prayer waiting until it was done before you started eating feeling excited that Rhaenyra and yourself would be hanging out.

Daemon sat at the table with you and Rhaenyra, his eyes on you at all times. As you prayed Daemon did the same, taking some time to himself pleading witht the gods new or old to hear him. It was good to see your face smiling, even if you didn't remember him. As all of you sat down to eat Daemon kept looking at you, still hoping you would suddenly remember him and everything that had transpired during your marriage. He hoped that deep down he had left his mark on you. That his memory was buried deep within you and only needed to be uncovered. Speaking with Rhaenyra as if nothing was wrong even as the blonde princess agreed that you were married to her uncle, doing your best to go about your routine each day you woke up only to have to ask servants what it was you normally did which often left one of the Targaryens to be told as they stepped in to help you like a small child. Glancing up as you chewed on your food only to see Daemon watching you which caused you to look down at your plate as your brows furrowed "Do you always watch me so closely?".

Daemon smiled softly at your observation, it was as if you were beginning to return your wits even if it was slowly. Daemon had been watching you closely, for you were a puzzle piece he didn't understand. Your amnesia was just a road block that Daemon was determined to overcome. "Of course I do." Daemon said with a smirk, his eyes looking to you, his wife. "It's only natural that I desire to stare at my beautiful wife." Daemon said with a flirtatious tone, hoping to earn some sort of reaction from you. You nodded your head slightly at his words as you squirmed around in your seat slightly instead of flirting back with him like usual, getting up with Rhaenyra once you both finished eating as Rhaenyra gently took you by the hand leading you around as she did most of the talking unless you had questions even as Rhaenyra started to enjoy spending time with you wondering why it had taken so long and you getting hurt for it to happen.

Daemon took notice at your change in demeanor, it seemed as if you were less inclined to flirt and be cheeky when compared to your normal self. You didn't even remember the man you married. It was concerning but Daemon wasn't entirely bothered by it. He felt almost as if you were a new woman to woo, to earn. Daemon wasn't opposed to the idea of winning you over once more. He watched Rhaenyra take you by the hand and lead you away, the two of you looking almost as if you were friends. "Have we found you the perfect friend now?" Daemon asked with a smirk. You looked at Rhaenyra once you felt a nudge in your side and realized he was talking to you, nodding your head as you smiled even if you didn't recall the friendship between yourself and the princess "Rhaenyra has been very helpful with helping me and my day-to-day basics." Having even been spending more time with Viserys as he helped reteach you everything you did before since he had grown to like your way best even if others had an issue with it "She and Viserys have been teaching me about the Targaryen family tree apparently I use to be able to say everyone in order with no mistakes."

Daemon nodded at your words with a soft smile. "I'm glad to see you have company. And the knowledge of the family tree will certainly come with time. You are my wife after all." Daemon said, his voice dripping with flirting even in the presence of his family. He gave you a kiss upon the hand then turned to Rhaenyra. "Keep a close eye upon her and keep her safe." Daemon told Rhaenyra, the tone in his voice a more sincere one. He felt comfortable knowing you were in Rhaenyra's care. You nodded your head feeling good that everyone seemed happy with your progress even if you were still missing so much of your life, watching him closely before pulling your hand away from him as Rhaenyra nodded her head at his words almost offended that he would think she'd let anything happen to you. The two women started walking away as Rhaenyra led you to the gardens feeling the quiet might help as you bit down on your lower lip and looked over at Rhaenyra "Can I ask you something? it's about Daemon himself."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at your request but she shrugged. "Yes, of you course you may." She said with an open smile, curious as to what curiosity you may ask of her. Daemon, as usual, was also listening in on this conversation. He wanted to know what you wanted to know of him. Maybe it was something he could use to slowly get you back on track to remembering him. Sighing but nodded your head happy that the princess had been nothing but easy-going as she helped you remember things, looking down at the ground as you tried to piece your words together before shrugging your shoulders as the words tumbled out past your lips "I've heard...unsavory things about Daemon, that he's quite a brute and has done unspeakable things....is that true?".

Rhaenyra thought for a moment, unsure of how much to tell you. Daemon was her best friend, but he was also her uncle. She did not know how to answer your questions, because honestly, they weren't completely false. Rhaenyra looked for a way to answer without making Daemon seem like a terrible person. "Daemon can be very stubborn." Rhaenyra started, "Sometimes he let's his anger get the best of him. But that's only when he is pushed too far. But what is most important, is that he loves you." Rhaenyra said. You nodded with a small pout on your lips at the answer thinking it over as you recalled some of the things Daemon had done from what you've heard, looking over at the blonde woman again as you shrugged your shoulders at her words "How did we even get together? it sounds like we're nothing but polar opposites, how do he and I even work together in marriage?" Having been too embarrassed and shy to go to Daemon with these questions even if he would be the best person to answer them.

"You two have always been very different, but that's what has drawn you two together." Rhaenyra said with a smile. She believed it too, the differences in Daemon and you were what created the bond between you two. "He may be quite gruff, but he has the softest spot in the Kingdom for you." Rhaenyra said, hoping the words would make you feel better. They were true, Daemon loved you in a way he loved no one else, not even Rhaenyra or his brother Viserys. You slowly nodded along as you listened closely to the words feeling like you were listening to a fariytail, feeling your eyes sting with tears at the thought of Daemon being so tender and you couldn't remember any of it you let out a soft sigh, and nodded your head feeling determined "I want to remember, I'm gonna need more stories about him."

Rhaenyra chuckled at your need for stories which she was not opposed to. "You'll definitely need to remember your wedding to Daemon." She said with enthusiasm. "It was the grandest affair ever. What else do you want to know?" Rhaenyra asked, eager at the idea that your memory might return soon. "I would be more than happy to share anything you want to know." She continued, with a smile on her face. She believed that Daemon deserved to have you back at least. During the next few weeks, You had been learning more about your life and your marriage with Daemon even going as far as to show him small bits of affection, slowly but surely you began to push other's help away wanting to do things for yourself and show you could do it again but kept growing curious as to small gifts for you or being shocked by grand plans before learning it was from Daemon which caused you to seek him out.

Daemon was happy that you were showing him small bits of affection. He knew he would have to earn your love all over again but small touches were good. As you grew curious of gifts and grand plans Daemon was only too glad to tell you whom was behind them. He felt you were beginning to return to him bit by bit, and he wanted nothing more. Daemon felt at ease when you were back with him, and you were beginning to spend more time with him and less time away. It gave Daemon a new sense of hope. You had thanked Dameon for all the sweet and tender gestures he had been giving or showing you, which you found hard to keep the butterflies in your stomach under control but had been doing well as you were still learning more and more only getting curious about certain things but had been spending more time with Rhaenyra and Viserys both of which only now continued talking Daemon up even as you joined Rhaenyra late into the night talking about most things.

Daemon was over the moon to see that little by little you were remembering him and your life with him. He was always so cautious about his love, but as of late Daemon had felt nothing but comfort and happiness when with you. His smiles had become much more frequent. You were back in his life and Daemon was thankful for it. It was the small things that Daemon noticed, seeing how you would speak with confidence, laugh a little more freely, it all added up in his mind. He was on the verge of getting you back. He was certain of it. You rested your head against your arms listening to Rhaenyra speak about all different things, feeling your curiosity grow at mention of something that sounded familiar to you and asked about it which caused the blond princess to explain in detail that it was something connected to Daemon and yorself. Letting out a sharp gasp as your eyes shut tightly and you held your head as the pain from when this all started seemed to be the worst you had ever dealt with even as the blond princess tried asking if you were alright only taking a few minutes before nodding your head as you stood up with no explanation going back to the chambers you once shared with Daemon and opened the door as you stood there shocked and tears in your eyes softly whispering.

