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#I know this seems like a crack au
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Someone jokingly throwing Phantom’s hat into the ring during the next election and now he’s seriously competing against Vlad Masters to be Amity’s mayor
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blue-rose-soul · 1 month
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AU where Lucifer went down to New Orleans sometime between 1900 and 1910, right in the middle of Mardi Gras. Charlie was about 100ish at this time, and while Lucifer and Lilith were still together, there was a growing emotional distance between them that had been going on for a few decades at this point. Lucifer's just trying to have some fun and forget his worries for a little while, and he does. And he meets a nice lady. A very nice Creole woman who makes a mean pot of jambalaya with a kick right out of hell. They hit it off and spend the majority of the celebration together.
They get drunk. Very drunk. Lucifer doesn't remember most of that night. The woman, Nicaise, is pregnant.
By some quirk of genetics, the child comes out indistinguishable from a normal human, if significantly paler than his dark-skinned mother. Growing up, Nicaise always tells her son that his daddy was an angel, but all the boy sees is that his father abandoned him and his mother in a world that doesn't look kindly on black women or single mothers. He watches his mother struggle, he watches her suffer, and he grows up resenting and hating the men who make her life hell. Especially his father.
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good-beanswrites · 4 months
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Imagine the awkwardness if in that Mikoto Prank Show ask however, if no one but Es and Jackalope were in on it… And they somehow got everyone’s crimes perfectly right.
LMAO 💀💀💀
Jackalope and Es are in on it, and they don’t even need to guess them -- the machine can be legit! As any good businessmen, they put this newfound life-changing technology to good use: reality TV. They get a hold of 10 random people, planning on editing and splicing the videos to make up some crazy stories about crime and guilt and see how people react. They chose an range of people that might feel guilt over something -- they assume doctors feel bad for losing patients even though they did their best, or policemen regret the people they can't save, or chronically online people feel responsible for things they're connected to -- but that's all.
They get to Haruka’s interrogation and Es comes back to the team going, “hey, did you guys watch the video? Crazy that this guy killed animals, huh.” Then Yuno’s rolls around and they go “shit I never would have thought she was the type for that, now she’s overthinking her abortion…” Then Fuuta. “What are the chances that so many people feel incredibly guilty over someone else’s death? Does everyone feel a secret responsibility for something that happened indirectly?” Then Muu. “Okay that was pretty direct. How did we find these people? Should we contact anyone about this? No? Okay.” Shidou. “?????” By the time they get to Mahiru’s interrogation and she readily admits to murder they’re like “yeah okay, I had a feeling.”
The funniest part is, Mikoto is the team's only hopeful case! From the very beginning, they hear him talking around the prison and everyone breathes a long sigh of relief. “Finally! A normal, not-murdery guy! Our show is saved! We have someone real to prank!” … And then.
(Slightly off-topic but I’ve always wanted to write a comedy normal au in which Es befriends the cast in different areas of their life; Amane is transferred to their school after her incident, Mahiru works in a nearby store, Shidou works at their local clinic, etc.) One by one they get close enough to Es to really trust them, and each confess to being involved with a death that was either indirect or very well covered up. The first few times it’s a beautiful moment of trust and vulnerability, but after like five confessions Es is sitting there like “seriously?? How does this keep happening????”)
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lunacrescentmoon · 1 year
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Void Issues
Saw a post by @calcium-cat and... yeah inspired- personally, in my head, I've always seen Error to know undernovella's language easy enough, understanding it since he works with different types of code. But, this was funny nonetheless, so, putting aside my own headcanon for the sake of this XD
So, to the story! Wholesome and angst cause why not-
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Cross was just minding his own business, walking through the castle. Nightmare and the others were all out getting groceries or something, he didn't really pay attention since Killer was shoving him in an ongoing war of who would shove who last-, and he had nothing to do.
Sure he could have talked to Chara, but he was most likely just going to be a nuisance and want to eat chocolate... only to find there would be none since Horror decided to raid the fridge again-
He heard something behind him, pulling out his knife, and turning around. Only to not only see nothing... but all white.
The poor skele had no clue what to do. Had the world just... fallen apart? Like....
Cross felt his soul beat faster, his eyes flashing in a panic. The edges of his vision grew dark and.. fuzzy? He couldn't tell. It was all blank. His mind raced as the silence echoed in his nonexistent ears. He knew he was left at the castle for a reason when the gang had business in a blank AU!
Collapsing to the ground, Cross gripped his skull, shaking a lot... until he saw... blue?.. lines of blue breaking the white apart into sections. He saw someone walk in front of him, a faint buzzing in his skull as the person spoke. He wasn't thinking enough to actually listen.
A touch on his shoulder grounded him, and he looked up. Error knelt in front of him, hand on the panicking skele's shoulder.
"Cross.... are you alright?" Error asked, glitching slightly from the touch.
Cross could only shake his head in response, still shaking.
"Well... come here." Error helped him up and walked behind him, Cross eagerly turning to look at him as the dark skeleton spoke again, "I... may have turned off the undernovella captions..... I need you to translate for me."
Cross blinked...... blinked again....... and blinked a final time before mumbling, "You... captured me........ to make me a t-translator....?"
"... Maybe... look just- sit in the beanbag.. I have hot chocolate-"
"Say no more!" Cross got up, rushing to sit in the violet beanbag usually reserved for Nightmare.
"You know I would have gotten Night if I could..."
"Yeah yeah, just pass the chocolate...."
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Hope you all enjoyed this short drabble. I may make a seperate tumblr for it, but I'm not sure if I want to or not-
I'll post more on Lunatale later, don't worry. I'm working on my dreamtale AU, Crackling Hope at the moment. It's more just a headcanon AU with some of my own flair thrown in for a future in the story- You'll see when I post it XD
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wonryllis · 1 month
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watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.
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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?
preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.
or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.
meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader
genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.
word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.
warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?
theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)
﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (coming soon)
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` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!
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“i don’t mind this feeling.”
YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.
god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like you are his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.
he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more than often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.
to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.
you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.
this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off this balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)
getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.
“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.
he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.
“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.
“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.
“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.
“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.
“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.
training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.
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it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.
she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.
however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.
wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.
“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.
jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.
“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.
the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.
“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.
looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.
“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.
“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.
with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.
“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.
you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.
“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.
“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.
“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.
his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.
he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’
“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.
two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.
he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.
“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.
“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.
“there's no mirror— “
“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.
jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.
“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.
“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.
“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”
“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.
in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.
the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.
he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.
“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.
for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.
when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.
“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.
“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.
“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?
you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.
”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”
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four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.
“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.
taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.
he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.
“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.
“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.
putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”
“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.
“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.
“no don't do this me,”
“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.
“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.
“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.
“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.
“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.
“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.
“yunie!”
“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.
“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.
“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.
“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.
“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.
the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.
he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.
you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.
“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.
“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.
you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.
but what she says next makes you lose your temper.
jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”
“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?
truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.
however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.
you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.
he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.
“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.
jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.
“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.
ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.
“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”
“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.
“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.
“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.
“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.
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a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.
after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.
“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.
it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.
'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.
by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.
dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.
after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.
in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.
“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.
“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.
“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.
it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.
but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.
“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”
“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.
the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.
“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.
“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.
when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”
“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.
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“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.
it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.
“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”
“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?
“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.
at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.
“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.
“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.
“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.
“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)
“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.
jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.
“alright say, what did you wanna say?”
“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.
he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.
“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.
“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.
“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.
“you need to punished!” you whine,
“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.
“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.
jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.
“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.
“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.
“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?
“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.
“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.
“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.
he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.
“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.
“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.
“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”
“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.
he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”
“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.
”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)
he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?
he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.
jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.
your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.
“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”
the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.
he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.
you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.
“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.
his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”
holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.
the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.
jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.
in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.
“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.
before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.
feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.
he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.
“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.
exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.
“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.
“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).
“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”
“jake!”
“what? it's the truth!”
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the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.
“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.
“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.
pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.
“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.
“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.
“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.
“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.
when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.
it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.
they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.
in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )
when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”
before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.
on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.
cheerleader, not a bad idea—
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“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.
“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.
“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.
“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.
“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.
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chisatowo · 1 year
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Thinking abt the sci fantasy au again. I find Aya and Chisato funny for many reasons but rn because Chisato has such a strong image of them being the one between the two that has everything together but when it comes to the both of their eldritch horror stuff Aya just has like. Everything together human form wise and Chisato super Doesn't and it freaks Chisato out every time it becomes relevant
#rat rambles#band posting#sci fantasy au#just because of the nature of his true form aya had to really really refine his human form before even inching towards earth#while chisato wasnt as instakill dangerous so they mostly just trial and errored their way into a good enough human form to work#so like they seem human enough to the point your agerage person wouldnt notice anything too odd but its very much not perfect#its mostly small things like them always smelling vaguely of salt water or fish and other aquatic life getting really panicked around them#but theres some more noticable stuff thats slipped through the cracks throughout their life#as a kid their eyes were a lot more fishy and even now prolonged contact with them will irritate the skin and make you rly tired#its mostly stuff they just dont know how to fix or used very slap on fixes for#for example they are super water proof since they couldnt find out how to make their skin stop getting slimy when wet so they just started#repelling water to prevent it which comes with its own problems but its worked well enough so far#tbh chisato does legitimately feel rly insecure abt how much more refined aya's human form is#aya feels a small bit of envy towards chisato having the ability to not need to fully perfect their human form as even now that its been#years with him living as a human with nothing bad happening the idea of some unknown misatake in his form hurting ppl terrifies him#and its very much worsened by the maya incedent even if she manages to recover well enough#and by well enough I mean physically shes fine but it did do a bit of a number to her relationship with pain but yknow#meanwhile eve just gets a free easy human form thanks to magic which is good cause itd be hard to do a lot of things as a toxic cloud
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drunkhazed · 6 months
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Gods & Monsters (p. sh, l. hs)
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pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung
genre. step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, fluff smut humor angst etc
warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon), profanity, toxicity, mentions of body/weight, sibling rivalry, cheating, mentions of death, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 23,000+
now playing. Gods & Monsters//Lana Del Rey
a/n. dear readers, I know you have waited and waited and waited, and I want to say thank you for that, I appreciate the patience🫶 please remember to be nice, I hope it was worth the wait🩷 ps- apologizing now for reblogging this to tag everyone, and double apology to anyone I did not get, forgive me🩷🩷🩷
smut warnings. Sunghoon’s mean… Heeseung isn’t, coercion, blackmailing, dirty talk, use of ‘princess/baby/good girl’, degradation, praise, throat/breast-fucking, oral, spitting, spanking, choking, desperation, overstimulation, unprotected sex.
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“I still can’t believe they’re related.” 
The brothers in question exit from the same car, the older of the two coming out of the backseat drowning in a black hoodie that hangs past his fingers, masking his eyelids where the hood droops over his head. Some old vintage band hoodie perhaps, the logo too tattered and faded to read. He moves like a black cloud amidst the drizzle of the beginning of a storm. Slow, dangerous, impending, waking shivers up bystander’s spines with his presence.
The younger strides statuesquely in all his glory, head held high flaunting his perfectly sculpted 90 degree jawline that could cut through glass windows. His steps move in a sleek stride, akin to floating in the way he moves as if no crack, rock, or rigged ground could break his model-like Paris fashion week runway walk. His steely gaze never deters, not once distracted by the many calls of fawning and giggles following his lead.
“They’re so opposite.” Your friends continue to chatter, whispering in front of you where you stand by the school’s parking lot sharing your morning greetings; most of the time before class is consumed by gossip and recounts of the weekend, the usual banter you mindlessly sift through. “I guess they look somewhat alike, both tall.. slender, similar in build.”
They shrug and turn to face you, eyebrows lifting curiously and deviously grinning. “You probably know better than anyone now that your mom’s dating their dad.”
Your friends chortle back and forth for a minute about how even Mr. Park is still attractive at his age, and it’s a shame that both brothers don’t take after their father. “Well? Come on,” one of them pokes at your arm. “Don’t be selfish, spill!”
They want to know more about the Park brothers, details you can’t divulge into, because really you don’t know much yourself. No more than every other student that may share a class here and there with one.
“Bet she has a crush on one of them.” You hear between a giggle, a round of laughs bursting and vocals rising in pitch.
“Heeseung’s so her type, bet she’s already hooking up with him.”
“Nah, Sunghoon has something about him behind that cleancut preppy image, you can tell he’s hiding some secrets.”
“I’ve only met them once,” you interrupt before they can continue to dissect and assume. “They seem..” shrugging you fail to come up with much else, heading off to class unable to tear your thoughts away from the two brothers.
Opposite from each other would be an understatement. They’re completely unlike, a scale weighed down on one end as the other lifts high, lit up by light and praise.
The first and only time you met the boys outside of school had been over dinner, your mother had been a nervous wreck; spinning and running around in a frenzy, forcing you to wear some high-collared prim and proper dress that hit below your knees. ‘Can’t have Mr. Park thinking I’ve raised some floozy now can I sweetie?’
Meanwhile, a frown etched your face as you gazed across the table where two men sat uninterested, phone in hand, still sporting their same attire from school earlier. Nonetheless their father showed up dapper as ever, crisp suit and tie, hair coiffed back neatly away from his face displaying every feature even in the candle-lit all too fancy restaurant he’d dragged you all to. 
‘I’ll order for us.’ Mr. Park carried himself with a confident arrogance, one passed onto only one of his sons from what you could tell.
‘Now boys, put the phones away.’ He said shortly, lips pursed together glaring daggers at the two. ‘And sit up straight would you? What have I told you about hunching over Heeseung? Remove that damn hood while you’re at it, this is a fine dining establishment not In-N-Out.’
Mr. Park snapped quickly, his demeanor immediately altering when taking in your mother, speaking to her in a sugary sweet tone. ‘You look absolutely breathtaking tonight my love.’
She flushed, making your nose twitch in disgust and divert your attention away to the menu, anything to not stare ahead at Sunghoon’s flawless side-profile, not that you hadn’t taken the time to while he scrolled engrossed through his phone, fingers tapping and tapping while a smirk grew on his lips.
The evening had been uneventful for the most part, your parents gushing about their trip to Greece last month; the one that your mother came back from squealing and proclaiming ‘I think he’s the one.’
Mr. Park had quite a bit to say about Sunghoon though, clasping his son on the shoulder with a pride-filled smile. ‘One day he’ll be my senior VP, my Hoon’s got a bright future ahead of him. Real smart boy this one, got offered a free ride through university without even needing my help or a generous donation.’
Sunghoon laughed deeply, waving off his father’s praise. ‘It’s all thanks to you dad, seriously what good would I be without your aid to finance the best education.’ 
A pearly white sharp smile had your mother gushing, letting out a cringe-worthy sigh with her palms pressed together. ‘Oh, all my hard work to provide the same and here mine is failing three of her easiest classes.’
‘Mom!’
‘Ah, yes, it seems you can deliver the ingredients on a silver platter, even hand feed them and your children could still disappoint you.’ Mr. Park’s eyes thinned, head tilting in the direction of his elder son. Heeseung avoided him, continuing to lose himself in some mobile game with his phone hidden beneath the table as he had all night. ‘But you know, Hoon’s a great tutor, so good that I’ve had teachers beg me to let him work over summer. Education comes first of course, don’t want him to stress and take on too much while interning at my company over break.’
Mr. Park motions toward you, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he could help you this school year, I’ll even allow him to do it for free.’
Sunghoon hid a grimace behind his smile, nodding and blinking rapidly at his father’s suggestion. ‘Would love to.’
He’d made you swap contact information, but Sunghoon never bothered to reach out and set-up any sessions. Not as if he had the opportunity to approach you in class, not that he even knew you shared any classes.
Deep in thought you strolled to the back of the class, slumping into your seat to tune out and lose yourself, much like everyone else who opted to hide out from questions and eye-contact with the professors.
Heeseung always loomed back here as well, the corner preferred, an oversized hood tugged over his head to shadow the upper half of his face leaving his lips mostly visible. Most likely as unaware of your presence as you once were of his, at least until that dinner.
You could say something to him, reach out and tap his shoulder, start to wave to greet him when you enter class.. something about that night crossed your mind time and time again, pivoting the sour thoughts away; your mom and Mr. Park could always break-up anyway. 
Mom💞: ‘Have important news tonight sweetie, come home right after school!’
“I wanted to tell you before the official announcement gets sent out.” Your mother smiles wide before you as if a clothes hanger has gotten lodged between her cheeks.
“What announcement?”
“As you know, things have escalated quickly between myself and Mr. Park.” She continues, grabbing a hold of your hands to control the anxious tremor rolling through her limbs. “I know you loved your father more than anyone, as did I, but you know how happy Mr. Park has made me.”
The rest of her words blend with white static noise filling your ears. It was inevitable that this day would come eventually, from the first time you peaked through your window blinds and caught sight of her flirting with your next door neighbor as they pretended to water the bushes and shared sneaking smiles, the itch up your spine resembling a warning.
“We’re moving in together.” She finishes, chewing at her lower lip nervously. “All of us.”
All of us.
Mom. Mr. Park. You.
and his two sons.
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“Sunghoon’s really smart.” Your mother forces a smile after reading an e-mail from your professor over your shoulder. “I’m sure Jinyeong mentioned something about one of his sons tutoring to make extra money, couldn’t have possibly been about Heeseung.”
Typing out a response to your professor about her jam-packed schedule and that she will outsource educational assistance for you, she huffs, leaning back after hitting send. “That Sunghoon is a God-send if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask. 
“I’ll have to beg him to help you out, maybe his father can encourage him with extra incentive.” Frowning at you, she tugs on the flimsy string of your tank top. “What have I told you about covering up more around the house? We live with men again, you can’t walk around displaying all of your body so carelessly anymore.”
Your mother could really care less if you feel offended by her commentary on your appearance, evident by her gaze scanning downward with an irritable tweak tugging her lip. “You know, I don’t pay for all these cute little gym sets for you to use as loungewear. When’s the last time you worked out? Slacking off in school and doing a poor job of maintaining your figure? What type of honorable hard-working man do you think you’ll be able to attract with no brains or looks to your advantage?”
“Yes mother.”
“Yes what?”
“Uh.” Sitting up ramrod straight, you frazzle, having tuned her out some minutes ago. “I’ll study harder and workout more.”
“And?” She nods to a baggy full of grapes by your side, cocking a snarky eyebrow at you.
“Oh..” you’re tempted to mutter something about how you’ve only had a handful, not even having time yet today to eat a proper meal. She wouldn’t care anyway. “Eat less.”
She grins, reaching over to tuck loose tendrils behind your ear. “You should pop into Jinyeong’s home gym downstairs, there’s even a sauna, it’s lovely.”
Unfortunately for you, she’s right, your step-father’s home gym is lovely.
“Rich people really live differently.” You mumble, popping your headphones on to warm-up with a walk on the treadmill. You can’t complain about your new living situation, Jinyeong, as he insists you call him now(because you both know dad would be too weird) has been extremely welcoming and accommodating to not only your mother but you as well. His sons on the other hand, too soon to say much about.
Heeseung has hardly spoken more than a few words, just as closed off and quiet as he comes across at school, and Sunghoon, well Sunghoon is perfect.
10 minutes of humming along to your sweat playlist and bouncing random thoughts around, you walk the gym contemplating if today should be an upper or lower body day, one accidental glance at your backside in the mirror solidifies your decision to focus on your lower half today.
“Deadlifts it is.” You groan to yourself, wiping your palms free of moisture before adjusting the weight. “No way Jinyeong lifts 150…”
“He doesn’t.” A loud deep tone passes beyond the low volume of your music, making you gasp and turn around in your bent position too fast, easily losing your balance and landing on your ass.
Sunghoon glares at you from the entrance, trudging in with a loose muscle tank and sweats on. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Uhm, working out?”
He scowls, watching you struggle to get back up as he steps around you to steal your spot before the barbell. “And why pretel do you think you can be here during my time?”
“Your time?” You guffaw, tempted to roll your eyes. “Well damn, I didn’t know we had a schedule to adhere to?”
“You think you’re funny.” Continuing to glower, he shoos you away with one hand, directing his chin toward the door. “Ha ha, now leave.”
“I just got here?!”
“I could care less.” Sunghoon’s jaw tightens, fully flexed in all its sharp glory. “Alexa, play Hoon’s Workout.”
To your disgust, Jay Park blasts through the speakers hung from corner to corner, the familiar beat of MOMMAE plays around you.
Of course he listens to Jay Park.. douche.
“I said get lost.” He rasps, stretching his digits out to wrap around the barbell.
Allowing your eyes to roll up, you shrug and glance around opting to set up on a yoga mat to stretch while he occupies the squat rack area. Sunghoon snarls behind you, annoyed that you won’t take the message he’s stated loud and clear to leave. 
What are you even doing here? Do you even workout? He grunts, hoisting the barbell up with a burn building up in his thighs and calves, peering out of the corner of his eye where you’ve begun to stretch.