"I remember."

[hayakawalove]

Intertwined (Chapter One)

Best Friends and Better Halves, Chapter 1

Summary: You were in 10th grade when you first met Eren Jaeger. Enticing eyes and a big mouth. There was no way you could know how important he would become to you.

As the tendrils of your youth fade away you find yourself confused. Your relationship with him grows more complicated throughout the years, taking you by surprise at every turn.

A story of love, lust, and addiction.

A/N: This has been in the works for 13 months. We're so excited to finally share it. My best friend @zeninsama who is also the coauthor, and I have spent countless hours talking and thinking about this story. They coauthored this with me and we worked really hard.

I do have some warnings. This story delves into addiction and how it affects relationships. This by no means means we are glorifying it, we are only exploring it. Their relationship will be complicated, but it's supposed to be. If you find yourself no longer interested in it that's perfectly fine. It won't hold back, it won't be pretty.

There will be lots of flashbacks in this fic. We debated for a long time on how to go about it, but I think we settled on a way. Flashbacks will be sprinkled throughout the fic and will always be separated with "~~~" before and after. There will also be the time period before so as to not confuse you. The past is very important to their relationship so it needs to be included. It won't be in every chapter, and some chapters will be purely flashbacks. We will use "///" to indicate transitions in a scene. The flashbacks for the most part will be in order.

We love this story, and hope you do too.

CW: Drug use, alcohol use, violence, fem reader, AFAB reader

W/C: 8,043

Banner credit: @benkeibear

~~~

-Summer before Senior year-

Warmth. 

He always did run hot. His lips meld to yours, whispers of cherry gracing your tastebuds. Rough hands you had long been accustomed to held your face, keeping you still and pliant just for him. Eren’s tongue slips free, gently dragging along your bottom lip. You felt as if you were floundering, desperately trying to keep up. He pulls away and you’re met with forest green staring back at you. 

“Was that any better?” He teases. 

~~~

-Current-

Eren Jaeger is a lot of things. 

Punctual is not one of them. 

It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last – but it was, however, the first time Eren had been late to a party he invited you to. You weren’t much for large gatherings, or gatherings of any size for that matter. You would’ve opted to stay home if Eren hadn’t practically begged you to come with him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” He had said. 

Yeah, right. It reeks of booze and frat boys only have one volume – screaming their heads off. 

You sigh and push off from the countertop, not wanting to wait around any longer. If Eren was going to come he would’ve shown by now. Thanks a lot, Eren. 

You make it one step before an arm snakes around your shoulders. 

“Hey.” 

The scent of cheap beer is replaced by warm, woody cologne, cut with the pungent smell of weed. It’s so distinctly Eren Jaeger. 

He squeezes your shoulder in a half-hug. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

“Soon? I’ve been here for 30 minutes,” you grumble. 

Eren releases you from his hold and repositions himself in front of you, blocking you from the kitchen door. He’s dressed in all black, a worn brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Tucked behind his ear is a neatly rolled joint. It was a signature look for him. 

“Work ran late. Besides, I had a few deliveries to make.” 

“Deliveries? What, does the shop not pay you enough?” You tease. 

Eren’s mouth quirks in a smile as he pokes back, “I thought my best friend was supposed to support my passions. I’m a small business owner.” 

You roll your eyes, moving to pass Eren and finally be released from this hellhole, but his hand grips your wrist to pull you back. His touch is warm, grounding. 

“Heyheyhey, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Home? I’ve had enough of this place.” 

“But I just got here! Come on, just one drink and we can head out.” 

“Fine.” 

You allow Eren to drag you back into the kitchen and lean against the countertop for support, watching with your arms crossed over your chest while Eren fills a red plastic cup with a little bit of everything spread out before you. Vodka, wine cooler, some kind of fruit juice. 

“Gross, Eren!”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” 

He takes a swig from your cup before handing it to you (“making sure it’s safe”, he says) and you accept, brow raised in suspicion before following suit and taking a sip. Besides the initial bite from the vodka, it’s really not that bad. It just tastes like juice – albeit a dangerously intoxicating one that’ll have you regretting tonight even more in the morning. Eren always takes his drinks like this, opting to get loosened up faster and not really giving a shit about the contents. 

Against your better judgment, you take another sip.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” 

“See? I’ve never steered you wrong. Ever. Not even once.” 

You snort into your cup and Eren raises his brows, feigning offense. 

“I haven’t! Name one time.” 

“The time Mrs. Steven busted us trying to buy beer with your shitty fake ID.” 

“That wasn’t that bad.” 

“My mom grounded me for a month!”

“We wouldn’t have seen each other if I didn’t have the best climbing skills in town.” 

You both laugh and shake your head, watching the party ahead of you with a smile on your face while Eren watches you with a smile on his. 

“Okay koala man.” 

“Koala man?”

“They’re good at climbing, right?” 

Eren’s drink helps ease your nerves, along with your burning need to leave this party. You might even say you’re starting to have fun now that Eren’s here. He tends to do that – make anything feel fun and lighthearted. He doesn’t take things as seriously as you do. This used to make you skeptical when you first met Eren in high school. He seemed like a bad influence, if not just a nuisance, but you had to admit he really was a good guy. He’s still a little shit though. 

“So, who do you even know here? I thought all your friends were in Paradise City.” 

“This is Reiner’s house. You’ve met him, right?” 

Reiner, Reiner, Reiner… You mull it over. Eren has a lot of “friends”, so it’s hard to remember all of them by name. He’s always been so charismatic. 

“Blond? Muscles?”

“Bingo.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s nice.”

You throw his name around several times in your head. You hadn’t had many interactions with Reiner, but everytime you did speak with him he seemed nice. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what he and Eren had in common. Reiner was a jock through and through - even played for the football team. Eren on the other hand… Well, he was Eren. Your Eren nonetheless.

Your lips press against the plastic cup as you take another sip of Eren’s concoction, feeling a buzz start to come on already. Your senses feel dull as your eyelids slowly get heavier and heavier.

“Hitting you harder than I thought it would, damn you’re a lightweight.” Eren chuckles, tossing back his drink like it was nothing.

You click your tongue at him and roll your eyes. Maybe he had a point. It wasn’t your fault. Not everyone drank and partied it up in highschool like he did. You dread the day a doctor gets a look at his liver - or even worse, his lungs.

“Finish your drink then we can head out if you still want?” He offers, tossing his cup in the overflowing bin beside you.

You nod and swish your drink around in front of you, there was still half the cup left. Eren lets out a chuckle.

Eren hops off the counter. “I’m gonna go light up, you coming with?”

“I think I’m good.” 

He plucks the joint from behind his ear and heads towards the patio. “Suit yourself. At least try to make some friends while I’m gone. The thought of you being all depressed without me is gonna ruin my high.” 

“Yeah, bye, Eren,” you wave him off, a smile spreading across your face. 

You notice your body feels much more relaxed now than it did initially. Eren has a funny way of doing that to you. Most of the time, you’re polar opposites – you being high strung while Eren hardly took anything serious. You balance each other out. 

A light buzz reaches your head, heat creeping up your neck and ears. Eren really knew how to make an effective drink. Even the music sounds better, no longer blaring and rattling the house but mellowing into the background with a low rhythm and bass you could feel thumping in your chest.

~~~

-Fall of Sophomore year- 

“Everyone, we have a new student joining our class. Go ahead and introduce yourself, sweetheart.” 

“Eren Jaeger,” the new kid speaks, expression and tone heavy with boredom. His hair is brown and slightly overgrown, sitting just under his ears. “I transferred from Maria Reformatory. Go Titans.” 

Finally, something different. 

“Nice to have you, Eren!” The teacher welcomes. 

His eyes meet yours. They’re beautiful – a vibrant shade of emerald green you’ve never seen before. Only on movie stars, or models, same thing. You straighten in your seat, feeling perceived. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” One of the girls blurts out, causing the class to erupt in laughter.

You return your attention to the assignment in front of you, silently groaning. The teacher attempts to quell the chaos while directing Eren down the aisle, towards the empty seat conveniently located beside you. 

You intentionally picked this seat because you wanted to be away from everyone else. 

“Hey,” Eren introduces himself, tossing his backpack under his desk and digging for a pencil in the front pouch. “What’s your name?” 

You grumble your name, eyes not leaving the worksheet. 

“I’m Eren.” 

“Yeah, I heard the introduction.” 

“Wow. Okay, attitude.” 

Eren slouches in his seat, his too-long legs extending beyond his desk, like a newborn giraffe. 

Focusing is hard when you feel his eyes bore holes into your side, analyzing you. It felt like a bug crawling up your neck, almost making you shiver at the weight of his gaze. You opt to ignore him, do what you’ve always done and keep your head down. You don’t need friends, they’re disruptive. Not like anyone here gets you anyways. 

Eren, however, had no intention of leaving you alone. 

“How do you like the school?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before.”

“You can’t tell if you like it or not?” 

“I’m trying to focus,” you admit, slightly exasperated. 

“Didn’t know there was a rush.” 

Eren turns forward, brows raised in amusement. You were quick to bite and maybe not the most friendly, but it only piqued his curiosity. 

You watch Eren adjust in your peripheral vision, like he’s just now realizing there’s nothing on his desk. Your finger taps anxiously on your own table. 

“Hey teacher, I don’t have one of those,” Eren points out, referring to your textbook. 

“You’ll get one soon,” the teacher interjects. Don’t say it, please don’t say it… 

Your heart sinks when she says your name. 

“You don’t mind sharing, right?” 

Your finger stills. 

“No, ma’am.” 

Eren smirks and scoots his desk closer to yours, metal legs scraping against the floor until the edges touch. The scent of Old Spice body spray wafts over into your space, with something skunky underneath that explains his red and lazy eyes. 

“This works out great!” Your teacher exclaims, eyes meeting yours. “Now that Eren has joined us, you’ll have a partner for the semester project!” 

The words on the book in front of you sear into your brain. Fuck.

You don’t need to look at Eren to see the expression on his face. Well, at least he was enjoying this. 

“Eren, you’re in luck. Your partner is the head of the class, I’m sure she’ll take great care of you.”

“Is that so?” Eren grins, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Are you gonna take care of me, partner?” 

Normally, praise for your academic achievements feels great. The circumstances were different in this case. You were certain Eren was going to slack off, let you do all the work and stamp his name on the finished result and take your credit.

You’d prefer that, anyways. Keep your head down. Do your best work. Just get through it.

///

You’re on your way out when a familiar voice calls out your name. 

“Hey! Wait up!” 

Naturally, you speed up. 

Eren matches your pace, walking beside you towards the front gate on campus. 

“Jeez, for someone kinda short, you walk fast.” 

You sigh in defeat. “Why are you following me?” 

“Well, we have that end of semester project, right? When should we go over it?” 

“It’s fine, Eren. I can do it and you can sign your name when I’m done. That’s what I was planning on, anyway.”

The brunet grabs your wrist, bringing you to a stop. Heat floods your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears. Who was he to just grab you like that? You turn around, ready to give him an earful, but the expression on his face makes you pause. It wasn’t anger, but something closer to determination. 

“I’m not gonna make you do it alone. What kinda guy do you take me for? Let’s just exchange contact info and we can plan something.” 

You wanted to argue back but you couldn’t find the words. Being around Eren steals the words right from you. 

“Fine,” you grumble, fishing around in your bag for something to write your number on – a convenience store receipt – and a pen to write it with. You print your number on the back and hand it to Eren, who studies the receipt curiously. 

He laughs from his chest. “Damn, how many bags of gummy worms do you need?”  

You groan.

“None of your business.” 

“I’m much more of a gummy bear fan myself. It’s a texture thing, and I like that they’re bite size.”

“Good for you.” 

Eren smiles and stuffs the receipt into his pocket, finally releasing his grasp on your arm and starting on past you. “We’ll be in touch, partner!” 

////

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Hey, it’s Eren Jaeger. 

You tap out a quick answer. 

You: When do you wanna talk about the project? 

Inviting Eren home wasn’t the best idea. Your parents were strict, and besides, you just met the guy. You weren’t exactly ready to invite him into your home, and who knew what would await you at his? Maybe you could set up at a park somewhere. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: You hungry? I’m feeling like a burger.  

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Sent location.

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s not too far. Meet here?

You: That works. 

You remind yourself to text your parents about your plans. It shouldn’t be a problem seeing as it’s for school. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s a date.

You: It’s a study session. 

The walk wasn’t inconvenient – skip your usual turn, walk another block north, apologize a dozen times to the cars you weave through in the parking lot. When you arrive, you notice Eren already seated with a tray of food in front of him, a fry dangling from his mouth and gaze fixed on his lap. 

You help yourself into the booth across from him.

“You got here fast.” 

His lips twitch up in a smirk as he chows down on the fry. 

“Or you got here slow, shortstack.” 

“Let’s not make that a thing.” 

Eren gestures towards his food, silently offering it to you, but you shake your head. 

“So what do you want to do the project on?” He asks through a mouthful of fried potato mush. 

“Well I was planning on making a heart monitor. They’re pretty easy to make if you just do a cheap one. Then I was going to write a report alongside it explaining what it is and how it works.” You explain, feeling your shoulders begin to relax. 

You had already gotten started on the project so you were praying he wouldn’t want to pick something else. He listens intently while you explain to him how exactly it worked and what was needed still. 

“Sounds cool.” 

Eren picks off the rest of his food while you walk through the project together, pulling your notes from your backpack and explaining everything you had done so far, including a diagram you were rather proud of. 

Conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. You don’t realize your pen is missing until you notice Eren absentmindedly doodling on an unused napkin. 

“What school did you go to?” 

“Okay, Miss ‘I heard the introduction’,” Eren teases. “Uh, Maria Reformatory.” 

Your brow quirks. His expression remains concentrated on his masterpiece, bangs falling in front of his eyes while he gnaws at the straw in his empty drink. 

“Reformatory? What did you do?”

Green eyes flick up to yours momentarily before looking back down. For a moment, you kick yourself. Maybe it’s a touchy subject, don’t be nosy. 

Eren doesn’t seem bothered. 

“I wasn’t a good student. It’s nothing much, just got into fights, drank and smoked. Teenager stuff, you know how it is.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t, actually.” 

Eren laughs through his nose. “Besides, my grades were already shit. Those things were just the final straw.”

You wet your bottom lip, fingers idly tapping on the table. 

Eren took slight notice. He stops drawing and slides the napkin away from him. His expression remained neutral as he leaned back in his chair to fully face you. 

“Fights? Like, physical fights?” 

Eren laughs dryly. 

“Does that scare you?” 

You pick something that looks close to pride on his face. For being sent to a reformatory, it sure doesn’t seem like he learned much. 

“My best friend used to get picked on a lot. He’s kinda like you, actually. Short, bookish type. Anyway, it really pissed me off. I’m not the kind of guy that can just stand there while someone treats my friends like shit.” 

“So you stopped drinking and smoking?” You ask. 

Eren shifts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Just learned how to hide it better.” 

He really didn’t learn anything. You heave out an exasperated sigh, but keep pressing. 

“What are you doing here then?” 

“My mom wanted a fresh start for me, figured moving might help.”

You hum quietly in understanding. 

You chat idly for another half hour before your phone buzzes under your thigh. 

Incoming call from: Mom. 

Your heart sinks as it dawns on you – you forgot to text your parents. 

“Ah,” you start nervously. “I’ve gotta get home.” 

“Want me to walk you?” Eren asks casually.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“You sure? It’s getting dark out, what if some creep tries to grab you?” 

Against your better judgment, you give in. 