Nice ass. 
Wait. 
What.
Shaking his head, he turns away to take a swig from his water, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyelids. Licking his lips, he throws his head back for more, turning casually to watch your ass push out as you stretch your waist and back on all fours.
What the fuck. 
Sunghoon coughs, clearing his throat before returning to his lifting stance, adrenaline pumping faster with each sneaking look he steals as you twist and groan with a crack coming from your back. The stretch has you faced away, a perfect opportune moment to get a real good look, taking in a deep gulp as he squints to admire how obscene your workout shorts are; scrunched deep enough between your ass to show off everything, absolutely everything.
He groans, half from the ache in his lower back, half from the ache forming between his thighs. Sunghoon shakes it off, whatever it is, toying with the ring suddenly tightening up on his finger. “Hey, you.”
He says, intending to come off rude. “I’m done over here now.”
Without much more, he turns to the free weights, going for the 50 lbs to warm up his triceps. An excited jump swoops through his stomach as you get up and make your way back to the squat rack, adjusting the weight to less than half of what he normally does his reps with. His tongue clicks upon noticing that from the mirror where he watches you get into position, moving away from the barbell on the floor to lower your shoulders beneath the rack. 
“Terrible form.” He mutters, unknowingly too loud with your music paused for this very reason.
“Excuse me?” You snap, turning at your neck to glare at him. “You still have more to say?”
Sunghoon drops the weights obnoxiously, loudly landing on the foam mats. “Your form looks like shit.” He smirks, turning around and snapping his fingers. “Who taught you to curve your spine like that? That’s a sure way to hurt yourself, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” You say with a disgusted sneer. “My forms fine.”
“It’s trash.”
“You’re trash.”
“Oooh, you get a lot of reaction with those comebacks?” His tongue clicks repeatedly, stepping up behind your back to grab your hips. “This.” He smacks the side of your thigh, igniting a jolt up your back. “Squeeze your ass and stomach in, at the same time princess.”
Against your better judgment and that little irritating voice squealing in the back of your mind at the close proximity you’ve landed yourself in to the Park Sunghoon, you do as he says, albeit struggling to hold in your core and glute muscles. “Good good.” He says in a low whisper much too close behind you, palms dragging up to your waist to squeeze. “Now bend your knees, the back of your ankles better be hitting your ass if you’re doing it right.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.” He grins, pressing closer until his groin meets your bottom. “Eventually you should be able to hit that, if you’re doing it right.”
Sunghoon would know after all, slowly licking his lips behind you, he focuses on the low groan vibrating out from your chest as you push back up to stand and huff.
“See how that felt different than that weak shit you were doing?”
“Whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you squat for the next 10 minutes, thighs on fire from engaging your muscles in a new, different way. Dumb jerk was right, of course he was.
“Not too shabby.” Sunghoon says, handing you a water bottle from the mini-fridge, because yes, even their gym has a fridge. “But you could be better.”
His pointed teeth protrude at the next roll of your eyes, wrapping long fingers around your upper arm before you’re able to get away. “This wasn’t an invitation by the way, I better not see you in here again during my gym time.”
He winks, smacking your backside as he shoves your arm away. “And I mean that!”
Grunting, you pat off the sweat from your back, ready to hit him with a round of offensive drags about his form.
Sunghoon’s back muscles greet you as you turn back around, jaw falling to the floor with each twitchy flex they give as his triceps burst and he groans with each lift.
Right.
Things could be worse.
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Things could definitely be worse.
Things are definitely worse.
After another email from your professor, your mother begged over dinner for your step-brother to help you pass the classes you’re lacking in. Much to his reluctance and added bribery from his father, he agreed with a forced wide smile, glaring ominously at you from the corner of his eye
“This is such a waste of time.” Sunghoon hasn’t tried to make any qualms about his disdain for your current predicament. Moaning and groaning more than actually bothering to assist you or answer your questions in any type of way, at least when he’s not fixing his perfectly blown out hair if even a strand moves out of place.
“I took this class last year.” He continues to whine. “Wasn’t even hard, well..” his eyes drag over to one side, head shaking at your less than flattering hunched over position. “Wasn’t hard for me, but I suppose for someone like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re quick to snap back, leaning away from your study guide to stretch your arms above your head. Sunghoon doesn’t bother to hide taking in the arch your spine lifts into, chest pushed upward the more you lean back to loosen your shoulders. He even hums appraisingly, pursing out his lips pleased.
“When we were working out together the other day, I noticed something about you.” 
“Before or after you chewed me out for invading your space?” You snicker, rolling your eyes and settling back to sit comfortably. “I told you, I’ll join a gym again and leave you to be at peace.”
“It’s not that.” Sunghoon waves you off, nodding to the stack of study guides. “You need to pass these classes, right?” 
“That’s why I’m here, genius. Taking up your sweet precious time.”
He doesn’t miss the snarky attitude you add, not sparing him attention as you return to rereading the same question for the fifth time.
“I was my high school’s valedictorian, top of the Dean’s list for the past 2 years, scouted by every Ivy League in the world really.” He shrugs, motioning to the display of plaques and honors hung up on his bedroom wall. “You know that though, you can’t be that stupid. Even extraterrestrials wish I’d visit to share my wealth of knowledge.”
“Good God man, get to the point.” You glower, ready to snap the mechanical pencil in your grip in half.
“This tutoring thing is pointless.” He pauses, deciding to leave out the part about you actually being stupid. “Girls like you have no purpose in excelling academically, especially not now with my father’s last name attached to yours.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? Girls like me?” 
Sunghoon smirks, nodding slowly as his gaze drags from your crossed legs up to your torso and the less than fond grimace you stare him down with.
“Girls like you..” he reaches for your knee, walking his index and middle finger up your thigh. “This little emo baggy clothes aesthetic, you’ll grow out of it someday. It’s what your mom wants, right? Judging by the way she scolds every move you make, fixes your hair, makes you wear those drabe goody church outfits around my father to impress him.”
Sunghoon leans in closer, falling to a whisper as his digits reach the top of your thigh. “Who knew what you were hiding under all this,” he tugs on your t-shirt, biting down on his full pink bottom lip. “There’s a standard to uphold now that our parents have wed.”
He licks his top lip purposely, leaving behind a coat of spit that accentuates how perfectly shaped his pout is without even trying. Distracted by his hand playing with your top, you realize too late how close he’s moved his chair to yours. “Money changes people.”
“What? You think I can be easily swayed by a bunch of stuck-up rich assholes like you who think you’re superior just because daddy keeps your bank account full?” Your hand circles his wrist, not without feeling your heart rate spike upon contact. Sunghoon’s as cold to the touch as he looks, grinning when your grip tightens around him.
“I have sure-fire way to find out.” He splits into a smile, gingerly tugging your fingers off his wrist before twisting and rubbing the skin dramatically with a hiss. “Here’s the thing,” Sunghoon stands up, moving to a cabinet full of paperwork, all ordered and labeled much too neatly. 
“You want to pass these classes, right?” He stops to look over his shoulder at your confused face. “Or what was that again? Mommy’s not going to fund your European summer vacation trip? That one you’ve been dreaming about and making Pinterest boards for since middle school?”
“She told you about that?” You grumble, whispering to yourself. “That bitch..”
“Shh, that’s no way to speak about your mother, she’s a lovely woman.” He winks, snapping his fingers. “Here it is. I took these courses my first year of college. Top grades in my class, of course.” Sunghoon shrugs, pulling out two thick folders. “You see because of tutoring, I’ve saved all my study guides, assignments, tests, quizzes, cheat sheets, well— you get the point. Right here, I have everything to help you pass these courses with minimal effort on your part required.”
“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” You say annoyed, standing up to snatch the folders from him.
“Nuh-uh-uh—“ Sunghoon has the nerve to laugh, lifting the files high above him and throwing back his head to cackle when you jump up in an attempt to steal them anyway. “Why would I make it that easy for you?”
“Why not??” You grunt, slapping his arm. “You don’t want to tutor me! I don’t want to be here! Let’s do us both this favor so my mom can get off my ass.”
Sunghoon snorts, flicking your chin condescendingly. “First lesson in Economics, everything has a price.”
“You want money??” You ask completely bewildered. “With all the money your dad gives you, you really need more from me??”
He analyzes the distraught anger building up between your wrinkled eyebrows, nodding and smirking. “I didn’t say anything about money.” Sunghoon waves the folders in your face, smacking them lightly on the top of your head before laughing again when you swing at him again. 
“I said a price.” He thumbs through the stacks of paperwork, biting back a smile. “You have something I want.”
He steps closer to you, reaching for the hem of your shirt again. “Something you’ve done a real good job of hiding.”
“Wha—“
Sunghoon tilts his chin in, eyes half-lidded with his head angled lower, grazing a thumb across the waistband of your shorts. “How much are you willing to do for me to get what you need?”
“You’re not serious.” Your palms itch by your hips, ready to slap the growing smirk off his face.
“Maybe I am..” he trails off, dipping his thumb past the button of your shorts. “Depends..” he tugs, pulling your hips to his. “How serious are you about your dream summer vacation? Because if I was you.. I wouldn’t fuck up this opportunity I’m offering you.”
“You—“ stammering, you pull away until the 
backs of your knees meet the edge of his bed, cursing under your breath. “You want..”
“Wanna fuck you?” Sunghoon says flatly, eyebrows raised to patronize you further. “A lot of air passing through that head of yours?”
“Man, fuck you.”
“I’m giving it my all.” He shrugs, throwing the folders onto his bedside table. “Listen, you’re giving me virgin vibes. Is that what this is about?”
“What?!”
“Ah, I should have known.” Shrugging, he points a finger up and down your figure. “You’re one of those prudish types. That’s why you cover up so much, yeah?”
“I’m not a virgin.”
Sunghoon’s shoulders fall, squinting at you apprehensively. “Then what’s the deal? What, you’re the only girl within a 50 mile radius that hasn’t thought about my dick?”
“You’re actually insufferable.” You say, stunned that you’ve even found yourself having this conversation. “Besides, our parents are married now.”
Sunghoon smiles, not a charming or genuine smile, a vindictive terrifying one at best. “Exactly, little step-sister.”
Who knew that the Park Sunghoon is really nothing but your average typical perverted horny young-adult man. You frown, taking in his clean-cut pristine appearance, that shallow sinking sensation of realization melting between your chest.
All men are the same.
“You’ll really help me pass?”
Sunghoon nods greedily, moving into your personal space to nudge your chin. “Trust me, you couldn’t fail even if you tried with my help.”
“Okay.” You whisper, scanning his room for a fast way to escape.. if you need to. “Why me?”
Sunghoon laughs breathily, reaching for the end of your t-shirt to slowly inch up your torso. “Why not you.” He pokes your navel, index finger dragging upward, tracing the center of your stomach up to where your bra lays.
Whiplash hits hard between the churn in your stomach and a shiver rippling up through your limbs. Given any other scenario, one where you weren’t being threatened so-to-speak to pleasure your step-brother, you can’t deny that you’d give in willingly either way. 
Sunghoon in every sense is fatally attractive. From his deep voice, to the aromatic musky sweet cologne wafting off his clean soft exfoliated skin, to his, well, devastatingly gorgeous unflawed face; you have to tell yourself once again, things could be much worse.
“What do you want me to do?”
He grins, tapping your forehead with his free hand, index finger prodding condescendingly. “Not that dumb after all. Knew you had it in you princess.”
Sunghoon cups your breast, thumb pushing at your nipples through the cup of your bra. “Take it off.”
He takes one step back, motioning with his chin for you to hurry up. The easy part is pulling your shirt off, not as if he hadn’t seen you in a sports bra the other day. Crossing his arms, he nods for you to continue, biceps bulged out from where they clench against his chest.  
Heat of embarrassment traces up your neck, smoothing the straps of your bra off your shoulders as you look away and reach back to unhook the clasp, dropping the garment down to your feet. Sunghoon pouts his lips, quietly whistling and returning to his spot, much too close, close enough to lodge one of his thighs between yours. “That wasn’t so hard now was it.”
Cupping your hips, he peers down, taking in your chest up close with the top row of his teeth searching for his bottom lip to dig into. Unbeknownst to you, it’s been awhile.
Four weeks actually, Sunghoon realizes at the first twitch of his length against his pants, lodging himself closer to your center for you to feel it. 
“Very pretty.”
Fastening your waist, his digits dig into your sides, forcing a gasp to spill from your mouth. “I was right.” He says smugly, tickling up past your chest and now hardened nipples. “Noticed those pretty lips first.”
Sunghoon gets your heart racing easily, splaying a palm over your throat as his other hand cups your chin, dipping his thumb into the fat of your bottom lip. “Bet $1000 they’d look even prettier struggling to take my dick.”
His thumb sneaks in past your lips, pressing against the center of your tongue until you whimper, chest pushed up against yours. “Show me how pretty that mouth can look.”
He keeps whispering about your slutty mouth and breasts, thumb shoved into the hilt allowing for you to mimic a blow-job around him. Lips circled around the digit obscenely as you slurp his thumb and dip your head up and down. “That’s it, suck me real fucking good just like that until I cum all over these pretty tits.”
Sunghoon’s thigh jerks up between yours, digging up higher until his muscle flexes against your warm crotch. “No gag reflex princess?” He grins, neck bending in close to lavv at the mess of spit pouring free from your lips suctioned around his thumb. “Messy messy messy.”
The grip on your neck tightens, forcing a burning itch up your throat, eyes squeezing shut as you cough and unintentionally bite down on his hand. “Fuck!”
Sunghoon hisses, tearing his hand away with a shake to get rid of the sting, glaring at you as he returns to grab your jaw roughly. “What the fuck was that?”
Bleary wet eyes stare back at him, bottom lip drawn out innocently, his tongue clicks, shaking his head annoyed. “Don’t fucking do that again.”
Sunghoon rumbles deep within his chest, pushing down on your shoulders until you drop to your knees in startlement, recuperating quickly to get between his thighs as he sits and manspreads before you. He slaps your hands away faster than you can say ‘ouch’, drawing them to your chest with a dramatic pained hiss.
“Not like that,” he tuts, unbuttoning his pants and nodding to the zipper. “I’m even giving you a head start, say thank you.”
Tight-lipped, you crouch in closer and mutter a ‘Thank You’, burning head to toe from the embarrassment, because whether you want to admit it or not, Sunghoon’s hot. You can always fib the truth, but the damp material between your thighs will give you away each time; having to clench your legs together for a bit of relief.
“Good, now remember what I said, no biting.” Sunghoon warns you again, pinching your chin. “No hands either, get me off with that pretty mouth only.”
Lazily, watching you with hooded eyes, Sunghoon reaches lower to run the pads of his fingers down the zipper of his pants, taunting you further. “I’m waiting.” Continuing down, he traces the prominent shape of his cock, starting from the base and working to the tip as he lines the shape. The chubbed up girth clearly visible this up close, already swelling your throat just from looking at it.
The silver zipper gleams back at you, dangling a bit as if to mock you more. Thickly swallowing, you scoot in on your knees, nose brushing the shape on your way to catch the zipper between your lips and struggle to pull it down, his pants tighter from the stretch of his hardened cock ready to rip through the material.
Sunghoon chuckles when you finally manage to get the zipper down, wishing to further humiliate you, if only his cock agreed. “Little princess doesn’t know how to suck dick, huh?” He coos in a fake sweet tone, shifting up to push down his pants past his knees. “What do you say?”
“Thank you..”
“Fast learner, I like that.” He laughs mirthfully, nodding to his hard-on once again. “Let’s see what you got.”
“You said no teeth.” You say, growing annoyed the more you watch his cock throb, confined by the tight material of his briefs. The wet spot at the tip indicates more than enough that he’s tired of waiting. “Take it out!” Rolling your eyes, you slap his knee, demanding he at least do that.
“No wonder you’re failing so many classes.” Sunghoon mumbles, rolling his eyes back at you and shoving his briefs down past the wet head of his cock, widening your gaze as you take all of him in, all.
“Two classes..” you trail off, suddenly antsy as he circles the base of his length and strokes upward fully displaying the full thick long size of his girth. “You’re huge.”
Sunghoon snorts, squeezing under the head for his foreskin to pull back around the bulbous tip, glistening with precum. “Don’t look so terrified, it’s unbecoming.”
Even his fingers brighten with a shade of pink, the whites disappearing as he strokes and tugs against the tip. “Now.” Biting down on his lip he adjusts for the head of his cock to hover near your parted mouth, dragging the wet head slowly along your upper lip. “Let’s see if that gag-reflex is actually nonexistent.”
Without waiting another second he reaches for the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair to push your face toward his lap and glide past your lips. The intrusion throws you off initially, coughing around the fat stretch pulling the corners of your lips apart further. “Fuck, feels real good.”
The heavy weight of his cock rushes spits down your chin as he builds up a pace, balls hitting your chin the more he works you up and down while simultaneously lifting his hips up to hit the back of your throat. Sunghoon groans, teeth clicking together from biting down hard to keep his voice low, thrusting harder and rougher until your throat gives and loosens up around him allowing him into the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!”
Finding the perfect angle to have your mouth constricted around his length, he holds you down; ripping tears from your eyes from the constant burn around your lips, incessantly stimulating the inside of your mouth and suppressing your breathing.
It’s agonizing at first, making Sunghoon’s abdominal muscles lock up and suck in from the lack of sound coming out of you. His eyes roll back, circling into your mouth easily in disbelief. 
“Your throats such a perfect little fuckhole for me, huh?” He babbles, finally pulling out. The release pouring out wads of spit down your chin and neck, wide-eyed as you catch your breath.
“Is that pussy wet?” Sunghoon bends forward, reaching to pinch and tug on your stiff nipples, twisting the buds between his fingers. “Don’t lie to me, I can see it all over your face.”
“Y-yes..” succumbing to the invisible weight against your chest, you nod; head dropping shamefully in a weak attempt to hide what you can only imagine the mess looks like all over your chin; staring down blearily at the river of spit and precum running down your chest, meeting in the middle before splitting off under your chest.
“Does it hurt?” Slapping your breasts, he grips one, digits kneading into the fat and pushing it up higher on your chest; his other hand wrapping around your neck to lift your gaze back to him. “Pussy hurts so bad doesn’t it?”
Gulping beneath his grip, your eyes fall shut with a whimper, tears streaking down the sides of your cheeks. Huffing for a breath under his choke as you crumble and can’t find your voice to say more.
“Come on,” Sunghoon shakes your neck, jostling your head, making your eyes snap open. “Fucking look at me.” He bites, reaching his other hand up to stroke your hair away from your face and examine the wads of tears clumping your eyelashes together. Swollen wrecked lips hung open desperately panting for air, lines of wet and dried tears racing down under your chin. “Tell me exactly what your pussy wants.”
It’s more than degrading, because he knows you don’t want it, not really. Not your mind, your heart, but just like the rest, your cunt will always be your downfall. Greedy for cock like any common whore.
“Y-you,” you cry, fitting your hand around his wrist as a silent plea to loosen his grip on your throat. “Wants you.”
Smirking to one side, his gaze sparks with a different type of vindictiveness, one that lets you know that you won’t be getting none of that. Holding your neck back, he scoots forward until his ass nearly hangs from the bed, gripping around the base of his angry blood-filled cock to slap angrily between your chest. The sudden smack of hot flesh on your wet breasts has you arching up, coughing with another squeeze around your throat. “Think I don’t know that princess? I bet you could cum from this alone. You know how big of a slut you have to be to get off just from sucking cock?” 
Sunghoon drops your neck with a wide pleased smirk, releasing his hold on you to scoop under your breasts, pushing the fat mounds together for his cock to perfectly sandwich between with a guttural groan. “Oh fuck, that’s it.”
He thrusts viscously, pumping between your breasts, eyebrows bunched together releasing short breathy hisses through his pursed lips. “Fuck, look at the way those tits bounce, better than a pussy.” Sunghoon groans, slamming his cock in and out, losing his hold on your breasts the more ferocious his movements become. 
“Hold your tits for me.” Sunghoon growls, snarling when you don’t move fast enough. “Push them together, squeeze around me real tight baby.” Grunting, he wraps around the back of your neck, hips moving on their own to fuck between your jiggling breasts, spit and precum guiding the way for his cock to slip right through, the tip hitting the hollow between your collarbone.
Each thrust has you jerking under his control, his hand gripping your nape rougher for more command over his movements. Ramming his girth in and out, he mutters multiple curses, hips twitching up with one last thrust before reaching up into your hair, gathering enough in his hands to create two pigtails.
“Back in that slutty mouth.” 
Sunghoon’s pull on your hair snaps your neck back, mouth popping open for him to freely shove the entirety of his size back inside. The tip of his cock slides past your tonsils, finally making you gag and lurch around him, coughing out copious amounts of drool around his size as he relentlessly hammers in chasing after release.