While the two of you gather your things, your eye catches on the napkin he was drawing on. It didn’t look half bad. It was a flower with designs around it, the art oddly calming after hearing his tales from his old school. You grab the napkin when he isn’t looking, sliding it into your backpack. As you pack up, an odd feeling curls up in your stomach. Would he notice you took the drawing? Would he care? As you make your way to the exit, Eren holds the door on your way out. 

////

You stop a block down from your house. Even from afar, you can see the light on in the entryway, and your parents’ cars in the driveway. Eren is rambling about some cartoon series when you interrupt him.

“Here is fine,” you murmur, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m just down the street.”

Eren raises a brow suspiciously. You answer before he can ask. 

“I’m already in trouble for being late. If my parents see me with a boy, they’re gonna flip.” 

“Alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

////

You did not see Eren tomorrow. Or the day after. 

Everything was radio silent. 

The prospect of having to deal with a new kid made you nervous at first, but you felt more at ease after getting to know him better. It was sort of ironic, in a way. You learned that Eren was a bad kid who liked to smoke and drink. Why did that make you feel more comfortable? If anything it should stress you out even more. He’s a bad influence. Maybe it was because he was being honest. Honesty is hard to come by nowadays. 

It looked like you would end up having to do the project on your own after all. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you were planning on doing this alone anyways… So why did you feel let down? 

////

The project is due tomorrow.

You’re hunched at your desk in your room, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. The heart monitor was more or less put together, and the written report just had a couple hundred words left before it was ready to submit. 

You knew you could do it by yourself, but it still would’ve been nice to have help. 

You open your files, ready to hammer out the final details.

“Wait, where is it?” You hum to yourself, scrolling a little too far in your files for your comfort. 

You try typing in the file name, only for your screen to taunt you back: no files found. 

You could have sworn you saved it under that. 

Your fingers shake from anxiety. Frantically, you type variations, thinking you might have saved it under something else. It’s no use.

“You have to be joking. Where is it?” 

At first it was mere nervousness, but now you’re in a full blown panic. 

“No, no, no!” You chant to yourself. 

Weeks of work, all down the drain. Did you save something on top of it? If that was the case, it was lost forever. 

Hopelessness washes over you. What were you gonna do? 

You’re about to accept your impending doom, no doubt get a failing grade on the assignment and lose your spot at the top of your class when you hear something clatter against your window. 

Your gaze snaps to the window, confused, until you watch something hit your window again. 

A twig? What the fuck? 

You approach the window and slide it open, about to stick your head out when another twig narrowly misses your face. 

“Shit, my bad!” Eren calls out, voice a little too loud for your liking. 

“Eren?”

There’s no fucking way. 

You look behind you, expecting your parents to open your door at any minute but they don’t. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“The project is due tomorrow, I came by to help.” 

You watch in awe as Eren heaves himself up, scaling the trellis alongside your house until he reaches your bedroom window, his face inches from yours. Light work for him. No reaction. 

“What is wrong with you?” You yell in a hushed tone, hoping the rustling foliage and thump of his feet against the house didn’t wake your parents. 

Eren grins. 

“A lot of things, I thought you already knew that.”

Wordlessly, you step out of the way so Eren could help himself in your room. 

If you weren’t so pissed you would have been impressed. Your room was on the second floor, and he’s barely breaking a sweat. 

Eren looks around your room, noticing the aforementioned heart monitor sitting on your bedroom floor and an open laptop on your desk, alongside a ripped-open pack of gummy worms. 

“So, what’s left to do?” 

“You really think I would leave things left to be done until the night before it’s due?” 

His brow raises. “Uh, maybe?”

You sigh and cross your arms, eyes dropping to your feet. 

“It was almost done, but I lost the report. It needs to be rewritten completely.” 

“Okay great, I’ll do that and you finish whatever it was you were doing here.” He carefully steps over the monitor and settles in your chair. 

“You can’t just write a whole report in one night.” 

Eren meets your gaze, grinning. “I like a challenge. Sit back and watch, shortstack.” 

He starts typing at a quick pace. 

////

You pause your work on the monitor and look up at Eren. His eyes glide over his work, his chin propped in his hand. His other hand helps itself to your gummy worms – a small price to pay for his help. 

“What happened to you anyway? You totally disappeared on me, it kinda sucked.” 

“Got grounded.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“Left some weed in my pocket. My mom went to do some laundry and it made a huge fucking mess in the washer, so I lost my phone.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle and he turned from the screen to look at you. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.” 

“I thought you said you were better at hiding it?” 

Eren grins. You can’t help but mirror him. 

Sure he was annoying, but you liked his company whether you would admit it or not. 

////

You didn’t know you fell asleep until your morning alarm woke you up. 

You must have taken yourself to bed at some point in the night. Forcing your bleary eyes open, you notice Eren’s figure hunched over your desk, still snoozing. 

Bangs hit against your door and you nearly jump from your skin. 

“Honey? You’re still asleep?” 

You throw a stuffed animal at Eren’s head, waking him up with a snort. 

“I-I’m awake!” You call back. 

You sigh in relief that your door was locked. If your parents came in and saw a boy sleeping in your room, you were gonna be in a whole world of trouble, way worse than a failing grade on an assignment. 

“Okay! I heard you snoring. Maybe you’re getting sick. Breakfast will be downstairs.” 

Your mom’s voice trailed away as you hear her descend the stairs again. 

Eren’s awake by now, rubbing his tired eyes with a yawn. “I want breakfast.” 

“You fell asleep in here?” 

“So did you.”

“It’s my room!” 

Eren shrugs and checks his phone, the battery almost drained. “Shit, it’s almost seven. I don’t have time to go back home. Guess I’ll go straight to school.”

He rises to his feet and stretches, reminding you of a cat. “Want me to wait outside for you?” 

“No, I’ll see you in class. Try not to lose the report.” 

Eren reaches for the handle of your bedroom door. You smack his hand and look up at him incredulously. 

“Take the window!” 

////

It was almost kind of funny. You’ve spent these last few weeks so nervous about the presentation, but when the time finally came, you felt relaxed. Maybe it was Eren’s influence encouraging you to take a breath for once. 

Eren takes the lead, reading the report aloud while you attach the nodes of your handmade monitor for the demonstration. Once he was finished, you turn it on, the monitor instantly coming to life, projecting Eren’s steady heartbeat. You lean forward to reposition one of the nodes, not wanting it to slip. You don’t realize how close you are until Eren’s breath hits your face. He’s looking directly at you. 

“It works.” He says matter of factly.

“You didn’t have faith in me?” 

“Of course I did.” 

Of all the times you’ve seen Eren smile, you’ve never seen one quite like this. It felt softer, genuine. The kind of smile you can’t help but mirror back until the pace of Eren’s heart rate accelerates, filling the room with a racing thump thump thump.  

Your teacher claps, signaling the end of your presentation. 

You end up with an A on the project, not unfamiliar for you, but it felt more rewarding this time around. 

////

Eren meets you outside your last class. Immediately, you notice he’s holding something behind his back. Something he’s trying to keep secret as he pivots slightly when you approach him, wanting to obscure this surprise even more. 

“Hey, Eren,” you greet, mildly suspicious. 

“How was your day?” 

“I’m so ready to go home.” 

There’s a crinkle as he extends his arm, offering a familiar brightly colored bag to you. 

Sour gummy worms. 

“These are for you, by the way.” 

You snatch the bag of candy, inspecting it closely. “For me?” 

Eren cocks his brow. “You think I’m trying to poison you?” 

“Or drug me,” you tease, though your tone is dry. “Don’t they make candy edibles like these?” 

Eren laughs, a throaty chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest, and tilts his head in amusement. 

You really, really like Eren’s laugh.  

“I’m not giving you edibles. Shit’s expensive. I just remembered you like those, and you worked really hard on the project, so. You deserve it.” 

You stuff the bag in your backpack, finally deeming them safe. 

“I’m surprised you remembered I like them.” 

“Obviously.” 

Eren walked you home, babbling on about his day, about cartoons, sometimes picking on you. You found it a little annoying, constantly having this guy follow you around, but his presence became a comfort to you. You thought you’d be done with him once the project was over, but you quickly learned Eren had no intention of backing off. He wanted to walk you home. 

Guys usually weren’t nice to you. Unless this was all a ploy, which was possible. Maybe he just wanted to make you look stupid. Time will tell. 

As you sat in bed that night, you looked at the crumpled bag of candy, and something akin to gratitude bloomed in your chest. You tear open the packet, picking a blue and red worm first and popping it into your mouth. 

How odd, you think. 

Whatever. 

You ate the candy that night, and you could’ve sworn that it somehow tasted sweeter than usual.

~~~

-Current- 

“Hey there.” 

You open your eyes to find a man who is definitely not Eren standing in front of you. 

He runs a hand through his bleach blond hair and flashes you a mischievous look in his dark brown eyes. The kind that makes you clutch your drink closer to your chest. The buzz in your body becomes a shiver as you shift uncomfortably.   

“Hey,” your tone is curt, borderline uninviting. Eren said to make friends, but you were certain this stranger didn’t come to you just for a conversation. 

“What’s a cute thing like you doing all alone?” 

“I’m not alone, I’m actually–”

“So your friends just left you here?” He takes a step closer to you, backing you against the counter and grabbing the cup from your hand, ditching it on the counter. “Come hang out with me instead.” 

“I’m good actually, I think I’m just gonna stay here.” You put on a brave front, begging your voice not to betray you. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time.” He grabs your now unoccupied hand and leans in closer, close enough that the acrid scent of beer, cigarettes and sweat fills your senses with his every exhale and you tilt your head away to escape the smell. 

“Hey man, she said she’s good.” 

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Eren’s voice. You look at him with wide eyes, silently asking for help.

The blond bares his teeth in a sardonic smile.

“Who’s this? Your guard dog?”

Eren’s brow twitches. It’s one of his tells, a sign that his patience is wearing thin. You know better than to provoke Eren with the temper he has. It almost makes you feel sorry for the blond if he wasn’t actively harassing you. 

“Yeah and I bite, now back the fuck off.” 

His sweaty hand tightens on yours. 

“I’m good, man.” 

“I said get the fuck off.”

Eren charges forward and shoves the man away from you by his shoulders. He stands between you like an impenetrable wall, towering over the man who fucked around with Eren Jaeger’s temper and was about to find out. 

The man staggers back, hitting the opposite countertop. He brushes off his wounded pride with a scoff. 

“Lay off dude, I’m just trying to get laid like everyone else here. You can have her, she’s a fucking prude anyways.” 

You could choke on the tension building in the air. Eren is seething. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said I’m just trying to get my dick wet but this stuck up bitch isn’t cooperating.” 

The insult might’ve stung if you weren’t so terrified of what was going to happen next. Eren’s gaze lowers, eyes intense like he’s contemplating something while fidgeting idly with the thick metal band on his middle finger. Like he’s making a choice. 

“Is that so?” 

You feel a chill run down your spine at the poison laced in Eren’s voice. 

“Yeah, have her to yourself. That is if you can get her to spread her legs for you-“ 

Eren made his choice. His fist connects with the blond’s cheek, skin splitting under his ring, making him stagger and clutch his face. It takes only a second for his expression to shift from shock to pure rage.

Not even a second after you get out of the way, the stranger charges forward and throws Eren onto the counter by the front of his shirt. His fist slams into Eren’s nose with an audible crunch.

Eren’s knee shoots up, nailing his opponent in the balls hard enough to make even you grimace. Low blow. The man swears loud, doubling over in pain, and Eren takes advantage by uppercutting the blonde in the eye. 

The quarrel gathers a small group of people into the kitchen, their murmurs drowning out the House music blasting in the other room. 

The man lands a hit on Eren’s brow, splitting the skin, bright red blood immediately gushing towards Eren’s eye. 

“Porco!” 

You hear another man shout from behind you. 

The man you now recognize as Porco turns around towards the voice. Eren pushes up, but Porco is too slow to react. Fists continue to fly while Reiner pushes his way through the crowd, nudging you out of the way to separate the two.  

“Galliard! Jaeger! Step off!” Reiner’s voice bellows. He grabs Porco by the scruff, like a kitten, yanking him backwards. 

“He’s fucking crazy!” Porco spits out, his face battered and bruised in mere seconds. 

Eren’s eyes still narrow in on Porco. 

“Ren, come on.” You murmur, grabbing onto his arm. 

At first, Eren doesn’t budge under your hands. It takes a couple of tries before he allows you to drag him out, eyes never once leaving Porco. You don’t let go of his arm until you’ve exited the house, when your feet finally make contact with the sidewalk, finally trusting that he won’t go running back. 

“What the fuck was that Eren?” 

His silence had never been so loud. His body heaves with every breath, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

“You can’t just beat people up!” 

“He was being a fucking dick!” 

You start down the sidewalk, choosing to ditch your car for the night. The last thing you need is to be pulled over for intoxicated driving, no matter how sober you felt after that altercation. Your hand remains tight around Eren’s. The neighborhood looks different at night but you piece together your location. The campus convenience store is nearby – you’ve been there countless times before with Eren, whether to get a quick lunch or to load up on snacks before horror movie screenings at the local theater. You could probably walk the aisles blindfolded. 

Eren’s forced to wait outside as you didn’t want to scare the shop owner, or track blood all over his tile floors. Antibiotic cream, bandaids, and a pack of frozen peas. You can make do with this. 

You leave the bodega, fishing through the plastic bag slung over your arm.

“Here,” you toss the pack of frozen peas over your shoulder for Eren to catch. “Put these on your nose, the cold will help with the swelling in the meantime. I’ll clean you up when I can find a good place to sit.” 

Eren obliges, trailing behind you, pouting like a scolded child. 

Just around the corner is a residential park, one you had spent countless hours in despite neither of you actually living in that neighborhood. It’s empty at this time of night, and a quiet spot to sit down was ideal. 

You force Eren to sit on a swing, standing between his splayed legs. Like a baby giraffe, you think. He trains his eyes up at you while you get to work, still holding the frozen peas against his nose. 

You uncap the antibiotic ointment and tend to the wound on his brow. It looks like it stings, you try your best to not wince at the thought, but Eren’s face remains unchanging. Just staring up at you with emerald eyes, looking almost a little reflective. You’re sure he’s still thinking about the fight, replaying it in his head like a highlight reel of Eren Jaeger’s best hits. 

Silence settles between you. There were so many words you wanted to say, but you had no idea where to start. 

Sighing, you settle on: “Why’d you do it?” 

Eren’s answer is unsatisfyingly simple. “He was being a dick to you.” 

“I could’ve handled it myself.” 

“Yeah,” Eren scoffs, tone laced with sarcasm. “You seemed to be doing a great job at that.” 

You bite your tongue and rip a bandage out of its paper to cover up the wound, then observe your handiwork. 

It’s late. You’re tired, the buzz has long since worn off. Wordlessly, you slump into the adjacent swing. 

“Touché.” 

Eren’s demeanor shifts into one more casual, his anger fizzled out. 

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself?” 