 “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it!” He shouts between gritted teeth, hips angled to stretch your mouth wide open. Balls deep with every inch of his cock drenched in a mess of spit, the heat and suction from your lips grows overbearing; burying as deep as he can with your nose struggling to breathe against his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. “Ugh!”
Pulling hard enough on the tufts of hair balled up in his fists, he shouts behind sucked in lips, eyes wrinkled shut to stop himself from screaming out loud. Between panted breath, Sunghoon orders you to swallow, grinding his hips forward leaving you with no choice but to comply. Mouth locked around his cock as long streaks of cum shoot inside the back of your throat, gurgling around his length as he fills you up. Tightening his grip on your hair almost punishingly, he pulls the tufts tightly into his fist; cock buried deep ensuring you take every last drop.
“All of it.” he croaks, tone breaking into a rasp. “Swallow all of it.” With one more deep grunt, he pulls out, the last bit of cum spilling out onto your chin. Wet cock dragging down your cheek with a satisfied cocky smirk on his face. 
“You look way too good with my dick on your cheek, could seriously get hard again just from looking at you.” 
Sunghoon sighs, collapsing back on his bed with a long-winded sigh, head dizzy from the aftermath of his orgasm still passing through his limbs. “Fuck that was too fucking good.” He says more to himself, sounding elated, completely missing the grimace painting your face as you lick between your teeth, nose scrunched up.
“Done?”
Sunghoon’s hand lifts, waving your question off. “Yeah yeah.”
He pushes up to stand just in time to see you use the inside of your shirt to clean off your chin and chest, tongue clicking because he should have made you swallow that too. 
“I’ll let you know when we can have our next session.” Sunghoon winks, standing up to wave the packet of completed aced quizzes and assignments over your head. “If only you took school as serious as you take sucking cock.”
Snatching the packet from him, you leer, ripping open his bedroom door ready to run for the bathroom to douse yourself in shower gel and scrub the fuck out of your skin, halted as you come face to face with the other Park. Thankfully not your step-father.
Heeseung’s eyes go wide as if he’s been caught, eyes shifting back and forth up and down the hallway for a way to sneak off. 
“What are yo—“
“I can explain!” Heeseung whispers urgently, running a hand through his hair anxiously, grateful that you closed the door behind you. “I mean, I didn’t hear anything.”
“What?”
“I mean—“‘he stutters, waving goodbye and shaking his head dismissively before jogging down the hall to his bedroom. 
“Weird.”
A much needed shower keeps your mind occupied from delving too deep into what Heeseung could have been doing out there, passing by more than likely. Maybe. Scrubbing your forearms and stomach down until your skin burns, you hiss, replaying the sounds of Sunghoon’s moans and pleasured breathy whines. What the hell did he mean by ‘next session’, did he really plan to make this a recurring activity? 
Why would he want to start up some type of fuck-buddy situationship with you either way? As the bathroom mirror clears up of fog, you brush at the backs of your teeth roughly, swearing that you can still taste particles of his tangy cum. Leave it to some dickhead to be the first to spill his load inside of your mouth, he’s lucky you didn’t regurgitate it and spit it all back in his face.
It’s no worse than the random hot frat guy you’ve hooked up with at a party, or bartenders that slipped you their number at a club to meet up at the end of their shift; other than you know, the whole parents married to each other: siblings through matrimony aspect.
That’s one way to make yourself feel better about what just happened, shrugging it off as you exit the bathroom and make way to your bedroom, paused on the way down the hall to glimpse in the direction of Heeseung’s room. A low murmur of music drifts from his cracked open door, focusing on your hearing at the familiarity. “Is that?”
Too nosey for your own good, you creep toward his bedroom, lighting up at your correct recognition. “You like Deftones?”
Heeseung jolts up in his computer chair, dropping the vinyl record in his hands at your surprise entrance. “Shit.”
“Oh, sorry.” You flinch, hoping your presence didn’t crack the record as it hits his bedroom floor. “Should have knocked..”
“My fault my fault,” he waves calmly, internally screaming with quick a fast analysis of the record and vinyl for any damage. “All good.” He breathes, finally getting a look at you only to choke on his spit at the towel wrapped around your chest. “Oh uh..”
“I love this song.” You nod, moving further into his room to read over the various posters hung up from wall to wall. “Wow, you have good taste.”
“Wait,” he sits up, ignoring the lack of clothing beneath that towel. And the sweet scent of vanilla and peach now filling his room, the driblets of water still clinging to your skin; glowing in a ridiculously unrealistic manner where you stand.. 
“Did you say you like Deftones?”
“Love them.” You correct, moving inside to sit on the end of his bed, thighs pressed together tight. “My favorite band actually.”
“No way.” Heeseung looks down to avoid making it glaringly obvious how hard he’s fighting to not stare at every inch of your exposed skin. “That’s crazy.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl?” You scoff, making your step-brother shake his head. 
“One of my favorite bands too, maybe my all time favorite.” He informs, coughing to clear his throat and stand, moving to a crate full of records. “What’s your favorite release?”
“Probably Diamond Eyes, I won’t lie. This Place Is Death is like the best song ever.” 
Heeseung can feel his ears burn, swallowing as he turns to show you an original copy of the first release of said album. “You have good taste too, I really like Beauty School.” 
“Great choice.”
Heeseung nods timidly, moving to the record player to play your favorite track. “There’s something really out-of-body about this song.”
“Right? It’s like floating, weightless. The vocals and music harmonize together so good, it's like I’m in a dream.”
Heeseung does his best to ignore the suggestive lyrics for now, returning to his seat. “Have you seen them live? I went to their last tour, great setlist.”
Pouting, you shake your head ‘no’, gripping the connected top of your towel to adjust the tightness over your chest. “I wish, my moms kind of.. strict, I guess. I’ve stopped asking her about concerts after hearing no a handful of times. Don’t need another lecture about how this type of music is for the low lives of society, bottom feeders, boot lic—“
“Oh woah woah.” Heeseung interrupts with an uncomfortable chuckle, trying not to take any of it personally. Your mom does seem like a hard ass.. 
“Sorry.”
“No no, I’m sorry, that suck’s seriously.”
Shrugging, you give him a playful frown. “Nothing you could do about it. All she cares about is my looks and grades, and my role in society.” Even if it’s just to end up becoming some wealthy man's stay-at-home housewife to be cheated on someday. Not that you need to bring up that part.
Heeseung pinches his bottom lip in thought, nodding along to what you’re saying, choosing to shove aside the sound of his brother's grunts and heavy panting at the mention of your grades. “They’re playing next week actually, maybe…”
“Oh really? Are you going?” 
He hums, going on about how many concerts he’s been to this year alone. “If there’s a tour in town, I’ll be there.”
“Ah, I’m jealous.” Digging your toes to the floor, you sit up straight and clutch your towel with a mortified expression. “Oh my God, I’ve been sitting here this whole time like this?!?” Rushing to stand, you skitter quickly for the door, turning to bow apologetically. “My heads all foggy, I wasn’t even thinking.”
Heeseung laughs softly, muttering off a ‘no no no it's all good’. 
“My doors usually open,” he shrugs, jokingly mentioning to knock at least so he doesn’t end up wailing out a loud high-pitched scream that he’ll never be able to live down. “Whenever you wanna hang out and listen to music or whatever.”
“I’ll make you regret that.” You grin, waving before making your way out.
Heeseung lets out a long sigh, mostly from releasing the tension in his back after trying(and failing) to fight off his perverse thoughts.
She’s fucking Sunghoon anyway, he reminds himself. Of course she is. Everyone’s favorite Park brother, even their parents.
Heeseung shoves that aside in the meantime, laying back on his bed to enjoy the faint traces of your body wash left behind.
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Heeseung’s been on edge ever since overhearing his brother on the phone, almost forgetting himself of the younger’s relationship. He sits stiffly against his headboard, gnawing at his lip to quell away his nerves. They’d be back soon from picking her up, and luckily luring you to his bedroom had become easier the more you realized how many bands you both listen to.
“So, what are you doing later?”
Even from the side of your face he can tell your eyebrows furrow, confused that he’d even ask. “Mom didn’t tell you about the dinner?”
Bile rises in his throat at the casual way you say mom, swallowing down the need to correct you. Shaking it off, he repeats to himself to focus before time runs out.
“I had plans to meet up with a few friends tonight, we scored some last minute tickets to the Deftones concert a few towns over. Might go explore this new record store beforehand, you’re welcome to come.” Heeseung scratches his nape apprehensively, focused on you thumbing through the crates of vinyls lined up along his bedroom wall. “My friend Jake, he uh.. he can’t make it tonight, change of plans. I offered to buy his ticket off of him if you wanna…”
“A concert tonight?” You frown, ending your search when one of the album covers catches your eye, gently drawing it out and delicately freeing the record. “This is one of my favorites by them, you have good taste”
Heeseung silently agrees, lifting the record player's needle for you to set it in place. “Yeah, we can go out to Rick’s Rockin’ Records too, I haven’t been since they moved to a new location out there. Maybe grab something to eat, or.. whatever you want to do. I already asked dad if I can borrow the car tonight.”
“Hmm,” music thrums from his speaker set-up, the volume low blending in well with the darker atmosphere he’s built in his bedroom. “Can’t do that today, mom said tonight’s really important. Something about meeting Sunghoon’s friend, I don’t know she wasn’t super specific.”
Heeseung sighs, chewing on his nail as he sits down on his bed and watches your hips sway slowly to the beat of the music. “About that—“
“I should probably get ready actually,” you groan, turning to look at him with an annoyed sneer. “If not I’ll never hear the end of it over dinner. Surprised your dad’s letting you go out?”
“Well..” Heeseung stands in an attempt to distract you and try to keep you in his room longer if possible. Not that it would help to keep you away from heading downstairs at some point.. 
“What if I talk to your mom? You said you never get to see them when they tour.” Heeseung says in a rushed panicked tone. “I don’t want this free ticket to go to waste.”
“You would do that for me?” You squint back at him confused, from barely having more than a few run-ins and conversations over music in the last few weeks; his eagerness seems misplaced, unusual even.
“I mean,” Heeseung can feel his mouth drying up, patting his palms down his sides to calm his nerves. “It’s not a big deal.”
The telltale sound of a car engine shutting off outside of his window steals both of your attention, cursing under your breath as you peer through his blinds. “I have to get ready.”
“Wait wait!” Heeseung blocks the door before you can manage to leave, awkwardly stretching his arms out. “The other day, with my brother..”
“Oh.” 
“It’s not like that.” His hand waves, reaching to massage his temples. “There’s something about him that I think you should know.”
“No no, it’s okay. I’m not into him like that.” You lie, avoiding his gaze. “My mom’s making him tutor me, that’s why I was in his room. I mean like, when you saw me.”
Heeseung nods, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly. “Do you like him?”
“What? No.” You answer too fast, huffing out a laugh while peering around him for an escape. “Why would I like him? He’s..”
“Everyone likes Sunghoon.” He says factually, expression drooping as he nods and steps aside. 
Yeah. Everyone. Including you.
The shout of your name breaks your thoughts, saved by the bell as your mothers tone rings out akin to an alarm. Lifting up onto the balls of your feet you apologize and scamper away to rush out of Heeseung’s bedroom. 
“You better be ready!” She follows, making you work urgently to race through your closet for an outfit she would choose for you. Something to make you seemingly presentable enough in the presence of whomever your mother considers ‘important’.
What if it’s one of Sunghoon’s attractive friends? He’s good looking, good looking people tend to know each other, right? He seems to prefer when you show more skin.. but a deadly glare from your mom may not be worth it only for a few fleeting glances of interest.
A knee length high-neck dress can’t make her mad, you’re positive she purchased this for you at some point anyway.
Another shout of your name has you jogging toward the stairs while hopping into a pair of flats and attempting to zip up the back of your dress all at once, the extra hobble down the last few steps drawing a round of attention your way right as you land with a deep breath and smooth out the wrinkles down your front.
“There you are.” Your mother glowers, eyeing you disapprovingly and reaching to tug on one of your earlobes. “Not even a pair of earrings? Could you be more of a slob, darling?” She whispers, wrapping an arm around your back and leading you into the living room. 
Sunghoon stands near his father, back facing the both of you as he nods and laughs at something obscured by their combined size. 
“Our guest just landed an hour ago and still had the decency to at least wear a pair of high heels. What’s your excuse?”
High heels?
“Ah, there you are.” Your step-dad turns, unveiling a petite blonde, still small in stature despite the 5 inch pair of stiletto Chanel pumps pinching her toes. Perfectly feminine and radiant where she stands close to Sunghoon’s side. “This is Miyeon, Sunghoon’s girlfriend.”
Heeseung leans near one of the entrances, gaze bouncing back and forth from his brother, to you, to Miyeon. The air is heavy enough to shatter through glass, freezing you in place with wide eyes. “Girlfriend?”
Sunghoon clears his throat, avoiding your questioning glare as he reaches to pull Miyeon in and places a kiss on top of her head. 
“Yes, they’ve been together since middle school, can you believe that?” 
“No. I can’t.” You say stoically, going fully ignored by your step-brother. 
“Miyeon attends school in New York, but she’s back home for the week.” Your step-father informs, smiling lovingly at his son and his presumed future daughter-in-law. 
“Middle school.” You repeat under your breath, eyes darting around for something to distract you. Heeseung comes near, not missing your surprise. 
“Hey, I’m heading out soon if you—“
“Yes!” You pipe up abruptly, reaching for his arm, aggressively nodding. “Right, the concert!”
“What concert?” Your mother asks, tongue clicking annoyed. “What have I told you about concerts”
“I invited her.” Heeseung states confidently, excusing himself to stand in front of you. “If that’s okay with you, dad? They’re her favorite band and she never gets to see them. I had an extra ticket so I offered..”
“That’s awfully nice of you Hee.” Sunghoon says with a sleek gaze, hugging Miyeon tighter into his side. “What about Jake?”
“He’s feeling sick.” Heeseung snaps back at his younger brother, returning to his father who looks contemplative. 
“That is nice of you.” He reiterates, humming and reaching for his wallet. “Get something to eat too, since you’re not staying for dinner.”
Your mother’s eyes widen at that, biting down hard on her teeth to force a smile. “Ah, I cooked enough for all of us.”
“It will be good for the kids to spend time together.” He shrugs. “Leftovers never hurt anyone darling. Here Hee, don’t stay out too late or your mom won’t be able to sleep.”
He hands over a rolled up wad of cash, reaching for the keys in his pocket. “Take my car, Hoon’s going to need his to drive Miyeon home later.”
“I thought I was staying over?” You hear her whisper to your step-brother, the scowl between his eyebrows unwavering as he glares back and forth from his brother to you.
“Since when have the two of you been close?” He asks, ignoring Miyeon’s question.
Heeseung shrugs, wringing the keys around his fingers. “Learn something new everyday, don’t we?” He subtly peers from his brother to the girl by his side, fast enough to go unnoticed to anyone other than Sunghoon.
“I think it’s nice.” Your step-father speaks up. “I’m happy to see you kids getting along like real siblings.”
Heeseung forces a smile, unable to explain to himself why that comment even bothers him. “We’ll be safe.” He says to your mother, nodding for you to follow him.
“Uhm,” matching his pace you smooth down the dress you wore specifically with your mother’s judgemental glare in mind, not bothering to even say goodbye to Sunghoon nor his girlfriend. “Should I change?” 
Heeseung shrugs, scanning your figure swiftly and scratching the side of his neck. “If you want to feel more comfortable? It’s a general admission show so..”
“Give me a minute, yeah?” He nods, adding that he’ll get the car started as you jog up the stairs and burst through your closet, ripping off the stuffy drab outfit from your skin. ‘What should I even wear to a concert?’
“What the fuck is this about?” Sunghoon surprises you, jumping up with a gasp and tugging a sweater in front of your chest. “Why is Heeseung taking you out?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” You snap back, hissing under your breath after hearing the faint sound of conversation bustling downstairs, Miyeon’s charming laughter sprinkled between. “I wouldn’t have..”
“Wouldn’t have what?” He steps forward, crowding into your space inside of your closet. “Suck my dick the way she never would?”
He smirks, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and lifting his other to show off a silver band snuggly fitted on his ring finger. “We’re promised to each other.”
Sunghoon whispers, grazing your upper lip. “That means waiting until marriage.”
“You cheated!” You hiss, shoving his stomach. “You made me cheat with you!”
“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” He says in a mean-spirited tone, flicking your chin. “Besides, you think I’d ever treat my future wife like some slut?”
“Fuck you.”
“Soon.” He nods, inching in to lay a soft kiss on your Cupid’s bow. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Whatever this thing is you have going on with my brother, cut it out.”
“There’s nothing going on between us.” You shove, digging your palms against his stomach. “He’s nice, unlike you.”
“Yeah. He’s a real good liar.” Sunghoon grits, easing off you. “I have to get back to dinner, disappointed you won’t be joining us.” 
“Sure you are.” He reaches for your neck again, large palm engulfing most of it. 
“Really wanted to see you try to cover up your guilt.” His tongue clicks, tilting his head to the side to smile. “The look on your face when my dad introduced you,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth, dimpled cheeks sinking in. “It was priceless.”
“Get away from me.” You try to push again, digging your nails into his waist. 
“You thought..” he strokes down your cheek, forehead resting against yours. “That I like you, right? Already dreaming of your step-brother turning into your boyfriend?” He hums, pinching your cheek. “Cute.”
“Sunghoon! What’s taking so long!” Your mother calls from downstairs, halting your next snide remark. 
“One second!” Rolling his eyes, he turns back to you, thumb smoothing under your eye. “Take what I say seriously.” He sighs, pecking your chin and bottom lip. “Don’t piss me off.” With a fake smile and lit up eyes he lays one more kiss atop your mouth, pulling away enough for his words to trace across your lips. “Because I’ll find out, and whatever you think you’ll get away with here— you won’t.” 
Straightening out, he winks, patting your cheek and laughing when you look away with a clenched jaw. “Asshole.” You mutter, quickly pulling out an oversized old t-shirt and shorts to throw on. Having made Heeseung wait long enough, and now even more annoyed than before you forgo the idea of picking out something cute.
It’s just your step-brother anyway, he’s seen you look worse.
Running out of the house before your parents can try bother you with a lecture do’s and don'ts you apologize, hopping into the passenger seat short of breath.
“Sorry sorry, my mom,” you wave, giving your mind a second to conjure up a lie. “You know, doing her mom thing.”
Heeseung smiles, nodding to your seatbelt and backing out of the driveway. “Don’t think we’ll have time to grab a bite before the opener, if that’s okay with you?”
Ignoring the rumble in your stomach, you nod and shoot him a thumbs up. “It’s fine, seriously thank you for getting me out of there.”
Taking in a deep breath you start to settle, watching the road and listening to the soft tune of what you recognize as Deftones latest release, stealing a glance at Heeseung’s phone to confirm. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?” His lips pout, drumming along to the beat as you enter a freeway.
“When you invited me to come with you tonight..” Heeseung clears his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
“Did you know?” Chewing your lip nervously, you sit up straight to watch his side and the blush rise from his neck to the middle of his face. “About.. her?”
“I’ve known about Miyeon for years.” He says, focused on the road. “I knew she was in town too.”
“Did Sunghoon ask you to keep me distracted?”
He blinks surprised, eyes going wide. “Sunghoon doesn’t speak to me unless he has no other choice.” He says flatly, gripping at the steering wheel tightly, losing interest in the change of song. “I invited you because..”
“You saw what happened the other day?” You ask, turning away remembering the awkward silence you shared with your step-brother after your tutoring session.
“Well no.” He trails off for a moment, letting out a long winded sigh. “I know how my brother is. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together..”
“Are you going to tell our parents?”
Heeseung shakes his head out of the corner of your eye, seemingly flabbergasted you’d even ask that. “I’d never do that. I really mostly invited you hoping to.. yeah, completely avoid this from happening.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not too good at this, whatever this is.”
“No no it’s okay.” You try to emphasize it’s not a big deal, even if the invisible weight crushing your chest says otherwise. “I really appreciate that you thought of doing this for me. I’m excited! This is way better than sitting around eating my mom’s terrible cooking and listening to your dad rant about how amazing Sunghoon is for the hundredth time.”
Heeseung grins, loosening back up, fingers returning to tap along with the music. “He does tend to do that.”
As much as you can’t fight off your thoughts from racing back to Sunghoon, you keep up conversation with your step-brother, both doing your best to avoid bringing him up again. Heeseung made the effort to get you away from a possibly ugly situation, the least you can do is at least try to have fun. Sunghoon will have to be dealt with later.
“Lines not too bad.” Heeseung parks, directing his chin to the front of the venue. “We can probably get barricade.”
“Cool.” You shrug, not wanting to give off how clueless you are about concert culture as you make your way to the line of fans noticing many seem paired off, couples mostly.
Standing by your step-brother lamely attempting to come up with a topic to talk about, you bump into his side to relieve some tension. “I’m seriously so excited.”
Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, soft and large as he takes in your face up close and nods. He contemplates a reply, sorting from ‘I’m happy to hear that.’ and ‘that’s good, I’m glad.’ Before looking away and muttering.
“Should be a lot of fun.”
When Heeseung had mentioned getting a spot on the barricade you hadn’t realized he meant being front row, as you passed the ticket check and made your way inside he pointed out an empty spot the two of you could squeeze into, albeit a bit tight you managed to get in together and celebrate. “I can’t believe we’re in front!” You squeal, hopping up and down slightly.
“We really lucked out.” He glances around, wishing he’d at least had enough time to hit up the bar for drinks before the opener. Usually Jake could handle holding down a spot for them but given your naivety he opts to stay by your side. “I know you haven’t been to any concerts before but just a heads up, the crowd can get a little rough.”
“Oh, a lot of pushing?”
“Yeah.” Heeseung notices you’re surrounded by mostly larger men, a few girls sprinkled around here and there. At least the audience had a good mixture of both in comparison to the usual show. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, let me know okay?”
“Ah, I don’t want you to worry about me.” You say, anxiously fixing your hair, only now realizing just how crammed in and close you are to everyone. The warmth building against your back grows suffocating as minutes go by. “I’ll be fine Hee.” 
Heeseung’s cheeks warm up, blaming it on the crowd filling out and getting heavier around him; not the shortened nickname that you’ve never used with him before. The opener finishes setting up, riling everyone up with their introduction and fast paced music. True to your step-brother’s warning, the pushing shocks you initially, throttled forward to be stuck against the top of the barricade railing. You smile through the sting of pain hitting the top of your ribcage, mentally noting to check for bruises later.
“Definitely need to check them out after that.” Heeseung swipes his phone open, tapping to follow the band. Showing no signs of discomfort he turns to you, smile falling. “You good?”
“Yeah yeah, uhm Deftones go on next?”
He shakes his head, full on frowning and snaking his arm around your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t feel good up here, we can move to the back.”
“No!” Draping your hands flat on the barrier, you push up to straighten your spine, cringing at how it aches already. “I want to watch from up here.”
Heeseung’s mouth shifts to one side in thought, eyeing the area around you before bracketing his arms on the barrier. “Get in front of me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ll stop the shoving.”
“But you’ll get pushed..” you hesitate, hearing snickers from a group of guys behind you.
“I’ll be fine,” Heeseung motions, encouraging you to move in front of him. Easing into the space he created for you, a sense of relief washes over you, taking in short breaths of air without 3 bodies crushed against you. 
He taps the top of your head with his chin, leaning to the side of your face with a smile. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks Hee..” you offer an embarrassed smile, already feeling ashamed that your step-brother did all this to end your humiliation in the first place.
Heeseung does his best to ignore the bickering and scoffs around him, especially the group behind whispering about how the two of you should move to the back. ‘It’s not our problem that your girlfriend can’t hang.’
His neck prickles with sweat, ears perked up listening to the rest of their conversation. ‘Pretty prissy girls like that have no business up front anyway. Dude needs to leave his little girlfriend at home next time.’
Biting down on the backs of his teeth he has to stop himself from twisting around to yell that you’re not his girlfriend, saved by the next band that starts up; he relaxes and keeps the crowd away from you; accepting the brunt of the pain himself.
This is something a guy would do for his step-sister too, right? Why assume you’re his girlfriend, you could easily just be a friend..
Everything’s mostly smooth from there until Deftones attack the stage and guitar riffs blast through the speakers, swaying the crowd unanimously to follow along with the beat. He curses, clenching his fist on the barrier to keep you from following the force of eager bodies.
“Hee, are you okay?!” You ask in a panic, placing your hands over his fist. He nods fast, biting on his tongue as your fingers loop between his to hold him closer to you. His slow reaction allows enough space for another body to squeeze its way through the front, plastering his chest to your back with a gasp from the extra lack of space.
“I’m good! I’m good!” He says, trying to keep his cool with a smile and focus on the show that you’ve been waiting for. “It’s your favorite song!”
Heeseung nods ahead, too worried about keeping you safe to even take in that you’re fully crushed under him, the barrier digging into your chest. Trying his best to enjoy the show he shakes his head and sings along with the words he can remember, breath caught when your head lays back on his chest and you smile up at him.
“I love this song!” 
This isn’t Heeseung’s favorite song, but he remembered that it’s yours, and right as you pull your conjoined hands to lay against your stomach; this song sounds better than ever. 
“I love it too.”
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“That was soooo much fun!” 
The two of you managed to squeeze through the crowd fast, your step-brother mentioning wanting to check out the merch before you head out. “I’m sooo sweaty.” you say, shaking off your shirt.
Heeseung looks over the tour shirts hung up, digging out the money his dad gave him. “Want one? We have enough.”
“Oh yeah, that one's really cute!”
“We’ll take two of those.” Heeseung points at the t-shirt, counting enough cash out for both.
“Matching couple tour shirts.” The merch guy says with a laugh. “So cute how many of you think of concerts as date nights.”
“What?” He says with a gulp, peeking from the corner of his eye at your surprised reaction. “We’re no—“
“That’ll be $50, knocked off $10 for the good looking pair.” He winks, passing you the shirts. “Now make this guy go buy you something to eat honey, and whatever you do after, it’s none of my business.”
“Uhh..”
“T-Thanks.” Heeseung stammers, hooking your elbow to drag you out of the crowd toward the exit. The air suddenly a lot tighter and harder to breathe in.
“That was weird, right?” You ask, following him to the car. “Well,” you pause, eyeing him over. “I guess we don’t look alike at all.” 
“People don’t assume the opposite sex can be just friends anymore I guess.” He scoffs, opening the passenger door for you. “He was right about one thing though, you hungry?”
“Starving.” You reply, tossing your bag onto the seat. “But first.”
Heeseung’s eyebrows lift, taking a step back as you begin to remove your shirt, mouth hung open confused. “What are you doing??”
“Told you, I’m drenched.” You say, fanning your chest. “I’d take off my bra too..” you shyly smile, shaking open the new shirt your step-brother just paid for. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
Tugging on the shirt, you reach around beneath to pull off your bra straps, struggling to unclasp the back. “Sorry Hee, can you help?” 
He swallows, eyes gone wide and nodding. “Uh, yeah sure..”
Heeseung moves behind you, pushing the shirt up to your shoulder blades and biting down on his tongue to not comment on how soft your skin feels. No. That’d be weird, right?
“I think the clasp is stuck..” he mumbles, nervously toying with one of the bra clasps that won’t unlatch.
“Ugh, fuck.” You sigh, swatting the air behind you. “Just rip it off.”
Heeseung tightens his lip, air pushing out of his nose to not groan. “Okay.”
He pulls the connected material apart, the sound of seams snapping and popping open under his strength following.
“Jesus, get a room man.” A drunk concert goer slurs out as he passes by, your bra coming undone finally right as your step-brother curses and presses in close to hide your exposed lower back. 
“Fuck off.”
“You know what? He has a point.” You laugh, shaking the t-shirt down your torso. “My step-brother removing my bra for me should probably be done behind closed doors..”
Heeseung can feel his chest rumble from your laughter, shoulders and upper back shaking against him. Instinctively taking a step back before vibration can travel lower as he imagines exactly that.
“Pizza sounds good.” He changes the subject fast, moving to get inside and get the engine warmed up. “You down?”
“Pizza sounds great.”
The two of you fall into easy conversation, excitedly discussing your favorite songs and parts of the concert. Easily finding a place open for 24 hours on the way home, albeit the slices of pizza more stiff and cardboard-like at this late hour with only one employee working the night shift.
“I hope it wasn’t too hard on you, having to watch out for me.” You say apologetically. 
“Wasn’t a big deal, seriously, don’t mention it.”
“I felt really bad though.” You lament, helping him by carrying the box of pizza. “You still got to enjoy the show, right?”
“Are you serious?” Heeseung waves you off, reaching for the passenger door again before you can open it yourself. “Best concert I’ve ever been to.”
“Right?!?” You joke, settling back into your seat with a laugh. “I say as if I’ve ever been to any others, but I have a feeling this will be one of my favorites.”
“I’ll take you to more concerts.” Heeseung hums, tapping the steering wheel before taking off. “Do you wanna go home right now? Or like..”
“Nah, mom will kill my dopamine high if I have to talk to her right now.”
“You’re right.” Snapping his fingers, he mentions the time. “There’s a park not too far from home, it’s empty by now. We can go there to eat and rush home fast if our parents get mad about the hour.”
“Sounds good.”
The parks nice and quiet, a few street lamps barely lighting up the small area where you settle at the top of the jungle gym and sit facing the street with your legs dangling from the top level of the structure.
“Pizzas not that great.” Heeseung laughs, shrugging, stuffing his mouth regardless.
“It’s perfect for a midnight snack.”
Agreeing, you fall into a comfortable silence, attempting to hide your shiver as a chilly breeze passes through. It’s too nice to head home now, unwilling to unless your phone starts to buzz with your mother shouting on the other end.
“Cold?” Heeseung removes his hoodie before you answer, leaning over to lay it down on your shoulders.
“Now you’ll be cold.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He nods, looking away to admire the speckles of stars scattered between smog and clouds. Heeseung’s really nothing like his brother. No, because Sunghoon wouldn’t wish to spend time with you in this way, unless it involved his dick in your mouth or wherever..
“Hee, can I ask you something?”
Turning to face you, his lips tremble a bit from the rising crisp night air, raising goosebumps along his arms. “What’s up?”
“This is probably..” you hesitate, pulling his hoodie in tighter to your chest. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to..” The skin between his eyebrows folds together, head bobbing up and down for you to continue.
“It’s just, Sunghoon..”
Heeseung sighs, leaning back on his palms and dropping his head back. “I don’t know what he thinks about you, he doesn’t talk to me.” He says calmly before you can finish, laying back down flat with his eyes shut. “Sorry, can’t help.”
“It’s not that—well I mean..” you lower, laying on your side to watch his eyelashes twitch against the tops of his cheeks. “You guys really don’t talk and I guess I’m nosey..”
“Oh.” Heeseung blinks, eyes going wide at the realization of how close you are. “You mean like why we don’t talk?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs, nibbling his bottom lip from side to side nervously. “We used to be really close, inseparable until our parents got divorced.” His eyebrows furrow, smoothing his palms together onto his stomach. “Hoon lived with our mom for a few years, he was always her favorite.”
Regret begins to seep through your chest, feeling like an asshole for even asking now. Of course their rift had to be more personal than some petty feud between brothers..
“We were still somewhat close during that time, but much like now, dad favored Hoonie too. He’s the baby, you know how it is. He needed more attention and coddling I guess.” Heeseung shrugs again, mostly to keep the topic light. “When we were kids he really looked up to me.. at least I always thought so.”
His breath deepens, releasing longer exhales and shutting his eyes again. “Mom got sick, really sick..”
“I’m sorry Heeseung, you don’t have to tell me..” 
“It’s okay.” Tucking in his upper lip, his eyes squeeze tightly, taking deep breaths before continuing. “I kind of dealt with her illness.. maybe improperly? I don’t know, I was a kid..”
“I’m sorry..”
“Hoonie..” his eyes stay shut, squeezing together at the mention of his brother. “When she passed away, I think he really needed me. I couldn’t be there for him.”
Silence thickens between the two of you, laying back down fully by his side in hopes of offering some type of comfort, a silent one of upper arms flushed together.
“I sort of lashed out..” Heeseung goes on, voice more strangled. “I blocked him out when he needed me the most and when the time came that I needed him,” he shrugs softly, huffing. “He wasn’t there for me anymore. I can’t blame him.”
Anything you can think of to say evades your mind, coming up blank with words that would be enough to show your sympathy. Without much thought other than how nice your step-brothers been, you reach for his hand and loop your fingers between his; bringing them down between your sides with a squeeze.
“He looked up to me when we were younger.” Heeseung at least sounds less tense, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxing. “It didn’t really help that he was getting bullied at school too back then. He was a runt, small thing.” There’s an evident smile in his tone now, small enough to barely lift the corner of his mouth.
“I should have stepped in and defended him but..” he grips your hand tightly, thumb brushing back and forth. “Don’t think I regret anything more than those years.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“In some ways.” Heeseung clears his throat, lips pouting. “The least I could have done was take care of him, he’s my baby brother after all..”
“Nothing could have prepared any of you for what happened. Someday he’ll understand that..”
Heeseung wishes he could agree, but while his mourning period led to sadness and a crushed sense of hope, his brothers landed him in darkness. A cold bitter darkness, gradually day by day stripping away the last specks of light that once made up all of Sunghoon. 
“Yeah.” He lets out a tired sigh, head shaking and forcing a smile. “I’m sure someday we’ll live our own lives and he’ll see me as his trustworthy older brother again.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” 
“Haven’t talked about this in such a long time honestly.” He smiles, lifting your hands to rest on his stomach again. “Dad would be shocked by how much we’re getting along right now.”
“It’s weird, right?” You laugh meekly, eyes drifting to your conjoined hands. “That you’re like…” drifting off, your nose crinkles; recalling your friends joking about which of your step-brothers you’d be hooking up with first. “My brother.”
Heeseung’s eyes open up, stomach folding in from shooting up, letting out a hollered laugh. “Oh that was really weird, especially after having to hear that you’re my girlfriend from random strangers for the past 3 hours.”
He sits back up, easing his hold out of yours to smooth a palm down his nape out of nervous habit. 
“I can understand them.” You sit up with him, grabbing onto one of the steel bars to lean in closer to him. “We don’t make a bad looking couple.”
Heeseung’s thankful for the lack of lighting as heat rushes up his neck and burns its way under his eyes, cheeks more than likely bright pink full of blood. “Ah—well, good thing I’m not your type.”
“What?”
“You like Sunghoon.” He says nonchalantly. “Everyone likes him, he’s my brother so like—no I don’t get it.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I see the way everyone fawns over him though, pretty used to it by now.”
“I don’t like Sunghoon.” You grumble. That’s a lie, possibly, or maybe a conversation you’re not ready to have with yourself, let alone your step-brother. “And honestly, you’re way more my type than him.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious!” You shriek, reaching for his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re freezing!”
“It’s not that bad, feels good after being stuck together in that pit.”
“Come here,” scooting closer to him, you pull him into your chest, arm wrapping around his back to draw him into your warmth. “Can’t have you getting sick on me, we have concerts to go to now.”
Heeseung blinks furiously, tucking his chin in to ignore the rapid pace his heart gains, beating against his chest fiercely enough to fear that even you can feel it. “You’re right.” He keeps it short, lips trembling more due to his nerves than the temperature.
“This feels nice.” 
He nods, shifting slightly to rest his arm around your lower back and make the position you’ve ended up in more comfortable. “We should probably head home though, before your mom realizes you’re not safely tucked in bed.”
“I don’t know Hee.” You murmur, digging your nose into his now dried head of hair, a tangy scent of sweat and shampoo left behind. “I don’t want this night to end.” Or to have to see your brother again, let alone deal with whatever that was all about earlier..
Heeseung shivers against your chest, more from his excitement, but accepts the coo you let out and soothing rub down his spine. “Okay okay, don’t want you to catch hypothermia. You’re right, it’s getting late.”
“Sorry,” maintaining eye contact with his lap, he removes himself from your hold, taking deep breaths to ward off his thoughts. 
She’s your sister. She’s your sister. She’s your sister.
Step-sister.
“Before we go, I really do want to say thanks for everything.” You say, completely unaware of the mental war your step-brothers battling with. “From getting me out of the house, the concert, this cute shirt.” You lean back, pulling at the hem, only pronouncing your breast more through the material; not allowing him much of a choice but to look and notice how hard and obviously perked your nipples poke through. Right.. your bras currently residing in the backseat of the car..
“The pizza, bringing me here.” You list out everything, sporting a giant smile. “I seriously haven’t felt this happy in awhile. I kind of.. really needed this before losing my mind.”
Heeseung returns the smile, sharing your sentiment silently. “I’ll do my best from now on to make this a part of our routine.”
“It’s really a shame.”
“Hmm? What is?”
“That our parents ended up together.” You mumble, scanning his face anxiously. “You’re better than—I don’t know.. kind of lame to admit but I tried to picture different scenarios in which we’d somehow get to know each other.” You struggle to say, sucking air between your teeth. “Ah, I guess I kind of had a crush on you? Not really? But kind—“
Heeseung’s thighs bounce against the jungle gym, resisting the urge to lunge at you and smother you in kisses. The need grows harder and harder the more you go on and demurely shift around to avoid his gaze. It’s the whiny pout you fall into while saying you may or may not have had a crush on your step-brother that sets him off; pushing his upper half toward you and dropping the weight of his mouth upon yours with heated urgency.
It’s harder and sloppier than he intends for, swatting away every thought and emotion that could fully develop since the day you stepped inside of his bedroom with a curious glint in your eye. Beyond physical attraction, Heeseung can’t stop the annoying itch in his chest, the one warming him up from inside out everytime you’ve looked at him tonight. His nose crushes into the side of yours, the seam of his lips engulfing more of your top lip than managing to act out an actual kiss.
Drawing away with flushed cheeks, he licks his lips and begins spewing out an apology, shaking his head embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m—“
The back of his head bounces against the metal walls behind him, hissing against your lips shoving into his. Mouth more commanding than his as you scramble to invade his space and drop your bottom onto his lap. 
“Sorr—“
“Shh, kiss me back, kiss me.” Between rushed bated breath and a messy lock of lips, you rock further into him, reaching for the holes scattered around the jungle gym walls to bury your fingers in and cage his head between your arms.
Heeseung’s hands flail for a minute, slapping down on your hips to grab onto something with a groan as your tongue probes between the line of his lips for access. The wet slip of your tongue glides through easily, making him gasp inside of your mouth as you wiggle a way through to taste the spit gathered at the sides of his tongue.
“Woah,” he draws back, lips already swollen from the short kiss. “What—we can’t!”
“Why?” Your eyebrows lift, concerned but dropping your bottom onto his lap hungry for more. “You don’t feel it??”
“What?!” Heeseung sits up, belting your waist to keep you in place, regrettably as you swivel in place right against his groin. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you like me?” You say pathetically, nearly ready to give up the more humiliating this becomes.
“Of course I do!” He laments, massaging up your sides. “I think I like you way more than I’m supposed to.”
“Hee, you’re not my brother.” You state, tucking his cold hands inside of your shirt to warm up against your stomach. “There’s nothing wrong about us kissing.”
Heeseung swallows, telling himself- well that’s simply not true. Other than that fact alone that you are… sleeping with his younger brother. 
“It’s late.” Heeseung sighs, pretending to yawn. “Let me take you home and we can talk about this after a good night's rest.”
“You can’t be serious.” Half offended and with a last stitch of effort you grab onto his hands, pushing them up your stomach, brushing along the underside of your breasts. “I know you feel it.”
Heeseung gulps, head dropping back against the jungle gym with a groan. “Yeah I.. I feel that..”
“It’s okay Hee, I want you.” Leaning in, you capture his mouth once more, sucking in his bottom lip as your hands encourage him to squeeze your chest. 
As hesitant as he feels, Heeseung can’t stop himself from squeezing your breasts, eyes fluttering shut as his length throbs inside of his boxers. “I want you too, you have no idea how bad I want this..”
“Let me see,” you say between kisses, rubbing your tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Show me, do anything you want with me.”
Heeseung’s stomach sinks, unable to stop his mind from drifting to the rough sounds he heard coming from his brother’s bedroom. What if you’re expecting him to be like Sunghoon..
“Please, let me take you home at least. I promise..” he breathes between your lips, softly layering kisses. “I’ll show you.”
“Ugh, fine.” Reluctantly you agree, it is cold out here after all and anyone could walk by, not that you’d mind the idea of getting caught..
Heeseung struggles to tear away from your mouth on the way back to the car, spending another extra 5 minutes with you pressed up to the door and his hands roaming freely under your shirt again. “If you don’t drive me home right now I am going to take off my clothes right here.”
“Okay okay.” He chuckles, running around after getting you inside and clicking your seatbelt. Heeseung mentally pats himself on the back for choosing a park not far from home, especially when you pull his right arm away from the steering wheel to guide him between your thighs.
“I’m so wet for you Hee.”
Practically crashing as he turns into your neighborhood, he coughs, squeezing your inner thigh and speedily parking to get out as fast as he can. “My room.”
Heeseung wraps your arms around his waist, a soft smile spreading across his lips as you both struggle to get up the stairs with your limbs locked around each other. “Your room because you wanna play DJ?”
He blushes, turning the doorknob behind his back and draw you into his bedroom. 
“That obvious?”
“You’re really cute.” You confess, bunching the sides of his shirt up in your fists to keep your bodies close. “Like really really cute.”
Heeseung’s cheeks could alert the fire department, burning up his face hot enough to make his eyes water up. “Ah, you think I’m lame.”
“I think you’re..” the two of you shuffle toward his bed, slowly lifting his top up to his waist. “Sexy..” 