“Maybe I don’t wanna make a scene. It’s not a big deal anyways, it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.” 

You feel your stomach tighten. Ever since the day you met Eren, he was always so understanding of you. He looked out for you. 

You sigh, idly tracing marks in the sand with your foot. You had been to this same park countless times before, making these same shapes in the sand, but tonight felt different. 

“Why do you care so much?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

From the corner of your eye you see Eren’s long legs stretch forward in front of him. He produces a carton of pre-rolled cigarettes from his pocket and slots one between his lips. His thumb strikes the wheel of his lighter once, twice, before producing a flame that illuminates his face. You watch silently as he lights the end of his joint, exhaling that first cloud of smoke into the night air.  

“You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 

Your heart clenches in your chest. It wasn’t like you were unaware that you were his best friend, but Eren wasn’t the most sentimental person. He wasn’t one for vocalizing his thoughts, or being mushy about his feelings. You knew this about him, so his sincerity always struck you. Every once in a while he would say something that caught you by surprise, making your breath seize in your lungs. 

Eren was a lot of things – brash, impulsive, and annoying – but he also cared about you like nobody else. 

The pungent, earthy smell quickly hits your nose. When you first started hanging out with Eren, you couldn’t stand the smell. Your nose would pinch up in disgust while you watched him get high, but now the scent became familiar to you. It was something comforting, like late nights in the summer when you had no agenda. Like walks to the nearby store to stock up on candy, or deep conversations underscored by low music. 

It reminded you of Eren. 

It reminded you of home. 

“Wow,” you glance at Eren, lips cracking a smile. Your hands hold the swing chains tight, the cold metal biting into your palms. 

“What?” 

“Never would have pegged you for such a sentimentalist, Eren.” 

“You don’t peg me at all.” He responds. 

You try to hold back a smile but it shows through. No matter what, you’re determined to continue poking fun at him. 

“Who knew you had such a bleeding heart.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, a smile threatening to break around the joint. He plucks it from his mouth for a breath of fresh air instead, the silver of his rings glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, shut up.” 

“I’m serious. Did you pull that from a movie? Maybe overhear someone else say it?” You keep poking lightheartedly. 

“You’re the one who asked. Plus, you know you love me.” 

At this point you break eye contact, settling on the moon instead. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

You meant it too. 

You weren’t sure when Eren started to matter so much to you. At first he was unbearable – a delinquent who’s favorite pastime was pestering you – but slowly, he turned into a face you expected to see at every turn. Not having his presence felt unsettling, and you found yourself dreading classes without him. 

Eren extends the hand holding the joint. He still offers, knowing you always decline. 

“Want some?”

“No thanks.” 

“Okay. Just thought I’d ask. What with me being a sentimentalist and all.” 

The two of you laugh softly. It always felt like this with Eren. Easy. You had your habits and he had his, just like anyone else, but your friendship felt just as easy as breathing. It was hard to imagine what your life was like before him. 

Eren ditches his finished joint into the sand, squashing it down under his shoe.

“Wanna go somewhere else? I feel bad inviting you to that lame ass party. I think the lanes are still open, or the arcade.” 

The thought was tempting. You did love going to the arcade. It may not seem like much to anyone else, but it felt special to you. Good music, timeless classics, and an owner that hooked you up with extra tokens as a thank you for keeping the business alive. Not far from that was the bowling alley. Neither of you were good at bowling, if anything, you’ve probably watched Eren accidentally throw himself down the lane more than the actual ball. 

As nice as hanging out longer sounded, a feeling of responsibility gnaws inside you. 

“I shouldn’t,” you sigh. “I have a test coming up.” 

“A test on a Friday night?” Eren questions.  

“No, it’s in a couple days. I know you don’t know this but there’s a thing called studying that people sometimes do when they care about academics.” 

“Studying?” Eren plays along with your bit, sounding out the word like it’s unfamiliar to him. “I don’t know, I think my method works just fine.” 

“Just winging it? Yeah, right. It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far, Eren Jaeger.”

Eren is the first to stand up.

“Always so cruel to me.” He fakes a somber face.

“Sure I am,” you stand as well, smoothing out your clothes. “Walk me back?” 

///

The walk back is pleasant, though the cold is biting. There weren’t many students on campus around this time, with winter break quickly approaching. Anyone who wasn’t already home for the holidays was either tucked away in their dorms, or out partying. As for you, ending the semester meant drowning in a sea of tests. You were looking forward to a break. 

Eren walks beside you, hands in his pockets. He didn’t live on campus, so you appreciate him walking with you. Eren had a small apartment a couple blocks away, a graduation gift from his parents who were amazed he made it out of high school. It was a comfortable place for you to hang out, seeing as your dorm wasn’t exactly fit for hosting.

It wasn’t that your dorm was inhospitable to say, however it wasn’t exactly the marriott either. Eren referred to it as the pig sty, but you thought he was exaggerating when he said that. Sure you would occasionally leave some clothes here and some trash there, but it was under control. In your opinion at least. You didn’t have time to keep things spotless. You were running yourself thin between school, work, and Eren. He could be considered a full time job all by himself. 

Eren’s house was nicer anyway. The furniture was simplistic and things were never left out. It seemed like the opposite of what you would expect for someone like him. You had two theories on why things were spotless at his bachelor pad. One, his doting mother Carla raised him to be tidy. His house was never messy growing up so he got used to it. Two, Eren constantly had… how do you say, lady friends over frequently. Couldn’t get laid if your house was a mess. Either way, his place was nice and yours was not.

Your strides slow as you approach the dorm building, pulling your key card from your wallet and tapping it on the lock, hearing it whirr and click, the light flashing green. You reach for the handle but Eren beats you to it, holding the door open for you. The warm air flows from inside the building, fanning across your cold face, the sensation prickling your skin. 

“I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to stand you up, that was a dick move of me.” 

“Psh, it’s okay,” you shrug. “All things considered, I’d say I had a fun night.” 

You hear a ding further down the hallway where the elevator stood. Metal doors open to reveal two girls about your age chatting inside. Their eyes lock with Eren’s, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. 

The girls pass by as you enter the building, whispering and giggling to each other when they catch sight of Eren. He flashes a grin and flicks his eyes up and down as they leave before returning his attention back to you. It’s nothing new. You weren’t blind, even you could admit Eren was good looking – and you weren’t stupid either. Eren’s love life is a never-ending story. A long list of girlfriends, and an even longer list of hookups. You had long gotten used to the shameless flirting. 

You and Eren make your way to the elevator. Your finger presses into the button, a comfortable silence falling over you as you wait. 

The elevator dings. Your feet only need to move so far before you find yourself at the familiar front door, decorated in construction paper cut-outs with your name written in sharpie. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” Eren asks. “I work from 10 to 2.” 

Eren works at a small smoke shop by campus. All of the other employees were students as well, and most of the customers were also students with drooping eyes. You weren’t sure how it began, but you had a tradition of going to Eren’s work to drop him off lunch when he worked. You didn’t go every time he had a shift, but often enough.

“Of course, I’ll bring you lunch. Want anything special?” 

“Nah, surprise me.” 

You pull Eren into a hug, eyes fluttering shut as his scent fills your senses. Spices, smoke with a subtle bite. His arms squeeze around yours before withdrawing, sending you off with a pat on your back. 

“Okay! Get home safe. Try not to get into any more fights on the way home.” 

“No promises!” Eren calls from over his shoulder as he starts down the hallway. You click your tongue, watching as he enters the elevator and disappears behind the doors, smiling the entire time. 

The lock clicks behind you. Tiredness hits you all at once, feet dragging the short distance from your front door to your bed until you flop down in it, pulling your laptop off your nightstand and squinting at the bright screen. Sleep was calling your name, but you were already behind on studying and didn’t want to spend your winter break making up for a failed test. 

At least 15 minutes. Yeah, that won’t hurt. 

You stretch a couple of times, trying to force the exhaustion from your body. 

You make it as far as logging into the student portal before your phone lights up beside you, and you don’t even try to resist the distraction. It could only be one person at this time of night. 

Eren: What’s up? 

You: I don’t know, you texted me. 

Dots appear on your screen, then disappear. You can picture him now, walking down the sidewalk with one hand holding his phone, the other probably holding a lit cigarette. You can picture the smoke and warm breath puffing into the air as he laughs. 

Eren: Do you miss me horribly yet? 

You accept that studying is futile and shut your laptop, instead flopping over and letting your back hit the mattress. Laying down has never felt so good. 

You: Yes, I’m beside myself right now. 

Eren: I can always turn back around. The night is still young. 

You: No, my bed is calling my name. Goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: I was gonna make something to eat but I’m not sure what. 

You: I said goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: You’re no fun. 

The screen starts to blur as your eyes droop, body succumbing to exhaustion. Your arm goes limp, dropping onto your chest. You feel your phone buzz once more before falling asleep. 

Eren: Goodnight shortstacks. 

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[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy on Tumblr part 13

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoots reader

I'm back! This update is pretty dark tbh.

The next morning you dont talk about it. You because you're giving the guy you're probably gonna die with a little grace, Chilchuck probably because he would rather die. 

The day goes much like the last for the first half of the day. You and Chilchuck make steady progress in the direction you've both agreed is likely to get you out. It's a decision that's based solely on intuition and guess work. The traps kinda seem like they get more complicated working one direction, so probably the labyrinth doesn't want you to go that way. Maybe.

You've started subconsciously thinking of the labyrinth as something alive and you cant help but wonder if it's smart enough to pull a double bluff. Maybe you're marching to your deaths along the path of most resistance because the labyrinth thinks it's funny. 

Your musings are interrupted when Chilchuck abruptly stiffens and makes a "Hsst!" sound at you, whipping his head around. You freeze as well, looking around. You hear it too now that you're paying sttention, the soft padding of paws on stone up ahead. 

Chilchuck grabs your upper arm and roughly yanks you into the nearest room, quietly closing and locking the door behind you. 

It's the same as any of the other rooms you've been in. Barren of anything useful, just four stone walls. 

"You think that's what attacked us before we fell down here?" You ask softly. 

Chilchuck nods grimly. "Sounds like it. Or one of its kind." 

You both fall quiet, listening. 

You hear something walk down the hallway and pause in front of your door. You feel Chilchuck go rigid beside you and you both hold very still. You find yourself holding your breath.

Eventually you hear it moving on and you breathe out, relaxing slightly. Neither of you speak for a little bit. 

"You think it knows we're here?" You break the silence finally, still speaking quietly. 

"I think we have to assume it does now" Chilchuck responds, just as quietly. "We're going to have to be on the lookout for it from now on. If it catches us it's over."

You nod, no way you could fight the thing, even working together. "What do you think it is?" 

"No idea, I didn't exactly get a good look at it. Did you?'

You frown. "It had wings and a beak, I was too busy trying to keep you alive to notice anything else."

He shrugs. "Guess it doesn't really matter."

Eventually you both venture back out into the hallway. You have to keep moving, monster or no. 

You both stay deadly quiet as you work your way down the passages again. There are a couple times one of you hears something and you're forced to duck into one of the rooms and hide. It's exhausting constantly being on high alert, and you're ready to collapse by the time Chilchuck suggests stopping for the night. 

You both gather what wood you can from the torches outside. Maybe enough for a couple hours. 

You both sit against a wall staring into the flames. You feel dizzy and faint. Normally you could go longer without food but you hadn't fully recovered from rez sickness by the time you were separated from the party. This wasn't good. 

Chilchuck breaks the silence this time. "You look rough."

You glance up from where you've sunk down in a half stupor. "Fuck you." 

"I'm serious. I know you can't have been recovered fully from getting resurrected and you also took a lot of energy to heal me. How much longer can you keep going?" 

You glare at him, trying to quell the rising panic in your chest. "As long as I need to." 

Chilchuck snaps back. "There's no need for fucking bravado, I just need to know when you're going to collapse on me. I can tell just by looking at you you're not going to make it much longer." His voice gets a little softer. "Look I'm not gonna just leave you behind if that's what you're worried about. Even if you're too weak to help me with traps I'm gonna keep you with me as long as I can. I'm not just gonna abandon you."

You grit your teeth. "A day. Maybe. Maybe two if you take over the bulk of disarming." 

Chilchuck nods. He doesn't seem surprised. "Alright, I can work with that." 

There's another silence. 

"Do you know any offensive magic?"

You glance up, surprised. "No. Just healing magic. I'm not half bad at healing when I'm not fucked up concussed but I don't know anything else off the top of my head. Why?"

He shrugs. "Just not a bad idea to get an idea of your capabilities. You know, just in case." 

You nod grimly. "Yeah well we're shit out of luck. We didn't get around to anything beyond healing. We were going to start on offensive magic but, well, I died right as we were getting started." 

Chilchuck turns to look at you. "Who taught you magic anyway? Not many will teach halffoots and not many halffoots are stupid or desperate enough to learn." 

"My party mage." You reply. "He wasn't exactly a reputable mage and he didn't care what I was as long as he had some kind of backup in case he got badly injured. None of us were really thinking about the possibility of an afterwards, so we didn't care about consequences." 

"Why were you all so set on killing the mage anyway? Why were you so desperate?" Chilchuck asks slowly. 

You wriggle your way up into a more seated position, eyes still fixed dully ahead. "The deal still stands, you tell me even one personal thing about you and I'll think about telling you something. Professional distance works both ways."

"I have three daughters." He says, like it's a confession wrenched from him. "I was married, now I'm not, we went our separate ways." 

You turn your head to stare at him and he glances away. You wet your lips. "What are their names?" 

For a minute you think he's not going to answer and then he says "Meijack, Flertom, and Puckpattie." 

"Oh." You say, and go back to staring straight ahead. "I had a daughter. And a husband. I'm not married anymore either. After our daughter - well after, we just didn't make it. Went our separate ways too. It was better that way." 

Chilchuck is very quiet next to you as you continue. "So that's why. I don't care about any rewards. I just want to be a part of the party that takes down the bastard that caused all this. For - for her." 

You take a deep breath. "I don't know the others stories, I think they were similar. We didn't talk about it."

"Oh." He replies. And then neither of you speak anymore. There's no reason to. 

Eventually you pass out from exhaustion, curled up on the cold stone floor. 

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[littleskeletonprincessss]

Here, have this

------------------------------------------------------

"God, you're so annoying, y/n! You don't have any idea what you're fucking talking about!" Schlatt yelled, walking away from you and into the kitchen.

"Excuse me, Mr. I'm-too-busy-to-spend-even-a-second-with-my-girlfriend! It's not my fault you've taken on so much and stretched yourself so thin! You did this to yourself!"

It was the 5th night in a row where Schlatt had to call and tell you he 'had to work late' and 'sorry hon, rain check for dinner tonight'.

"Jesus Christ I am so tired of you nagging me all the time! You're always around, just leave me the fuck alone for once!"

"If that's how you feel then maybe we shouldn't even be together!"

"There's a bright idea. Nice to know you can have those every once in a while."

"Fuck you, Schlatt! We're done." You yelled, before grabbing your purse and walking out of his house.

Walking into your apartment, you let your purse drop to the floor and flopped onto your couch, leaning your head back, and letting out a loud sigh, releasing all the pent up anger you'd harbored on your angry drive home.