He pulls it off the rest of the way for you, tossing the shirt aside, feeling shy even in the dim lighting entering from the window; breath caught in his throat as you duck to lick his chest, lips trapping one of his nipples with a gentle suck. Fingernails trail down his abdomen, grabbing onto the waistband of his jeans.
“No no..” taking a hold of your hands as you start to unzip him, he stammers taking in your mouth falling to a frown. “No! I mean, feels really good, but..”
Heeseung squeezes your hips, lifting you off your feet for less than a second to set you down on his bed. “Let me show you.”
Running a hand through his hair, he blushes furiously, positive you can feel the heat radiating off his face. He makes fast to the record player, dropping the needle in place to start the album he’d been listening to earlier, your favorite one.
Bending over your body, he bites down on his lips, softly pushing your shirt up your torso as the gentle hum of music reverberates around you.
Don’t wanna take it slow, I wanna take you home and watch the world explode from underneath your glow
Heeseung leaves your shirt just beneath your breasts, hovering over you to kiss along the top of your ribcage, following a path downward to your navel until his mouth meets the button of your shorts. The slow rise and fall of your chest calms his worry, unbuttoning you and easing your bottoms down to your ankles for you to kick away. He shifts down to his knees, prying your thighs open gently, allowing him a perfect view of your drenched through panties completely molded to your core.
“You’re sexy.” Perfect even, Heeseungs says to himself, planting kisses up the sensitive skin lining your inner thigh. “Cute, pretty, hot.” Kissing his way up, he takes extra time to suck on the tender skin where your thigh meets your center. “So so so sexy..”
A low whine sounds above him, your back arching upward the more he teases, tracing the dip between your center and shoving the material of your underwear into your entrance. “Hee!” 
“Shhh…” he licks the dip, tongue stiffening to push your underwear between your slit, tracing up to your clit to suck on through the soaked ruined fabric. Heeseung can’t take it anymore, innate hunger winning against his willpower as he holds your thighs open, planting them to spread out on his bed and drag his nose between the seam taking in a deep inhale. Slurping up the mess of wetness that seeps through the material of your underwear, most of it hitting his chin, trickling down onto the bed.
The groan vibrating against your core has your hips lifting, seeking a way to close your legs out of embarrassment that he could be smelling everything. “Hee, thats—“
Greedily sucking the rest of the wetness that’s smeared along the insides of your thighs, he has to shove aside how hard and painful his cock throbs. That can come later, figuratively and literally.
Playing with the trim lining the waistband of your underwear, he rubs the fabric between his fingers before rolling it down past your knees with practiced finesse; quickly clutching your thighs in a firm grip before you can manage to shut them, he pushes them down as wide as they’ll spread, fully exposing your core. 
Heeseung’s breath catches, nearly groaning at the up close visual of your swollen aroused cunt, dripping a lewd amount out all the way down to his bedding. “So pretty.” He blows, sending a tremor up your thighs. “Just as pretty down here as you are everywhere else.”
Leaning in before you can let out another shattered cry, he licks a thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Humming in the back of his throat as your arousal pours down to the back of his tongue. Velvety engorged folds spread out against the pressure of his wide tongue working back and forth to touch each crevice between your legs.
Heeseung can hear your breath quicken and grow louder, plunging into your pulsating wet hole with his nose rubbing against your clit. He groans, dizzy, drunk and brainless as he rubs his face back and forth. Lapping past the resistance of your muscle, he licks and sucks, collecting the wetness pouring from your dripping pussy to swallow down like water. The fingers reaching into his hair pull him to bury in deep, jaw stretching until he hears a crack. He grunts from the pulls on his scalp, slipping free from your cunt to lick up the sides, between your folds, outside and in until his tongue has tasted every inch. 
“Oh my God Hee!” Your feet kick, just barely under his unrelenting hold to keep you spread open. Dragging his tongue up and down repeatedly until a mess of slick covers him from chin to forehead. “S’too—too much, ah—“
His lips press to your clit, sucking the fat nub between his lips with extra force that has you biting down on your hand to not scream. “You’re—no, I’ll—I’ll cum!” Whining, you grow more impatient, unable to stop your hips from twitching up even under his large palms pressing you down. Heeseung could care less, 
lost in the scent and heat of your cunt, he sucks and licks your clit mercilessly, flicking the bud roughly with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh!” Your face squeezes tight, head pushing off from the bed, arching against his mouth giving you no rest. “I’m cumming—I’m cumming!” You chant, mouth hanging open without breathing as an intense orgasm rips through your body, choking on your breath and finally writhing free from Heeseung’s hold when he doesn’t stop; lapping at your freshly spilled entrance like a thirsty dog.
“E-enough.” You tremble, shutting your thighs and turning onto your side, shirt drifting up under your neck and armpits leaving you mostly bare.
Heeseung sits up on the bed, kissing up the side of your thigh to your hip. “Wouldn’t have stopped, you taste so good.”
Now it’s your turn to hide, tucking your face into one of his pillows with a whine. “Ahh, don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” The clink of his zipper lowering follows, turning back around to lay flat and remove your shirt just in time to see Heeseung kick away his pants and boxers, cock standing hard against his stomach; high enough for the head to hit his navel.
He’s big too. 
Biting your lip, you sit up to kiss him, making a face at the amount of slick still coating his chin. Heeseung had no plan to clean any of it off. 
He stares at you wide-eyed and breathless, leaning over you until you lay flat on your back again, brushing hair away from your face. Going in for the kiss first this time, he opens your mouth up with an aggressive push of his tongue; licking inside of your mouth similar to the way he ate you out, messy, greedily drinking the spit that escapes past your lips. More swollen and bitten raw once he settles against your chest and scoops the back of your thighs around his hips.
Leaving your knees bent to cage around him, Heeseung smooths a palm down between your breasts, down past your stomach to grab a hold around his length. He bites down, already covered in your arousal in less than a minute of your lower halves touching. “So wet.” Mumbling to himself, he delivers a few strokes to his length, spreading your slick down to the tip, not that you need the extra lubrication.
Heeseung’s hand trembles around the base of his cock, a reminder of how nervous he actually is as he drags the tip between your folds, dipping in and out of your entrance just enough to have your head spinning. Pawing at his chest to give you more as he teases and groans at how loud the sound of your wetness radiates; pushed in and out against the kisses meeting his cockhead.
“Hee, please, please fuck me.” You say, feeling delirious with each empty deceived clench from your body, chasing after the stretch only his cock can give you.
Finally pushing in past the tip, his chest lays flat against yours, stealing the gasped moan you let out with a fierce kiss. Burying in deeper until he meets obstruction and lets a broken cry inside of your warm wet mouth. 
“F-fuck me baby,” you moan, sucking his bottom lip in with hard bite. “Show me, show me.”
Heeseung’s forehead wrinkles, biting down and grinding his teeth to not whimper between short staggered breaths. He won’t last if he fucks you the way he really wants to. The way he needs to.
Nodding rapidly, he tries to memorize every squeeze that your soft wet wall's pulse around him. Wet, so insanely wet, pouring down to his balls, forming a mess between even his thighs. Heeseung lifts back with heavy eyes to watch your face fall apart, tongue lolled out with nothing behind your eyes but unruly lust. “Fuck me.”
He lets go, rolling his hips forward as hard and deep as you can take him.
“Oh fuckkk!” Heeseung gasps as you arch against him, slapping his chest with balled up fists. It’s better than either of you could have imagined, chasing a fast release off instinct alone while still holding back to make each sensation last longer.
“You’re so tight,” Heeseung says with a linger of pain in his tone. Taking a hold of your wrists, he pins them to your chest, gently shushing your cries. Slowly dragging his cock out halfway and back in to ease the stretch. “You okay?”
A choked moan passes through your lips, nodding fast. “S-so big.”
Kissing your chin, Heeseung nods and loosens his hold on your wrist, easing your hands to lay flat by your head. “Relax for me,” taking a deep breath, he pushes in to the hilt, lower back aching the more he holds himself back from fucking you in earnest and pounding you through his bed. “Can you do that for me?”
A faint ‘yes’ shudders out, losing your breath as he starts to drag his dick out, hissing with each reflexive clench you give him. Heeseung tries, he really tries to hold back, pushing through your heated resistance slowly, but with each glide back in a mess of slick wetness drips out past the intrusion of his size. The smear of wetness leaking down to his thighs in fat wads now, coating the back of your ass and thighs, making each collision of your meeting skin more debauched. 
Another squeeze around him has a broken cry ripping from his throat, moistening the backs of his eyes as he finally breaks and snaps forward to bury in balls deep, making you feel every inch. Heeseung rides through your clamped heat, thrusts turning erratic with his digits finding purchase in your wrist; painfully digging his nails into the soft skin hard enough to leave behind marks of crescent moons.
Rapid tightening pressure around his cock draws more effort on his part, planting his knees on the bed to fuck you with more strength behind his hips. Through the wet layer fogging his gaze he finds your eyes, blown wide with your mouth hung open pouring saliva from the corners. His heart jumps fiercely enough to make him fear it could erupt, ears gone numb to all other than the wanton sounds of your whimpers traced between the song playing.
No one else has a hold over me like you do
You open up the covers, you lure me in
Tackle me anxious, back into bed
Well, I hope to discover all of your ways
This place is death, I know you feel the same
He can’t stop the embarrassingly desperate noises that drip from his mouth as he fucks you with renewed urgency, pressing down until you are chest to chest to snake his hands under your ass and push your hips against his. The new angle gets him in even deeper somehow, nose scrunched up as a strong wave of heat runs rampant in his stomach, tightening up the heavy weight between his thighs. “C-close—I’m so so c-close.”
Struggling to keep up his thrusts the more you tighten up, Heeseung shifts, smoothing down the side of your thigh to wrap around the back of your knee and push your thigh up. The mind-numbing pleasured cry you let out has him fucking into you with abandon, desperate to get you off before he can finish. 
“Come on,” he grits, fingers digging into your leg, calve jostling by your head under the force of his weight pummeling against you. “C’mon baby.” He hits deep, the head of his length kissing your cervix, grinding with a low growling moan.
“P-plea—“ breaking off, your neck bends back, eyes meeting the back of your skull letting a silent cry fly free. Heeseung tries to fuck you through it, beginning to sweat down his face as he grips onto your leg harder and rams forward. 
“Fuckmefuckme,” you babble deliriously between whimpers, tears spilling down your cheeks. “W-want it, cum inside me, f-fuck—want it, want it!” You moan, half pained by over sensitivity the longer he goes, reaching to run your fingers through his hair in search of something to pull on.
Heeseung grunts, leaning in to lick the droplets of salty tears dangling from your chin, gone senseless beyond the addictive warmth sucked around his cock. “I-I’m—fuck!”
A handful of sloppy thrusts more has his balls clenching up, so heavy where they slap and land against the crevice of your ass. He curses, burying himself as deep as your body can take to spill inside. Cock thrumming madly with each shot of hot streaks of cum pouring out. “C-cumming” he gasps, mouth gone dry with spit covering his chin, slumping down onto you with a long sigh.
“Hee..” you cough, leg dropping from his weakened hold. “Can’t breathe.”
“Sorry sorry..” Heeseung bites his lip, pushing his upper half up on numbed arms, slowly drawing his hips back. “Ugh..” he has to look away as white creamy release chases after his length, cock throbbing from the sight of your needy hole gaping open and shut. “Sorry for that..”
“It’s okay.”
He reaches for your shirt before settling back next to you, eyes heavy with sleep and cheeks bunched up from a lazy smile.
“I should probably go to my room before my mom wakes up.” You say sadly, dragging a finger down his lips. “Don’t want to.”
“Don’t want you to.” Heeseung kisses, chasing after your finger with an open mouth. “We can just tell her the truth, that you slept in here.”
“The whole truth?”
“Well, no..” he says, capturing the tip of your finger to suck around, slowly sliding off with a wet pop. “She’d probably never let you out of the house again if she found out about..”
“Yeah..” you share a look, sighing sadly. “Try not to dream of me too much, lover boy.”
Stepping back into your underwear with a grimace, you throw your shorts into his hamper, winking at him and ordering that he wash them for you before you exit.
Heeseung can feel his cheeks itch with heat again, covering his eyes with a smile. How can he still feel shy after all of that..
“Goodnight.”
“Nighty.” You say, cheeks aching from smiling so much. 
“Well well well.” Sunghoon stands across the hallway as you do your best to quietly tiptoe your way out of Heeseung’s bedroom, jumping up and covering your mouth to not scream at his shadowy figure looming nearby. “What do we have here?”
“Hoon?” You say after a night of listening to Heeseung use the nickname over and over again. “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 3am.”
“I should ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing sneaking out of my brother's bedroom in the middle of the night, huh?” Sunghoon steps into the small streak of light coming through the hallway window, jaw flexed tight. “I told you that I’d find out.”
“What? By standing out here with your ear pressed against the door like some creep? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“Don’t change the subject.” Sunghoon corners you, pushing your shoulders against the wall. “And keep your voice down, you’re lucky our parents room is on the other side of the house with those dying animal squeals you were screaming out.”
“You’re such a dick.”
“Anyway,” he traces down the side of your face, flinching away from his touch only for his hand to cup around your jaw and keep your eyes on him. “No more of this, I’ll let it go just this one time because you’re pretty dumb.”
“I don’t need to listen to anything you say.”
“Oh, but you do, don’t you?” He speaks softly, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “And you will.”
“Why? Because you’ll run and tell my mommy that you made me suck your dick for some test answers?” You sneer, slapping your palm on his forearm. 
“I’m giving you a warning.” Sunghoon pecks your upper lip and Cupid’s bow, leaving out any mention of why. Not because he likes you or anything, not Park Sunghoon. “Take it seriously or don’t. Either way you’ll learn to listen to me.”
Pressing a firm kiss to your lips, he lingers, pecking the top and bottom over and over again. “Hate to think you let him defile that pretty mouth, almost repulses me to kiss you right now.”
Sunghoon backs up, raising an eyebrow and grabbing onto your elbows. “Let’s get you washed up before you go to sleep at least, you smell like cum.”
“Hoon, stop!” You whisper, panicked as he leads you to his bedroom. “Where are you taking me!”
Sunghoon kicks his bedroom door open, maneuvering you to his personal bathroom. “You can’t be this stupid.”
“Let me go!” 
“Shut up.” He snarls, pushing you toward the shower door. “Get in there, and make sure you clean yourself good.”
“What the fuck is your problem?!” You whine, forced inside as he barricades the open glass door and leers at you, nodding his chin at your shirt. 
“Tick tock, I’m waiting.” Sunghoon eyes the shirt hanging on your frame, reaching for the collar to pull on. “Is this Heeseung’s?! You’re wearing his clothes now???”
“Let go! You’re stretching it!”
Ignoring you, he pulls more, not even fazed by the slaps you deliver as he reaches for the hem and pulls the material up over your face leaving you no choice but to let him take it off. He lets out a sound of disapproval, reaching for the sides of your underwear. “You didn’t seriously let that asshole bust a nut inside of you.”
“Stop!” 
Sunghoon growls, pushing himself inside the shower until your back meets the chilled tile wall with a shiver. “You’re more disgusting than I thought, when did you start fucking him? Before or after our parents got married.”
He doesn’t give you time to answer, turning the shower on with the water beating down on your head. “Can’t believe he fucked you before me.” He mutters, shoving your now completely soaked underwear down. “You probably think he’s so fucking nice, don’t you?”
Tears well up in your eyes before you can blink them away fast enough, slapping the heel of your palms on his drenched shirt. “You are the only asshole here.”
“You fucking like it.” Sunghoon smirks, uncapping a bottle of body wash to squirt on your chest. “Clean it all out, it’s bad enough I have to fuck you after he did.”
“What?!” He throws a brand new washcloth at you, stepping back to the door dripping water all over the bathroom floor, head snapping with command. 
“Hurry up, my dicks getting hard watching you act so helpless.” He winks, reaching for the shower head to aim between your thighs, focused on the remnants of thick white cum seeping out from between your clenched thighs. “You let him fuck your ass too?”
Sunghoon asks as you turn away from him to reach between your legs and push out the last bits of Heeseung’s cum, nose scrunched in disgust from his comment. Pinching your buttcheek, he laughs, moving back to discard his wet clothing into a dirty hamper. “I guess you weren’t lying about not being a virgin after all, shame.” Licking the backs of his teeth, he scoffs. “My dicks bigger than his anway.”
“I’m going to my room.” You say, turning off the shower after rinsing the soap off of your skin. “And you are going to leave me alone.”
Sunghoon lets out a slow fake laugh, dropping his pajama bottoms when you turn to look at him. The white bathroom background illuminating his porcelain complexion, defined muscles flexing as he reaches for the top of the shower door, showing off his bare naked body. “Am I now?”
“Why do you even want me?”
He hums, making slow movements to bring down his arms and circle the ring on his finger, leisurely sliding it off and setting the silver band down on the bathroom counter. “Why do you think?
“You can have anyone you want.”
“Exactly.” Sunghoon tips his chin in, fitting his gaze down your wet chest and stomach. “And I want you.” Stepping back into the shower, he moves forward, a smile growing on one side of his face with each step back you take until you hit the wall again, chest rising and falling more rapidly as he looks over your figure. “Hard to believe, right?”
Tapping your nose, his index finger drags down from there, tracing the outline of your lips to your chin and the center of your neck. “Heeseung and I have always shared a similar type though.”
The mention of his brother makes you flinch, stomach churning with guilt as his finger lowers and flicks your nipples, breathily laughing the more you twitch under his taunting touch. “Or maybe he just always wants what I have.”
“You don’t have me.” You seeth under your breath, turning away from his steely gaze. 
“Don’t I?” Continuing to trace, he circles your navel, smoothing the pathway lower to the heat between your thighs. “You want me to stop?”
Lack of response and eye contact pulls another laugh out of him, crawling his digits down past your mound to your upper thighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Lack of air clears your lungs, finding it impossible to breathe, shutting your eyes to ignore the guilt clawing through your chest from inside out. Sunghoon hums, sliding a knee between your thighs for access to your center. “Look at me.”
With a gulp, you blink, slowly lifting your gaze to find his eyes. Black large pupils stare back at you, ridden with lust and desire, he leans closer, mouth hovering yours. “Good girl.”
The middle of your chest caves, shoulders slumping in as he cups around your core and groans, lips pulled over his teeth. “Can’t say no when you’re already this wet.”
Sighing, you accept your fate knowing in the back of your mind that you could have tried harder to stop him, you should have tried harder to stop him…
Sunghoon’s eyes stay locked on yours, tickling lower until the tips of his fingers find your entrance and scoop up the embarrassing amount of slick that’s already begun to pour out. It’s only because his brother just fucked you, that’s what you say to convince yourself. 
His hand raises between your faces, mouth dropped open letting out a dramatic gasp. “Look at that, so fucking wet it’s dripping down to my wrist, you dirty little..” he breaks off into a grin, shoving the coated fingers to your lips and pushing inside for you to gag around. “Taste it, that’s all for me. That’s your body begging for me.”
It’s not your fault he’s right.. even as you choke and spit around his digits finding the way to the back of your throat, you can’t deny the spike of heat building from your lower belly. 
Sunghoon swipes his fingers clean of your wet arousal and spit over your chin and cheeks, further adding to how degrading he treats you. The way your heart hammers through your chest makes it hard to convince yourself that you hate it..
He lets out a throaty chuckle, licking the mess off your chin and biting down on your bottom lip. “You really are something.” A smug smile pulls at his lips, reaching up to move your wet hair behind your ears. “You even look pretty out of the shower, you know that?”
“..really?”
Sunghoon’s tongue prods between his lips, licking at one side proudly, eyebrows furrowing as what he just said settles. “Yeah..” stifling his breath, he backs away with a fake cough, stepping out uncomfortably. “I’m not going to fuck you in the shower though.”
Silence hangs between the two of you for a minute, telling yourself you could still try to leave… you could..
He backs up to the door, grabbing onto the sides halfway out of the bathroom into his bedroom, full eyebrows raised at you before turning away.
He’s right, you are stupid.
Sunghoon’s standing with his back faced toward you, waiting for you to make the next move. Reaching for his shoulder, you gingerly lay your hand down, already short of breath. “Hoon..”
“You want it?” He asks, voice deep, carrying a hint of a smile in his tone. 
“Yes..”
Turning to you fast he pushes you to the wall, breath knocked out as his palms circle your waist. “What do I get out of it? Your used up pussy?”
“You get to fuck me.” Your mouth goes dry, lip shaking half from nerves, half out of anger. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“I can fuck you regardless.” Amusement carries in his voice, sliding one hand to your throat. “Better than he can too, wanna find out?”
With burning cheeks you duck your face in, tongue heavy in your mouth keeping your lips shut tight. “You really like him, huh?” He huffs, cursing under his breath. “That’s fine. I can change that.”