It unfortunately wasn't uncommon for you and Schlatt to get into arguments. They'd usually result in one of you storming out of the house, and either returning later that night to exchange apologies and end with rough, angy make up sex or returning the next day and deciding it'd be best for both of you if you took a break for a while.

This was the fourth time it'd happened, and you were tired of it. You loved Schlatt, you really did. But God was it exhausting to break up and get back together all the time. You knew that this wasn't what it was supposed to be like.

Deciding to call Schlatt in the morning you turned on your TV for the sole purpose of serving as background noise for you to numbly fall asleep to, preparing yourself for what would come in the morning.

-------

When you woke up, you briefly looked around your apartment before remembering the previous night's fight. You'd grown used to waking up in Schlatt's warm arms, his face buried in your neck from behind, so it was almost a strange feeling to be cold and alone.

Looking at the clock it read 10:30. Schlatt would probably be awake, most likely editing again. You pressed the call button on his contact half expecting him not to answer.

"Hey."

"I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. I can be there in 20."

"See you then."

You left only a few minutes later after running your fingers through your hair and brushing your teeth, making yourself look somewhat presentable, and almost subconsciously walked to the coffee shop down the street, a place that had quickly become of favorite of yours and Schlatt's.

Looking around and not seeing him yet you at a table by the door, watching it and gently scratching your arms as a distraction from the way you were feeling.

Schlatt walked in and after briefly meeting your eyes sat silently across from you. It was obvious how little either of you wanted to be there right now, and it looked like neither of you wanted to speak first.

"Schlatt, we can't keep doing this."

Taking a deep breath, Schlatt muttered a defeated "I know."

"I think we need to break up. For good this time."

He sat silent for a long pause, staring at the fingers he was tapping on table.

"Whatever." he finally said, quickly standing up and leaving the coffee shop without another word or glance your way.

You sat for a bit, letting what had happened sink in. That was it. Wiping away the trapped tears that were making your eyes burn and throat hurt you left as well, walking the opposite way that Schlatt had, to your apartment, heartbroken and alone.

----------

It'd been a week. There were no texts, no calls, nothing exchanged between either of you. Schlatt hadn't posted anything, which surprised you. He had been trying to be more consistent with it. You posted a memory on Instagram and he wasn't among the notifications of likes like he normally would be.

This was foreign. You and Schlatt had started as friends before you'd gotten together the first time. You'd never gone longer than a couple days without any sort of contact, and that was only because he'd had to go back home and had forgotten his phone charger.

Your kitchen counters were littered with pizza boxes, food wrappers, bottles, you hadn't been bothered to cook anything or clean anything up. You could stand for a shower, shown evident by the greasy knot on top of your head and the thin layer of grime that had settled on your skin. Snotty and tear soaked tissues blanketed your living room floor. You were sinking and there was no one that could pull you up.

"I'm so pathetic" you whispered to yourself, looking at your smelly clothes and dirty surroundings. "I can't just sit here anymore." you resolved, standing up before moving to the bathroom to shower and start putting your life back in order.

------------

A few hours later you were tying the last garbage bag, your apartment, and you, looking leagues better than they had earlier..

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from cleaning. You hadn't ordered anything and your neighbors weren't usually the kind to stop by for anything.

Opening the door you were surprised by what you saw.

"Schlatt?"

There he stood, nearly filling your door frame with his large frame. He was unshaven, and his outfit looked about how yours had this morning, wrinkly and disheveled. But what surprised you was that he was crying. In all the time you'd known him, as a friend or a boyfriend, you'd never seen Schlatt cry.

But here he was, on your door step, big brown eyes watery with unshed tears, his nose running and red.

"Y/n" he choked out, voice rough from a combination of unuse and sobs.

Before you could say or do anything, Schlatt reached out and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

"I'm so so sorry for how I was treating you recently. You were right, I'd been spending too much time away from you. But I'm gonna get better." He blubbered.

"Schlatt--" you started, before he cut you off.

"I am. I'm going to be so much better for you. I know I don't deserve you, Y/n, I know you deserve someone who's so much better than me, but I'm gonna be better for you. I love you so much, angel. I know, we've had our issues, and i've said things in the past, but none of it is true. You're it. You're it for me. I need you in my life, Y/n. This last week has been hell without you. God I can't even begin to explain how I felt in the coffee shop when you said we were done for good. My whole world came tumbling down. It hurt so, so much. And I know it hurt you too and i'm sorry that I pushed you to do that. Please, give me one more chance. Please."

He looked into your eyes after that speech, trying to find your response before you said it.

Letting out a small sigh you pulled him down into another hug, clearing your throat from the new wash of tears that came over you.

"I love you, Schlatt."

You could feel Schlatt let out a breath you knew he'd been holding before he held you even tighter than before, if it was possible.

"I love you. So much."

[sensitivehandsomeactionman]

Rewatched 1x02 Wendigo

It's an easy-to-follow adventure, and as the second episode, has a feeling of confirming story style and motifs. They repeat the use of fake IDs. There's a cheeky wink to the audience about how implausible they are when they're imposters along with reassurance that as the heroes they have plot armor. The ep revisits blood dripping mysteriously from above, leading to a jumpscare horror. And revisits Dean ending up a total, muddy mess. There's detective-like interviewing and exposition, reminiscent of The X-Files, as well as the tell-tale woodsy wetness of filming in Vancouver, and a ritual explanation as to why they're taking a break from hunting for Dad.

A week has passed, and they found no clues in Jessica's death. Sam is understandably having nightmares and is withdrawn and somber and on edge. I do love that on rewatch the audience knows that Sam is hiding a secret and a guilty conscience. Dean sends many concerned glances Sam's way. The dynamic I see is Dean trying to direct their energies towards something more positive, which is solving Haley's case; the job John sent them to. I think it's a consistent strategy for Dean throughout the series to seek a hunting "win" as an emotional reset. And by the end of the hunt, we see it does revitalize Sam.

Dean says the iconic "saving people, hunting things, the family business" line. It's framed as "saving people, hunting things" = "the family business," and that works for the Kripke years. Now, having been through the whole series, I hear it as three separate things. The business (or workings) of family really is its own theme as the show goes on, and sometimes it doesn't have to do with the other two.

DEAN: Do you want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?  SAM: Dean... DEAN: No, you're not fine. you're like a powder keg, man. It's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?

I do find it strange to hear Dean say, "I'm supposed to be the belligerent one," except maybe it's said jokingly to get a reaction from Sam. So far Dean's been quite stoic when challenged, and likely to respond to hostility with smirky humor. Sam's more direct and quicker to be confrontational. Nice bit of foreshadowing with reference to Sam as "freaky" and about to blow up with anger, since the appearance of YED will expand on that later.

A few things that I especially enjoyed in this ep -- Dean's charm and chutzpah. The way he improvises on the fly. He's flirty but in a surprisingly sweet way. Sam's earnestness, knowledge, and fearlessness. His exhilaration when they finish the hunt. I'm also amused that starting here, bears come up as a civilian explanation for monster stuff.

It's hard not to take it for granted now, their chemistry as brothers. They especially feel like they're in their own world separate from the normal one, and we're privileged to peek into their experience. We're also privileged to enjoy their beautiful faces in cinematic closeups.

There's smarmy low-brow humor that seems characteristic of Kripke. I feel like he enjoys making the audience squirm a bit over it, just as he does with the horror gore. This isn't a show for nice bougie people, he seems to want to say, we like 'em rough around the edges. It's a bit of a caricature, but it's different, and feels harmless.

Harmless, like Dean's flirting. We can see through the artifice; we're in on the joke. Part of that joke is a show that's sometimes rough around the edges. Like the ep's final scenes making a big deal of Sam taking the keys to drive the Impala, followed by a long shot of them in Baby, with Sam on the passenger side. Oops! 😂