Sunghoon squats down, arms curling under your thighs to lift your feet off the floor, a cocky smile stretching across his face as he catches your shocked gasp. Propping your back against the wall, his teeth grit, hoisting your weight into his hold with added renewed strength, more determined to fuck your brain into nothing but a puddle of liquid. “Because believe me, he’ll never fuck you like this.”
His arms slide behind your knees getting a firm grip on your hips, cock dragging between your folds. “God, you’re so wet.” He sucks in a sharp breath, knees bending to get the head of his cock lined up with your hole. “Get this wet just from me being mean to you or what?” 
His teeth grind, still managing to breathe a chuckle through his exertion. “Just wanna get fucked? Doesn’t matter if I put it in your throat or pussy, probably even let me fuck your ass right now wouldn’t you?”
“N-no..”
The tip of his cock tugs at the muscle of your entrance, prodding no more than the slit in, arousal jolting through you with each teasing pass. It takes a second between your chest tightening and stomach flipping over to realize Sunghoon’s palms have lowered, landing a stinging slap to cup your ass; slowly dragging your back upwards on the wall to allow for his cock to fully enter inside in one fell swoop.
“What was that?!” He growls, cock throbbing.
“Yes!” You breathe in, eyes rolling back, chest heaving up and down. “Please—fuck me, a-ah, fuck me!”
and Sunghoon listens, thrusting forward with a firm grind, cock fully sheathed rearranging your insides. “That’s right. Want me to fuck your pussy real good? Want me to fuck that pussy the way it deserves to be fucked?” He spits, eyes ablaze with a crazed want, need to release. The stretch from his cock still manages to burn and sting, unable to lock your legs around him from the position he holds you in, full control over your body left to his arms flexed around you; pushing past the clenched up fight of muscle wrapped around him.
“God so fucking good.” His hips pull back, snapping forward at a maddening pace; rocking into your heat hard and rough, enough to make it hurt. “Such a good girl.”
Shivers rock up your spine, powerless to his strength over you as you weakly grip onto his shoulders for balance and security out of fear of falling. “Hoonie..”
He groans, head tipping back listening to your muffled broken moans, the call of his name shooting straight to his cock. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He stammers, sweat collecting on his brow bone the more he exerts, hips unrelenting with each skin-slapping piston he delivers. “Don’t even know how fucking good you are.”
The veins lining Sunghoon’s neck pulsate violently, picking up his pace even more, balls slapping loudly throughout his bedroom with every thrust. The sound of wetness gushing between your bodies drills fear in your chest, loud enough that anyone passing by outside would be able to pick up easily on. “H-hoon… I’m—cum, I’ll c-cum..” you try to say clearly, on the verge of bursting around the unforgiving slam of his length.
“Fucking cum then! cum around my cock.” He doesn’t slow down, gaze focused carefully on watching the juncture where his dick disappears past your pulsating dripping wet cunt. Sucking in another sharp breath, he slaps your ass again. “Cum.”
That sends you flying over the edge, groaning out loud, arms gone limp over his shoulders; whole body jerking back against the wall from the overstimulation. Sunghoon fucks into you roughly as your release drenches past his cock, clapping the wet mess from his thighs to your ass, and it hurts, shocking your neck ramrod straight with wide eyes. “No—h-hurts!”
“Did I fucking cum yet?” He says between clenched teeth, dropping your jelly-like limp legs from his arms, punctuating the question with a particularly rough thrust. Breathing out harshly, he looks animalistic, wild eyes glaring at you before ripping your shoulder from the wall to slam you against it on your front; chest hitting hard stealing a gasp of breath from your lungs.
“I say when we are done.” He says, splitting your ass open to push his length back in. “You asked to get fucked, so you’re going to get fucked.”
Sunghoon groans, fingertips finding your hips to bury into, thrusting too hard and fast for you to fully enjoy. Round after round between the two brothers finally taking it out of you, whimpering in over sensitivity as he hits deep inside of you and rips another orgasm out of you, much weaker than the last. “Oh that’s so good,” he grunts, fucking into you harder. “The way your pussy sucks around me just like that.”
He keeps at it, muttering about how good your cunt feels the tighter you get. “I’d never fuck my girlfriend like this.” Sunghoon breathes into your ear, eyelashes fluttering wildly at the way you grip around him, and then he’s cumming. Cock buried deep inside, pumping out drop after drop of his release between breathless groans. “Fuck.”
Sighing, he drops flat against you kissing your sweaty nape.
“Now you’re going to listen to me once and for all.” He thrusts again, pushing out his cum with each backstroke. “And end this shit with my brother, or else I swear..” biting the shell of your ear he pants heavily, licking down to your earlobe. “I’ll make sure you both regret it. Don’t want that, do you?”
Layering kisses down your cheek, he bites your jaw down to your chin, burying inside to the hilt again. “Be a good girl.”
“Fuck off.” You mumble, more than past sensitivity between your thighs. Emptied and exhausted you fall back, slapping his forearm around your waist weakly. “No more.”
“Be quiet.” He grunts, turning you both around and throwing you down on his bed on your stomach, mounting your hips to line his cock back up to your hole. “And take it.” 
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Sunghoon’s an idiot.
At least that’s what you can’t help to think as he stomps into the kitchen and lets out an overdramatic wheeze at the sight of you squished against his brother’s side at the kitchen island.
“Well.” Popping his lips, he tucks them in, dimples pinching deep holes into his cheek. “Aren’t the two of you up early.” He says, eyes laser focused on you. “Did you even sleep?”
Heeseung stiffens up, swiping away from one of the videos he recorded during the concert; locking his phone and moving to stand.
“Hee, where are you going?”
Sunghoon scoffs, opening the fridge up aggressively in search of a protein shake, mouthing ‘HEE?!’ where he faces away from you.
“Uhm,” Heeseung scratches his neck, quickly glancing at his brother and then back at you. “Back to my room.”
“You have fun in there.” Sunghoon interrupts, mixing his pre-workout. “You.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he melts you in place with a sleek angry glare. “Tutoring in an hour, your professor emailed again and you have a test this week.”
“Yeah no.” Getting up to follow behind Heeseung, you flip Sunghoon off on your way out. “Can’t meet with you today, sorry! Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to get some studying done.”
Sunghoon crushes the now emptied protein shake carton in his grip, stopping himself from running after you to drag you to his room by your hair. “What a little..”
Brushing off your attitude, he swipes open his phone to open up a chat with your mother to inform her of your negligence; emphasizing how worried he is over you passing this class, adding in that at this rate you will without a doubt fail.
He response comes in shortly, thanking him more than once for putting up with you. ‘She won’t be wasting any more of your time, I’ll be sure to cut off her subscriptions if she tries to pull this. Please give her one more chance Hoonie, you sweet darling boy❤️’
Smirking, he pockets his phone, counting down his fingers for the sound of your scream after the telltale ring of your cell phone carries from upstairs.
“What?! Mom! No!” 
Feisty. Sunghoon laughs to himself, pleased on his way back to his bedroom only to be stopped by your figure running toward him.
“What is your problem!” You hiss, lightly shoving his shoulder. “You seriously fucking called my mom to snitch on me?”
“No,” Sunghoon pouts innocently, breaking into a smile. “I texted.”
Practically foaming at the mouth, you grab him by the shirt, pulling him toward your bedroom. “Listen to me asshole!” You shriek, using all of your strength to push him inside of your room, kicking the door shut behind you. “How many times do I need to tell you to leave me alone?!”
Sunghoon smiles, shrugging as he begins to look around your room. “You’re kind of turning me on, try saying it again.”
“Sunghoon!” Charging at him, you throw your body forward at his chest, knocking him back enough for his ass to plant on your bed, surprise drawing his eyebrows up his forehead.
“What happened to.. what was it again?” Snapping his fingers, he taps his chin, eyes widening. “Oh right! Hoon! Hoonie!!!” He drags out, moaning in a high pitched tone.
“Last night was a one time thing.”
“Sure,” Sunghoon leans back on his palms, biting a smile away as he eyes you. “Sucks that you left me to wake up alone though..”
Coiled heat spirals through your gut, forcing yourself to look away. “I don’t need to get in trouble because of your ass on top of everything, luckily for me I managed to wake up after you fucked me until I passed out. Asshole.”
“You liked it,” he smirks, sitting up to rub up and down the sides of your thighs. “Just like you like this…this rough-housing between us, the hot banter and childish little arguments.”
“You’re delusional, I don’t like any of this.”
Sunghoon pouts, pulling you to stand between his parted thighs and hug around your hips with his chin perched on your stomach. “You don’t like me?”
Heeseung clears his throat from your bedroom door, too caught up with his younger brother to even think that he’d come looking for you after bursting out of his room to ‘kill Sunghoon’.
“Sorry,” he says, beginning to back up. “Didn’t know you were busy.”
“Hee! No!”
Sunghoon stands up fast, pulling you into a full body hug so that you can’t turn around and chase after his brother. “Yeah Hee, we’re busy, scram.”
The older nods, slowly pulling the door shut with a broken expression. “Heeseung please!” You scream as a last stitch of effort. “Please! Don’t leave!!”
Sunghoon sighs, rolling his eyes and shoving you away. “Fine, let’s settle this shit right now.”
Heeseung pauses, eyes wide and alert bouncing back and forth between the two of you, the panic in your gaze pulling him inside like an invisible string to come in. “Settle what?”
“This.” Sunghoon repeats brazenly, motioning between the three of you. “You’re fucking her, I’m fucking her, better too.”
Heeseung scoffs, shaking his head.
“And I don’t like that.” Sunghoon continues. “So, what are we going to do about this? Big brother.” He carps, managing to make the title come across as an insult. 
“Sunghoon, stop this!” You intervene, getting between them. “What about your girlfriend?!”
“Yeah Hoonie.” Heeseung says from behind you, moving closer until his chest meets your back. “You think Miyeon would love to know about how you cheat on her every other weekend with random sluts you meet at parties?”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a smug sneer, eyes rolling between an anxious blink. “And you Heeseung? Should I tell dad about your weekend adventures? The real reason you’re flunking out of uni? The truth behind why you’re such a fucking failure?”
Heeseung stiffens behind you, clutching at your shirt by your lower back. “Hee?”
“It’s not what you think Hoon..”
“What? So I just made up all those times I’ve had to watch you embarrass yourself, stumbling out of parties high and drunk off your ass?” Sunghoon huffs a cruel laugh. “Real nice, how you’d clearly rather fuck up your head than evolve, better yourself and try to not be such a low life prick.”
“Enough!” You interrupt, sensing the tension radiating off Heeseung’s body. “God.”
Taking a deep breath, you have to pause, remembering that you have only heard one side of this story…
“I’m doing better..” Heeseung whispers behind you, the bottom half of his face buried in his chest to hide. “Haven’t been going out the way I used to, I know I need to stop Hoon. I’m trying..”
“Oh Hee..” you turn, slinking your arms around his waist. 
“Ugh.” Sunghoon pretends to gag. “Bullshit! Trying my ass! You’ve never tried to fix anything!”
Heeseung frowns, slumping in your hold, eyes falling shut. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Hoonie.”
“I want you to get the fuck up off my gi—“ Sunghoon catches his breath, pausing and stepping back, lips twitching furiously. “Fuck.” He turns, hands set on hips visibly shaking from the rage coursing through his body.
“You can’t just..” you start, chewing on your bottom lip, weighing if you’re overstepping boundaries too much. “Talk?”
Heeseung trembles, clearly living in some fear of his brother. A similar cycle to the one you’ve found yourself racing through..
“No!” Sunghoon snaps, twisting back around to face the two of you, features tight and full of anger. “I have nothing to say to him.”
Heeseung nods, rubbing down your back reassuringly. “It’s okay, I have a lot to explain to make this fair.”
“It’s okay Hee, really..”
Sunghoon sneers, muttering under his breath about how repulsive this is, regretting his need for confrontation. 
“No no,” Heeseung continues. “Hoonie’s right, I’m a fuck up.. fucked up our relationship, fucked up my education. I fucked up my life, I know.” He reiterates, nodding and agreeing with Sunghoon. “I should have been there for you back then Hoon..”
The younger flinches, tearing his gaze away, jaw twitching. “Don’t bother, you’re too late.”
“Come on Sunghoon..” you say shakily, reaching for his hand, only for him to snatch it away. Taking a few steps back to create distance between you.
“Yeah..” Heeseung swallows, throat dry as tears gather at his waterline. “I know, but you’ll always be my little brother, and if you ever need me.. I’m here for you.”
“No you’re not.” Sunghoon sucks between his teeth, licking his lips and rubbing his eyes frustrated, using the fast action to clear away moisture. “If you’re serious then leave her alone, let me have this for once.”
“Hee, no, do not listen to him!” You speak up, glaring at the younger. “I’m not some fucking conquest Sunghoon, I’m a person, not a trophy to hold over your brothers head just because you have bad blood.”
“I didn’t say that.” Sunghoon snaps at you, baring his teeth. “Why are you even getting involved?! You’re just making this worse!” 
“Hoon, come on dude.” Heeseung moves in front of you, shielding you as if his brother would do something that would require that.
Sunghoon’s eyes bulge, bloodshot with his temper skyrocketing, pushing up to his brother nose to nose, a spark of pride roaring through his chest at the lack of difference in their height. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Heeseung’s gaze lowers, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth nervously. “Nothing man, nothing.” Holding his hands up defenseless, he turns toward you, face drained of energy. “Sorry about all of this.”
“It’s okay baby,“ you console, burying your face in his chest, arms seeking his waist to squeeze around tightly until he gasps for a breath and breaks into a smile. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I can’t believe this.” Sunghoon barks, gaining your attention again.
“Hoon, listen..” without releasing Heeseung, you turn to face him, lip tweaking down slightly. “It’s not personal, but I like your bro—“
“Enough!” He shouts, stomping toward the door. Refusing to hear that for the second time in his life, one unforgettable heartbreak was enough already.
Sighing, you return to rubbing your face in Heeseung’s warm embrace, releasing the built up stress and negative energy circulating around you. Big hands soothe down your spine, setting soft barely there kisses on your forehead, mumbling under his breath. “Thank you.“
Sunghoon backs out quietly, blinking away the itch behind his eyes. Typical of his brother to never let him have anything, even the last days with their mother when he selfishly pushed his younger brother away and told him to stay in his room. Fucking asshole could never be there for him the way a normal sibling should be. Heeseung never once chose him over a woman, not their mom, not you, and not her.
He nods to himself, clicking the door shut behind him with his jaw set tight. It’d be too easy to walk away now, accept defeat, allow for Heeseung to kick dirt in his face once again… 
But Sunghoon has never liked taking the easy route.
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“Did you honestly think that was it?” Sunghoon leans against your bedroom door, stepping in and kicking it shut behind him, startling you as he makes his way in with a venomous glare laser focused on you. “Think I give up that easily?”
“Get out of my room!” You hurriedly whisper, getting up to push him back to the door. “What the hell is your problem!? Why do you keep showing up?!”
“You. Him. You’re both my problem.” Sunghoon sneers, taking a hold of your wrists to pin them down by your sides and press your back flush against the door. 
“There’s nothing to give up!” Continuing to hiss, you thrust your weight forward, barely shifting his figure back enough to take a deep breath and lighten him off your torso. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend.”
“Semantics.” Rolling his eyes, Sunghoon waves off your annoyance. “A girlfriend, what’s a girlfriend to you anyway? The girl you met, shook hands with, and then proceeded to fuck her boyfriend anyway?”
“You!” Huffing, you beat his chest, using your strength to shove. “You know why!”
“Oh, because we made a fair trade? Your grades improve and I get in a nut once in a while.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Big fucking deal.”
“It is a big fucking deal you prick.”
“It wasn’t, until you did exactly what I told you not to do and fucked my brother.” He glares at you, forehead wrinkling at the mention of Heeseung. “The one thing I fucking asked of you, and now here you are, in love or some shit.” He says, hands raised to make quotations with a disgusted leer tugging his face down.
“You never told me to not..” sighing, you slump against the door, head aching as you wonder how this could possibly be your life. “Why do you even care?! I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Stepping back, he saunters to your pinboard of clippings from magazines, quotes and poems about different parts of Europe you’ve dreamed of every summer. “But maybe you will, eventually.”
Sunghoon traces one of the phones of a couple skiing through the Swiss Alps, scoffing under his breath at the idea of you and his brother venturing off together on some romantic getaway. Chuckling under his breath he rips off the photo of the Venice Canals, turning back to face you.
“I’ll be sure to have my father’s assistant only book the best accommodations for us.” Sunghoon grins cockily, placing his hand along the side of your neck. “Five stars only, my princess deserves the best.”
“What?” You sneer, slapping his arm away. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Our dream summer vacation.” He says dumbfounded, mouth hung open offended that you dare to forget. “The one you’ve been working your ass off to better your grades for.”
“Hoon, what—“
“Because you don’t really believe you can just run off to Europe easypeasy after fucking not only one, but both of your step-brothers?!” Sunghoon gasps, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “What would your mother say?! Man, with how strict she is, she’d probably ship your ass off to live on your grandmother's farm in the middle of nowhere. At least that’s what she said over dinner that one time with Miyeon..”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t?” He smiles, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Can you be so sure?”
“But why?” You ask desperately, head beginning to throb from this back and forth.
Sunghoon shrugs sarcastically, eyes bulging out to mock you with an expression that flat out says ‘are you stupid?’. 
“Summer in Europe.” He opens up your door, peering over his shoulder with a dazzling sharp grin. “Can’t wait.
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Next- Heaven & Back: part 1
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sungbeam · 15 days
Text
𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧
nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)
turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.
3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food
a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))
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It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stifling hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.
You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.
“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.
Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—
“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.
The cat meowed an innocent greeting.
You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.
Oh. Well, that would explain it.
You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”
Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.
The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.
Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.
“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.
“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.
About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.
Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.
When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.
There was a pretty man at your door.
You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’
As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.
You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.
It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.
You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.
The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”
“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.
Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.
“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.
He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”
You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”
“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.
Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”
“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”
“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.
“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”
You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.
He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”
“No worries! Have a nice night.”
“You too!”
San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.
And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.
Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.
San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.
By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.
“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”
You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.
You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”
“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.
He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.
The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”
“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”
“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”
“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”
What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.
Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.
Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.
Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)
“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.
He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”
Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.
“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”
“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.
You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.
“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”
“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”
He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”
You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”
San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”
Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”
“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”
The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”
When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.
The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.
You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.
San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”
Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”
“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”
For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”
Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.
San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”
You hummed. “What about it?”
“Are you doing anything?”
You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.
And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”
You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”
And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…
“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”
Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.
He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”
It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.
There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.
He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”
“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”
You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”
“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”
There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.
San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.
You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.
“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”
You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.
His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”
“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.
“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”
You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.
“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.
“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”
He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”
You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.
As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.
“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.
The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”
His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”
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a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!
atz m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet
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ghouljams · 1 month
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Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)
tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts
summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.
The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.
Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.
You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.
How long has he been thinking of you?
There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"
Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.
-
You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.
"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.
"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.
"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,
"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.
Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?
Lt. Riley"
You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.
You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.
"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.
"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."
Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.
-
There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.
He's sweet.
He's terrible.
You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.
You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."
You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.
"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"
You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.
1K notes · View notes
nouearth · 2 months
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double-stuffed.
peter parker x male reader x jaime reyes.
summary: nothing bonds two men who hate each other more than a sloppy mouth, and a sloppy hole.
wc: 13.1k. genre: smut. warnings: college au, friends with benefits, top!peter, tasm!peter, jealous!peter top!jaime, jealous!jaime, bottom!reader, threesome, rough-sex, blowjobs, handjobs, double-penetration, dirty-talk, muscle worship, body worship, fingering, ass-eating, mouth-fucking, dry-humping, breeding, eiffel-tower, filthy smut, loads and loads of cum, peter and jaime are rivals, reader is a slut, and reader also has a stretched out and sloppy hole by the end!
notes: how tf did i just write 13k of pure smut. ok well, not pure smut since i added some backstory, BUT. i wrote a lot, like??? hello??? someone check up on me!!!
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The cold air breached through the cracked-open window in Peter’s bedroom. It’d been the winter season for months, yet snow had become a rarity with every passing year. It was much appreciated when you saw the ice crystals accumulate and cover the ground until it felt like you were practically walking on crunchy clouds.
Though, despite the weather, it didn’t stop classes from continuing unfortunately.
Another gust of wind blew into his bedroom, and you pressed closer into Peter’s body. Legs entangled with his longer limbs, and he’d bring your front leg over his hip for extra comfort, simultaneously providing himself another opportunity of friction to thaw out his goosebumps.
“Pete…” You muttered into the kiss. It came out in hesitant sputters, breathless as his hips began moving against yours in a lazy yet fruitful pressure. 
You weren’t sure when it happened; Peter had an incredibly poisoning effect on you that blurred time altogether; but your jeans were tossed to the corner, leaving you in your sweater and briefs. He was dressed, or rather undressed, similarly; a blue sweater that contrasted your beige, except his pants were unbuckled down to his knees.
“Why did you open the window? I’m cold.” He muttered back, detaching his lips from yours to settle onto his second favorite part of your body—your neck. 
Peter was observant. He had catalogued sections of your skin that would honor his ears the sweet and delectable sounds of your moans from many times prior. 
Simply kissing your neck wasn’t enough. Licking multiple stripes beneath the underside of your jaw made you stiffen and swallow down any potential sounds. It was a leap forward, but you were resistant to him—at the very least, you did well in feigning it—and he’d start suckling to hammer ice picks at the barricade that had seemingly repelled all of his actions.
“Would help if you had your pants back on, you know—“ You answered after several long moments. Your mind had pivoted to Peter’s pair of lips by now, closing your eyes to the sloppy sounds of his markings as you breathed in the scent of his shampoo.
When he felt a swallow, your adam’s apple bobbing for aid—to catch some sort of breath—Peter could see the barricade crumble, feel his liability in infecting you with desire and lust as he felt a tent forming in your briefs. And he’d bite a mark into your flesh to let you out of your misery, drawing out the poison with several hard sucks until it was bruising. A gasp and multiple drowsy moans of his name heightened his senses and Peter felt his ears redden with heat from how absolutely devouring you sounded.
You felt his hand slip under your sweater and made its way towards your chest, pinching and circling your nubs with gentle fingers.
“Besides,” There was a familiar heat being stimulated with every grind of his hips, every tweeze of your nipples, and you’d thank Peter in between with a motion of your own. A languid kiss accompanied as you pressed intimately close, slowing the eagerness of Peter’s movements as both of your bulges collectively rubbed and throbbed when direct contact was being made. “Doesn’t seem like the cold is affecting you much.”
He chuckled at your tease. “Yeah? I’m just getting started too—“ The same hand that was thawing the goosebumps off your chest cascaded back to its rightful place on your thigh, then to the cheeks of your covered ass before he playfully squeezed and slapped in turn.
You let out a laugh, pushing yourself back onto his palms when he’d begun kneading at your flesh. His eyes were focused on your bitten lips, clearly isolating any more noises that would make his ears burst into flames if they hadn’t already. 
But he was selfish. He needed more of you.
Whenever you pushed back, he pulled you forward, rocking you into him—into the tent forming stubbornly in his boxers. One hand rested on Peter’s cheek and there would be moments where you’d ever so  gently cupped the plumpest section of his skin when you rolled into him just right.
“Fuck, Pete—“ It started off innocent with your hips moving back slowly, languidly into him as if you had no intentions of finishing what you started.
You were spellbound. He tantalized every ounce of thought until he had become the sole proprietor of your brain, leasing you a vitality that you could only repay in pure and absolute pleasure.
“Shit—“ The collaborative movements had enough momentum to coincidentally shift his boxers until the slit aligned with the tucking of his erection, and with one more roll of your hips, you drew Peter’s weighty cock out from the opening. 
“Keep doing that… fuck. My dick’s out.” He was desperate in his demands and equally distracted as he constantly switched gazes between the way your clothed bulge rubbed against his hard-on, and the parting of your swollen lips, to which he immediately seized the chance to slip his tongue inside of you.
He explored you in every way possible, licking inside of your mouth then pursuing your wet muscle in a brief yet sloppy chase, swiveling his tongue around yours until you surrendered into his hunger. His hands remained on your ass, squeezing and kneading at your cheeks as you continued to hump him—continued to hump his cock, your bulge pressing intimidate against his as Peter’s erection was sandwiched between your bodies, providing no window of escape.
“Wait,” You gave him a slight push on the chest when you familiarized yourself with the golden hour streaming past his window, and somehow Peter took your movements to maneuver you on top of him, sitting you on his lap. He kicked off the remaining length of his pants while you searched the surface of his bed for your phone, scoring when you felt a familiar weight in your hand. 
You clicked open to the lock screen as Peter’s hands continued roaming free around your body, practically fucking himself into the barrier that were your tight briefs, and sighed. “Class is in thirty.”
“And? You can make it in time, or skip class? Fuck—I’m close…“ He reasoned and pleaded with his eyes, almost comically desperate.
“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grounded yourself to falter Peter’s hips to a disgruntled pause. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. And I don’t want to keep my partner from waiting! We were supposed to meet up earlier—“
“You seriously giving me blue balls right now? That’s a first—“ He grumbled, unwilling to let you go as his grasp tightened around your hips. It only loosened when you pressed a kiss to his lips again, whispering a soft apology in the delicacy of it.
“Sorry… I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
You lifted yourself off of the bed to Peter’s dismay and re-adjusted the tent in your briefs, slipping into your jeans after.
“Partner?” Peter’s curiosity was piqued, only because his courses rarely had group projects beyond the usual lab-work. “Is he nice? She? They?”
He followed after you, begrudgingly rolling off of his bed when the mere mention of your classes reminded him of his own deadlines approaching. He tucked himself back inside of his boxers. Though, a large tent greatly remained.
“He. You might know him? He told me he was in a couple of my classes before then, and those were all the same ones you and I were in.” Your eyes scanned for your books, collecting it into your arms when you found them, then for your backpack after.
Peter gave your shoulder a small nudge and you turned back, finding your backpack hanging by his fingers. “Yeah? Who?”
“Thanks,” You took your bag from him, swinging it onto your shoulder, and then pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek. “Uh… Jaime! Jaime Reyes.”
“Jaime…?” Peter paused in thought, then frowned as if he ate one of your favorite sour candies. “That… asshole in Film Studies?” 
He followed you from behind as you exited his bedroom and headed towards the entrance of the apartment.
“You remember him? I don’t think I even remember what we watched in that class, to be honest. Was he that bad?”
“Yeah… Always dismissed my critical theories like they were completely wrong. Remember how we were randomly assigned a partner and we’d be stuck with them throughout the semester? He was mine! Peer-reviewing was hell with him… ” Peter bitterly recounted the memories as you listened.
There was a puzzled expression on your face that Peter found himself half-humored by, but your gaze snapped into a bright realization, as if the lightbulb above your head had exploded, the more he explained.
“Oh, yeah…! You guys were constantly going at each other when we would do those Socratic seminars. Thank god for you two, otherwise I would’ve been the one debating or asking questions.” You half-joked, but cleared your throat when there was little to no amusement in Peter’s demeanor.
“Well, maybe he thought you were cute.” You attempted to reason. “And that was his way of flirting? Or maybe he was intimidated by another smarty-pants in the class and he was over-compensating.” You snorted, holding onto the wall as you slipped your shoes on a foot at a time.
“Maybe…?” He sighed, observing you as his erection took a painful lap in its journey back to being flaccid. “Don’t take it out on me if you get a migraine because of him.”
“Pft, I deal with you on a daily basis. I can handle anything.” You finalized your outfit with a coat and a scarf around your neck. “I’ll be back!”
“Wait—“ Before you exited, he pulled you back to him by your wrist, grinning. “You got something in your eye.”
“I don’t feel anything—“ Peter took ahold of your cheeks and cradled them in his palms—plump flesh that were warm enough to convince you to skip your class for today and make a blanket fort with him instead. You smiled as he leaned close, centimeters from touching his nose with yours, and you could feel your heart weighing heavier than usual, swelling with ease the longer Peter gazed into your eyes.
And somehow, it didn’t even burst when he abruptly blew into your eye, obnoxiously laughing. “Now you do.”
“Asshole.” You elbowed his arm, his laugher quickly infecting yours, and you bid him goodbye with a peck on the lips. “Do your homework!”
Taking a painful glance at his desk from the entrance hall, piles of textbooks, notebooks, and sticky notes mocked and taunted Peter of his impending deadlines.
He groaned, dragging his feet back into his bedroom and towards his desk. “Can’t promise that.”
There was indeed something way worse than having blue balls.
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“You’re still up?” Peter stepped out of his bedroom with a scratchy yawn. The dryness of his throat never failed to rouse him awake around 3 AM. His tousled hair bounced with every sluggish step towards the water filter, pressing a kiss to your cheek mid-way. 
“When am I not…” Your voice was dull and monotonous as you remained fixated on the screen of your laptop, typing away at a filled word document. You had a late reaction to his kiss, turning towards Peter for a kiss on the lips instead—a reward for your hard-work for the day—but he’d already left to chug a glass of water down.
“I thought you were finished with your project by now?” He filled another cup of water before properly joining you on the couch.
Peter’s appearance for the night alerted you to clear your mind and take a breather. Your laptop was shoved off to the side and his arm immediately opened to bring you closer. You could feel the warmth of his gaze glazing over you with worry as he passed his cup of water into your hand.
“Yeah…” You sighed, drinking the lukewarm liquid in tired sips. “Turns out we needed to write an essay per topic, not include the three we’ve chosen in one collective essay.” When you finished explaining, you gulped the entire glass down, and set it on the coaster.
“That’s… tough, and annoying, and I’m sorry.” You and Peter laughed as lethargy devastated him of the vocabulary needed to properly sympathize for you, but his presence was more than enough. He rubbed your shoulder, giving one side an affectionate squeeze as a simple act of support while you leaned into him. “What’s Jaime doing?”
“The same thing. He’s coming over in the afternoon, so we can hopefully finish the rest.” You could feel Peter stiffen. If he had a switch on his body, it was flipped and glued to defense mode because as much as he hated to admit it, he was intimidated by Jaime. 
“Be nice, okay? I mean, what—we were sophomores? We were all figuring ourselves out early on.”
“Hm.”
Peter was intimidated by how much time Jaime was spending time with you in and outside of class; by how quickly you seemed to have bonded over the course of a few weeks; by how intimate you seemed to have gotten with him judging by the fresh amount of hickies displayed on your neck, dethroning Peter’s own set of bruising marks.
It was all his fault—Peter’s. 
He was the one that insisted on whatever you and him have had going on instead of pursuing a romantic relationship like you wanted. There had been many times where he regretted that decision; times where he thought making you his was simply a fleeting thought and nothing more. But it backfired, and regret came back in a full, disastrous, home-wrecking storm of karma.
“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” It was Peter’s sudden movements that made you jolt after enduring the long silence. He got up from the couch and walked back into his bedroom without sparing you a glance.
As if the thickened air in the room wasn’t telling enough, Peter’s stoicism solidified your assumption. You sighed a weight that fueled the tension looking free.
He was furiously jealous.
Peter hated how you came back from class later than you usually did. He hated how Jaime’s cologne of cedar wood and musk stung his nose instead of your usual scent of oak moss and citrus peels. He hated how every time he caught a glance of your phone, it was a text massage from Jaime. He hated how Jaime had a bug emoji next to his name, similar to how Peter had a spider next to his. He hated how Jaime had infiltrated your life, to the point of you having to base your schedule around him now.
And Peter hated how every time he was inside of you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Jaime’s cock was buried deep in your ass, how you willingly bent over or spread open for him, how you kneeled on the floor and most likely whined and begged for his cum as you jerked him off, emptying your thoughts of what was left of Peter for him.
For Jaime.
Peter was losing you—losing to Jaime of all people—more and more with every passing day.
But he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
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“Jaime…” You whined, drawing out the last vowel of his name as you stretched forward to loosen the tense muscles knotting along your lower back. A groan escaped when the pad of your fingers grazed your toes, and you immediately snapped back when a cramp began to settle in. “Can we take a break? I swear, I’m starting to go blind.” 
You and Jaime have been sitting on the floor, circled around your coffee table in the living room as you both worked on finishing the essays, as well as the accompanying presentation.
“Uh-oh, seems like we gotta take desperate measures then. Who else would hype me up if you go blind?” He joked, then stretched his arms upwards until a loud crackle drew a satisfying groan from him. “Dinner?”
“Uh…” You looked around for your phone, spotting it on the couch you were leaning back against, and clicked the device open to reply to Peter’s messages. “Peter said he was getting pizza for us after class. Should be on his way now.”
[Petey 🕷️]: All pepperoni ok? [M/N]: yeaaaap, can you get pineapple on one side too [Petey 🕷️]: Oh god, I forgot that you’re a pineapple person [M/N]: IT’S GOOD TO ME! 🍍🍍🍍 [Petey 🕷️]: You could dip it in a can of pineapple juice and there would be no difference
[M/N]: shut up, i’m the one paying for it
“Huh, really?” Jaime was surprised, straightening his posture as he took a nonchalant peek at your phone. For a moment there, Peter’s kindness took ahold of Jaime’s pessimism by the reins and pressed a non-existent brake. “That’s… nice of him.” 
Frankly, it was your suggestion to Peter, which surprisingly didn’t take much convincing since it was his favorite pizza joint. All he really needed was a kiss to seal the deal.
Jaime’s gaze flickered between the sprint of your thumbs and your growing smile. Blue and grey colored message bubbles appeared one after another, and the snickers that fostered briefly colored him red. Rather than finding the sound of your voice annoying, it was the person nourishing the joyful noises out of you that ticked him off.
Since middle school, he had always been at the top of his class. Whether it was because he truly enjoyed the subjects in school, or because he wanted to be the hero that pulled his family out of poverty—failing wasn’t an option. 
Then came Peter Parker. He’d been in four of his courses since sophomore year, but it was Film Studies that truly roused a flame within him. Maybe because it was a smaller class as opposed to a seminar like the rest of his classes with him. 
Or maybe because it was his first class with you, absolutely head over heels for Peter.
Peter, who would come into class late because he overslept. Peter, who would fall asleep during a viewing of a film instead of analyzing the mise-en-scene. Peter, who would be awaken by their professor and somehow manage to conjure an answer that would satisfy her—or worse, impress her. Peter, who didn’t have to work hard as him because he was… Peter Parker.
Peter Parker, who was the sole captor of your bright smile that Jaime had preferred over a hot cup of coffee when mornings were tough; the motivation for you to come out of your shell because Peter didn’t want you to be a loner like him; the person you would rely on because you trusted his opinion; the reason Jaime could find the courage to get a word in when he approached you because Peter was always by your side.
Peter, who Jaime could never be.
“Hey,” Your ear twitched as a gentle draft blew into the canal, and you immediately turned to face Jaime, ticklish in your endeavor. “I’m here too.” His lips pressed onto yours, sweet and fulfilling despite there being a bitterness in his tone.
“Sorry…” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and relishing in the softness of his lips.
Jaime let his muscles go limp, immediately toppling over your body once you pulled him close, and your bodies clumsily collided onto the rug with a small thump, a fit of laughter breaking the kiss apart in midst.
He positioned himself on his side after rolling off of you, cushioning your body with one of his arms beneath your back in turn. “Why is your rug comfier than my bed?”
You shrugged, sprightly raising your brows. “Doesn’t stop us from making out on it.” Your hand rested on his cheek briefly before swiveling it over to the front of his hair, brushing it back in one stoke, and settling on the back of his head to pull him face-to-face, nose-to-nose. 
The dark curls of Jaime’s hair fell forward over his forehead in delicate and thick clumps, and you sniffed a familiar waft of spearmint that was pleasant to your senses. “Do that again. Feels nice.”
“Yeah?” You chuckled because Jaime’s voice lowered to a calming whisper, feeling his lips brush ever so slightly over yours—feathery and light like a brush—as you repeated your strokes. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp, enough pressure to close his eyes and coerce a satisfied sigh out of him, and then another into your mouth when he kissed you as delicately as your touch again.
Every swipe of Jaime’s lips—of his tongue—muted the sounds around you, phased you out of reality, and lulled you out of the migraine you’ve been enduring for pulling an all-nighter. The last sound you recalled hearing was Jaime’s zipper, an enchanting pitch that needed no verbal cue for you to sneak your hand down his pants. The eye-rolling massage at the base of his head was abandoned, but it was immediately compensated when you rubbed and cupped at his clothed bulge.
For a moment, Jaime perfectly fit in your palm, letting your fingers do most of the work without much wrist movement as they pressed and squeezed at the soft lump. As you continued, you gradually felt the lump expand into a meaty mass that had you practically drooling into his mouth because you remember the taste and smell of his thick cock.
And defeated, because you recollected the uncomfortable stretch he’d summon when he was inside of you.
“Fuck.” Jaime hissed when your thumb pressed the smooth fabric of his briefs to the plump glans of his uncut cock, forcing the fabric to swivel his foreskin over the head in tantalizing circles—until thick drips of pre-cum stuck and stained a spot of the white briefs into a deeper shade of grey. “I could come just like this, you know?”
“Would be a waste of cum, though.” You simpered, looking pleased with the effect you had on him. Your hand began stroking the thick shape of his cock, pushing his tuck upwards until the tip poked out from under the waistband, greeting you with a delectable coat of pre-cum when you peeked downwards.
Jaime exhaled a shaky breath, pulling his shirt off. “Knowing you, you’d probably suck it right off the fabric, wouldn’t you?” The starry haze in your eyes; the constant licks of your lips; the harder grasps at his cock to pursue more dribbles of his pre-cum; he recognized the symptoms of your lewd vehemence straight off-the-bat, promptly rolling onto his back and kicking his pants off. 
“Fuck, yeah.” You were famished, absolutely starving from the way you attacked his lips and sloppily explored his mouth with your tongue after straddling on top of him. You pressed onto his bulge, pushing against the center of his briefs with deep ruts until the head of his cock was exposed. Your mouth swallowed every profanity that would slip out of Jaime’s throat, fueling your hunger and channeling it into harder grinds.
He briefly put you on time-out to sit up and help you undress, one article of clothing at a time, beginning with your shirt. Jaime latched his mouth onto the first surface of skin he laid his eyes on. As you lifted your shirt, exposing more of your body, his lips trailed behind the hem soon after. He licked upward in one long strike, then dragged his tongue over the center of your chest, murmuring as you held his head close.
“Have I ever told you how much I loved your body?” It was a sweet confession, some would reckon that it was wholesome, and that was more of a reason why it made your cock throb in strong pulses, begging for your sweatpants to release them for oxygen. He chuckled, one hand squeezing you at your bulge. “Guess I haven’t enough.”
First, he tongued at your nipples, flicking the wet muscle on one nub before moving onto the next as he held you by the waist with one hand, balancing your straddle on his lap, and massaging the print in your pants with the other. Your cheeks ignited into flames when you caught his gaze; half-lidded and drowsy as if the sound of your moans was his lullaby. Then, he gently bit when he figured you’ve been hypnotized by the languid swivel of his tongue for far too long, disrupting the chain of moans into staggers. “Jaime, fuck—“
“Try tugging on them with your teeth.” Your brows furrowed, wrinkles creasing in the middle of the two arches, as you were puzzled by a sudden voice that sounded distinctly different from Jaime’s.
When you met his gaze again, his expression mirrored yours, frowning because your lips never moved when the voice came up. “What did you—“
There was a silhouette that loomed near the open kitchen that pulled your gaze from Jaime and towards the shape of a familiar body instead. Jaime’s gaze quickly followed yours after witnessing your pupils dilate.
Peter was leaning back on the kitchen island, watching with one hand down his pants and a smile that rendered you speechless and frozen in place. “When did you—I-I didn’t even hear you come in—“
“Few minutes ago. Good thing I didn’t miss the miss the show. It was getting good.” 
Before you and Jaime could begin scrambling for your clothes, Peter was already on his way towards the two of you, halting in front. You scanned him from head to toe for any anomalies, a break you’d expect to see if someone was caught almost fucking on their living room floor. What you got instead was a familiar gaze that you’ve accustomed to your own intimacy with Peter, then he lightly tapped his foot against Jaime’s lower back.
“Not the ideal situation I’d like to… meet you again in, but… I will say that I like it a lot better than what I had originally imagined.”
“Seriously? What do you—“ Jaime met Peter’s eyes, an awkward yet heavy tension in the air forming, but once his gaze fell to the center of Peter’s crotch being palmed by his hand, he felt a lightbulb go off. “Ah.” He scoffed, a gale of chuckles following after because of the absurdity of the situation—to cover up the guilt that he found it hot at the same time.
That he actually found Peter attractive.
“Peter, I don’t think this is—“ You reasoned, but Peter deprived your speech when he began stripping off his own clothes. What the fuck is happening…?! 
“(M/N) likes it when you tug on his nipples with your teeth.” He ignored you, nonchalantly repeating to Jaime. Though, it was hard to ignore the dumb-stricken look on your face when he approached closer to you, your confused gaze following his every movement. To appease you, he gave your chin a gentle cup, fondly stroking the center with his thumb as he shared a look that you could only deem as trusting from him.
You only began to relax when Jaime forged his suggestion into reality when he brought his mouth back up to your nipples and gently tugged at the nubs with his teeth. Every pull yanked a moan out of you, but you couldn’t help but feel entirely exposed and ashamed, knowing that Peter was watching you with another man.
It was allowed. Jaime and Peter have known about each other as flings for quite some time now, so it wasn’t like you were cheating, but… why did it feel wrong?
Once Peter stripped himself down to his boxers, he approached your side again for support, a large tent begging for you to release it from the loose restriction of the pattered fabric. Jaime’s gaze curiously followed Peter, watching his every move as he suckled, bit, and pulled at your nipples. He repeated despite the fact that they were swollen in between his lips, gratified that they were becoming perkier with every torment he’d inflict upon them.
Despite the fact that you had given into Jaime’s touch, into Peter’s demands, you looked up at him with concern, a daunting guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and he recognized that look with sympathy, assuring you with a calming smile and a soft kiss for good measure.
“Be a good boy for me, and stroke my cock.” Peter murmured lowly, stroking your cheek with doting knuckles, and you felt pacified right then and there. “And when you’re stroking my cock, you’re going to stop being selfish, treat Jaime like the respectable guest he is, and suck him off—got it?”
It was rare for Peter to be verbal like that. It wasn’t him, he claimed once, explaining that it was awkward because it sounded like he was in a cheesy porno.However, even if it was terribly and overly used in those pornos; a porno was a porno, and Peter was turning you on more than ever right now.
You inhaled, absolutely enraptured by what you were demanded to do that you forgot to breathe for a brief moment—but Peter kissed you again as a reminder, and you nodded. “Got it.”
You could feel Jaime throbbing under your clothed ass, his bulge prodding at the center of the fabric in desperate beats, as if he was agreeing to Peter’s ultimatum. Guess the dirty talk got to you too, huh?
As you climbed off of Jaime’s lap, Peter tossed a couple of throw pillows to him for his lower back and his head. Then, he did the honors of pulling your sweatpants off. A collective sigh of relief was heard as Peter and Jaime realized you went commando when your cock sprang free, throbbing and begging solely on the basis of Jaime’s mouth and Peter’s voice.
You knelt on the floor and bent forward, pushing your ass back while you slowly tugged Jaime’s briefs off to reveal his thick, uncut cock, seeping in its own pre-cum. “Pete, look how wet he is.” You slurred on your own drool as Peter knelt by Jaime’s hip, rubbing at his own cock.
“Geez, no wonder you were such an ass. Probably kept ruining your pants—“ Peter amused himself, taking one glance at the flushed expression on Jaime’s face, and chuckled.
“No, that’s not— we’re going to talk about my problem with you later.” Jaime stammered, but then halted when a sigh huffed past the dry of his throat as you took his stiff dick in your hand and stroked, squeezing until his foreskin covered the swollen glans completely and let the pre-cum pool within the folds, and then pulled the skin back and spread the thick coating back over the head again, somehow thicker with every cycle.
“Fuck…” Peter watched in awe, continuing to palm at his erection until the restriction of the garment had become unbearable to sit in. He slipped his boxers off and tossed it to the corner, then positioned his hips to sneak his cock into the palm of your free hand.
There was an expecting look on his face when you glanced over; a brow raised and a nod to his cock that seemingly reminded you of his demands. Balancing on his knees, Peter’s thighs pulsed, his taller height putting more weight on his muscles and making it look all the more sculpted as if he’d selfishly stolen limbs from Michelangelo’s workroom. Even though you’d seen Peter naked more times than you could count, you found yourself staring marvelously at his body. You never noticed how with every stroke of your hand, he sucked in his stomach, to pace his breathing, and his abdominal muscles would naturally divide into sharp, defined lines.
Somehow even more so, when he began thrusting into your fist.
As Peter helped you with one of your tasks, Jaime naturally found himself spreading his legs apart when you began lowering your head. You’d never admit it because out of context it sounded incredibly comical, but you loved cock. If you had to utilize the formal language of your essays, you’d say that you treasured it. It was one of the many reasons why Peter and Jaime loved having you around; why you found yourself on your knees after they returned from a long day of classes; why you’d gotten better at taking them down your throat because it’d become a daily practice, a hobby you’d reckon.  
Because you knew how to appreciate a cock when you saw one, how to make love to one, and you would do anything to make your men feel at ease, even if it was at the cost of your own abandoned pleasure.
“So fucking big…” Your left hand continued to pump Peter’s cock while you shoved your face in between Jaime’s thighs, nuzzling and feeling the warmth of his balls loose over your nose. You inhaled his musk, repeating the deep whiffs of Jaime’s ball sweat, before taking his heavy sack into your mouth and suckling. Occasionally, you’d abandon his scrotum to lick at the underside of his cock as it laid thick and hard—pleading to be tended to—over his pelvis. 
“Shit—fuck, I love it when you play with my balls like that...” You tugged on the stretchy skin with pressed lips to the base of the sack before taking him in again and rolling the spheres over the surface of your tongue like two gumdrops. You watched Jaime writhe as you tongued him, his stomach flattening and then puffing abruptly because he was precisely sensitive over the right side of his scrotum.
Jaime’s weak attempt at controlling himself from spilling a load right then and there was an example of how twitchy and overly-stimulated he could be if you found—played with—the right spot. Thankfully, he found the grace of God to hold it in and reminded himself to breathe; slow and methodical as he watched you with arousing awe.
He switched his gaze over to Peter hazing over you, and smirked. The hard gulps Peter would take, the stiffen of his jaw, the nostrils of his nose flaring up. He was blatantly jealous, scorched by the sun type of jealous, and Jaime got off on that, found himself growing impossibly harder knowing he was victorious in this moment.
Jaime was always good at reading people’s expressions. Even if they had tried to conceal it with a smile, their eyes told a different story. With your mind solely focused on pleasuring Jaime, your hand had gone limp despite still being wrapped around Peter’s own length. 
“Just like that, fuck, baby.” Jaime reached down to affectionately pet at your head, a physical encouragement that stroked a delighted noise out of you, and you’d repeat until his hand gradually fell to the nape of your neck. By the desperate pulses of his hand, his palm slightly angling upwards to push your head forward; you’ve been with him long enough to recognize that he needed his cock sucked.
“Wait,” Peter abruptly spoke up, confident and authoritative, as you let Jaime’s balls go and bent forward an inch more, beginning to hover your mouth over Jaime’s cock. 
You and Jaime curiously looked over. Your mouth parted open to ask him what was wrong, but Peter seized the opportunity to brush past your breath and invade your mouth with his cock, the abrupt aid of his hand surprising you as it leveled your head lower to meet his pelvis. “Just a little warm-up.”
“Peter—“ The gasp of his name was shoved down your throat, immediately coming back up as gargling instead since Peter offered you little time to prepare yourself. You heard Peter let out a strong exhale, his body melting into a limp once again when your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, then the first few inches of his erection the more he pushed your head down. You braced your hands against Jaime’s strong thighs, squeezing harder and harder when it became a struggle to take Peter’s thick cock.
Jaime would’ve called the pain at his thighs unpleasant; your dull nails digging painfully into his bronze flesh followed by a scratch; but all of that was forgiven because of the scene before him and how incredibly hard it made him. Like a scene found in one of his browser’s bookmarks, you were choking on a cock that was too big for you; on a cock that you pathetically had to warm up for before beginning to throat it deeper; on a cock that would be considered a miracle to shove it down your throat in the first place. For a brief second, Jaime had second thoughts on whether you’ve sucked anyone else’s dick but his own. 
Peter offered you little patience, only pulling you back up to take a small breather because you begged him through an incoherent whine that could’ve easily been mistaken for a moan. After a few seconds, you were back downing on Peter’s cock as if you weren’t struggling to take him moments prior. It played out exactly like the plot of his favorite porn scene.
The feigned innocence, the porn star dick, the teary bottom; Jaime’s cock was dripping, envious of the sloppy and warm lathering that Peter was enduring, that Jaime was so close to experiencing again before Peter took it all away from him—because he was fucking jealous.
Jaime’s mouth fell open the exact moment Peter’s did when you pushed your head lower than you did previously, then lower, and it seemingly never stopped until your swollen lips flushed to the furry hairs of Peter’s pubes. “Holy shit, (M/N)…”
“Has he ever deep-throated you before? He’s getting better at it.” It was so nonchalant, Peter’s tone, as if he got to experience your glorious throat every single day. If Jaime digged deeper, he heard a cockiness to it as well.
Something possessed Jaime—a rapturing feeling that made his chest feel funny, his cheeks stain with red, his cock throb with fervor. That feeling again; jealousy.
“Yeah? Give me a try then, (M/N)?” Jaime wet his lips when a large dribble of drool rolled down the corner of your stretched mouth. He met eyes with you when you glanced, beckoning you with a wave of his thick cock then slapping it multiple times onto his palm. The loud smacks were like a spell, and he knew he succeeded when you pulled Peter’s cock out with a delicious slurp.
“Actually,” Peter’s grasp on your head hardened, turning it back to face his cock when his fingers swiped your chin, and shoved his cock back into your mouth, quickly before you could rouse a sympathy for Jaime. “Seems like he’s pretty occupied with something at the moment.” 
“Seriously—“ Jaime watched with one brow raised, irritation written all over his face while stroking his cock to keep himself hard. Thankfully, you saved him from completely going flaccid as you replaced Jaime’s hand with your own, stroking him as you bobbed and sucked on Peter’s cock.
It only lasted a couple of minutes before Jaime got up, still clearly displeased, and for a minute, you’d thought he would’ve walked out right then and there, until he began standing next to Peter instead. You pulled away from Peter’s cock to take another breather, sitting flat on your bottom and then welcoming Jaime with a couple of strokes while your other hand worked at Peter’s cock at the same rhythm and pace.
“Since you’re getting so good, why don’t we introduce something new then?”
“What’s that? Am I sucking two dicks at once or something?” You joked, too distracted wiping the drool off your mouth with your forearm to notice Peter and Jaime exchanging a look that surprisingly wasn’t of malice. It was as if they hit jackpot. Their eyes brightened at the suggestion and the smallest creak of their smiles signaled a sinister connection that puzzled you.
They loved sexually tormenting you.
“Wait. Guys, I was just kidding—“
“If anyone could do it, it would be you.” Peter flashed you a grin, knocking on your lips with the tip of his cock as if it was an entrance to the warmest cock-furnace in town. “Come on.”
“Yeah. You always told me to try out my options first before deciding whether it wasn’t for me. Shouldn’t you follow your own advice?” Jaime hummed, Peter agreeing after, then joined Peter in his mischievous endeavors. He traced the outline of your lips with his cock, smearing your plump flesh with his pre-cum. 
You were apprehensive, looking up at them as they straighten their posture in anticipation. Their cocks stood heavy and intimidating, weighing heavily on your lips, and you were sure if you opened up your mouth in this moment, they would certainly take the opportunity to push past your complaints and fuck your throat again.
“Make me a deal, then.” The salt of Jaime’s cock compelled you to speak, offering him the tiniest licks because you felt bad for abandoning his cock earlier. With your tongue offering him little resonance, Jaime rolled his shoulders back to get some kind of fixture, as frustrating as it was.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, greedily pressing the head of his own cock to Jaime’s so he was spared a few licks of your tongue. It was almost distracting—how the plump tips of Jaime’s and Peter’s cock connected together in thick, web-like strands. You felt yourself give in for a moment, taking both of their cocks into your hands—one in each respective grasp—and mouthed the swollen glans while speaking.
“No more fighting for the rest of the night. And if we’re ever doing this again,” You realized you had the power to control them all along, the power to make them succumb to your demands because without your mouth, who else would they go to? “You guys are going to make amends and be friends. Deal?”
“Deal.” They collectively agreed in unison, a quite comical interaction that you were confident they were going to reel back on their promise once you squeezed a load or two out of them; their minds would be cleared and their decisions wouldn’t be drawn by the simple promise of sex.
“Fuck,” You couldn’t help but compare their cocks as your hands stroked them down in your spit, coating them in a glossy sheen that caught the light above. It was glorious seeing their cocks in this position, with Peter and Jaime towering over you, their cocks sticky and wet from your spit. “Wish you could see what I’m witnessing right now.” 
You were envious that they only had one subject in their center of vision. You had to constantly alternate between Jaime and Peter to make sure one wasn’t feeling neglected. If you presumed they did, you’d recompense through a cycle of sucking their cocks, playing with their balls, slapping their dicks on your face, tongue included, until your cheeks were covered in your own spit.
Whatever they wanted, you’d do it for them because you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing your boys were unhappy.
Peter’s dick was a spitting image of one of those famous male porn stars that you recalled obsessing over; a strong curve to the length with the girth thickening towards the head; it was always a struggle to fit him inside of you. If you had to be modest, you’d call it a handsome cock as natural veins pumped throughout his cock, making it evidently clear where all the blood was rushing to; a natural eye-widener, and a throat closer, for everyone.
Peter liked making sure your face was free of any anomalies. Whether the number of obscurities were the bad lighting in the room, casting shadows in place that masked your mouth, to the locks of hair covering the tiniest bit of your face; you were a wonderful performer that needed to be seen, and Peter was here to ensure that, especially with a guest in the room. 
His eyes casted over you while you went down his cock under the control of his palms. He liked having you follow his rhythm, follow the pace of his urges. If he wanted for you to focus your tongue on the head of his cock, then he’d pull you back at his own time and make sure to pull his hips back whenever you needed a fix of something more. If he wanted you to deep-throat him until you couldn’t breathe, he’d make sure you were on your very last grasp of life before you turned blue.
The sound of your saliva building and welling up in the back of your throat was a beautiful noise to him, one he could hear in his sleep and happily have wet dreams of. You sucked on his cock, slobbered over the weight of it through several coughing fits and chokes, and you made sure to look up at Peter with tears in your eyes, seeking for some kind of approval. He breathed out slow, seemingly controlling himself from spilling all over you right then and there, and found that if he didn’t stop himself now, then you’d never get to Jaime. When he told you to open your mouth and pant with your tongue out like a fucking animal, a wide and dark smile spread across his face. It wouldn’t be absolute control if he didn’t succeed in humiliating you.
“Good boy,” Peter bent over to slap you hard on the ass, a loud echoing smack resonating in the room. You winched, but nonetheless smiled up at him because Peter approved of your skills. “Now, make me proud.” He sent you off with a kiss, roughly patting the side of your cheek where his cock once bulged through, and did you the favor of shoving your mouth down on Jaime’s cock with no warning.
For Jaime, it was as if his own uncut cock couldn’t handle the weight and mass of his meat, making it naturally curve downwards that made it less difficult for you to slide him down your throat. What he lacked in length, he massively over-compensated in thickness and girth. A prominent vein ran down the center, and it made your heart skip a few stones or two when you realized the thick blood vessel was the reason why he built up a delectable amount of pre-cum.
The definition of control was interpreted differently between the two men. Where Peter forced you to suck his cock and move at his own pace, Jaime preferred constraining your head in between his palms and force you to take his cock, like you were some kind of blow-up doll. With a slightly bent posture to properly fit himself into your mouth, Jaime hooked one thumb at the corner of your mouth and stretched it open to accommodate his girth, and fucked into your warm mouth. Your knees felt bruised, burning in agony as you took every one of Jaime’s heavy and selfish fucks with absolutely no complaints. You clenched your eyes tight when he hit a little too hard at the back of your throat, then again, and again, because he loved how you sounded when his cock dented into you. He also loved how you couldn’t contain yourself and let an endless amount of saliva waterfall from your tongue and mouth, making it all the easier to slide down your throat.
“Fuck yeah, dude…” Peter was in awe. You felt one of his fingers toy with the pucker of your hole after he took a scoop of your saliva and spread it over the length. In circular motions, Peter was teasing in his endeavors, chuckling to himself as he felt you clench at the tiniest appeasement. “Think he likes how you’re fucking his mouth.”
“Yeah? There’s room for two, you know.” It was the most they’ve exchanged conversations since the last time they saw each other in class; although this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Jaime pressed his cock to the right side of your mouth, and you whined, giving his thigh a slap because it was a strange and uncomfortable sleeping. He pacified you with a couple of head rubs, then briefly taking his cock out for you to recover your breath.
“Let’s move to the bed, my knees hurt…” You grumbled while simultaneously catching up on your breath. You didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as you already made your way into your bedroom with footsteps following you from behind.
It only took a few seconds for the three of you to work out your positions; Peter and Jaime laid flat on the bed, with each men taking the opposite end, similar to a bridge. Their legs tangled, thighs sat atop of one another, Peter’s feet at Jaime’s head and vice versa, and ballsacks pressed with the cocks facing towards the respective owner. You were the interconnecting piece, the final key in completing the puzzle, as you sat by the side of their hips. You had Peter on your left and Jaime on your right, jerking them off with your respective hand.
“Comfy?” You asked both of them, nonchalant in tone as you briefly went down to lick at the precum dribbling down Jaime’s cock, then to Peter’s as you caught the strong pulses of his length at the corner of your eye.
“Very much…” Jaime sighed, mirroring Peter’s position and cushioning his head with his arm. Contrary to how they’ve been treating you and your mouth, their gaze had softened as they’d been watching you. Peter had his warm palm running continuously down your spine, while Jaime’s arm traversed around you to take his time in teasing your hole with a finger, slow and sweet like the taunting delicacy of your tongue.
“So fucking big…” You marveled when you pressed their stiff cocks together and stroked out a groan from either one of them. The lights of your eyes dilated into sparkles because you could barely wrap your hand around them with this one grasp, and out of curiosity, you squeezed to impossibly squish them together, effectively earning a needy rut of their hips from Peter, then Jaime, and your throat caught a profanity because it was the hottest thing ever.
Stiff veins pressed into one another and Jaime’s precum made it too slippery for you to properly hold him and Peter without one of them slipping out of your hand. You were growing impatient, and you could see it in their eyes that they were too. Jaime’s was pleading for some kind of warmth, while Peter’s was almost threatening, as if he was about to pass out any second. 
After a couple more taunting strokes, you gave in and appeased them. You lowered yourself, smelling the sweat and musk that both the men heavily extruded through the slurry of pure sex, and shoved both of their cocks into your mouth. At least, you attempted to.
“Oh, fuck—“ Jaime’s eyes widened, then tightly closed because he was overwhelmed.
“Shit…” Peter muttered under his breath, the words leaving his mouth open because he’d only seen this in porn scenes.
It disappointed you, you couldn’t possibly fit them inside of your mouth except for the heads. If only you had a bigger mouth, or maybe knew how to disjoint your jaw muscles to somehow fit them both completely in—but you didn’t. Despite the limitations, you settled on fitting the heads of their cocks and suckling. As your tongue ran over Peter’s bulbous head, then Jaime’s thick glans, you made sure you were stroking what you couldn’t find in your mouth. Instead of lamenting over the loss of a stretch, you marveled at the way it felt when you wrapped your mouth around the glans, then at the way their dicks rubbed against one another desperately, imperfect in rhythms because Peter and Jaime were selfish in their own pursuit of your mouth. 
“So fucking hot, god…” Your internal thoughts came out in a moan, slapping their cocks on your tongue as you stared longingly at each one of them, wanting this very scene to seep into their mind and allow you to be the defining example of a cock whore. 
You then pulled away to dribble bubbles of spit over their needy cocks, lubing them each until you proceeded to struggle to fit them inside of your mouth, only barely being able to push your lips past their heads. You knew they liked watching you struggle, watching you do your best to pleasure them, and it was mutual benefit because you liked having the attention all on you.
“Need to fuck you…” Jaime demands almost came out as a whine, and you found it absolutely adorable considering his meat was weighting heavily on your tongue.
“Fuck, baby, me too… I need to fuck your hole.” There was frustration pent up in Peter’s voice, and he took it out on the grasp he had on your ass, kneading your left cheek until you could mentally picture a handprint on your skin. You winched, pushing out to relieve some of the sting, but Jaime’s hand abruptly smacking down on your right cheek rutted you back.
“Only if you guys promise to dump your loads in me.” You moaned, feeling someone’s finger climbing into your hole again and pump inside of you. Then another, spreading and curling the two joined digits. And another, three now, pumping at a slower rhythm, because your tightening walls were restricting their movements. Peter’s gaze darkened, because he swore you were clenching on purpose to taunt him.
“As if there was any other option on the table?” Peter questioned, rising to sit on his knees, and Jaime would later join. 
“His hole’s made to be filled with cum.” Jaime added with a smoldering expression, flipping you onto your stomach, then provided proof of his comments by spreading your ass cheeks out until you felt completely vulnerable and exposed. You resisted with a few clenches, but Jaime’s grasp on your ass cheeks was forceful stronger; there was a gratification that helmed his palms as he showed off your pucker to Peter. You felt something wet flatten against your opening, rearing you with inquisitive licks and prods like it was searching for something inside of you, “Tastes good.” Opening you further like its intention was to make your body writhe in toe-curling and ass-pushing exaltation. Your back arched into the mattress and you spread your knees further apart, gyrating your hips into the thick, musky air because the slightest draft made your cock harden and tremble with a whimper.
“Fuck, look how tight he is too…” You moaned when Peter curiously slid two lubed fingers into you despite being well acquainted with the tight cavity once Jaime pivoted to licking at your taint, then the base of your balls. The opening of your legs provided enough space for Jaime to sneak his head in between them and take your cock into his mouth to suck you off, holding you steady at the base.
“J-Jaime, fuck—Peter!“ His mouth was warm, strangely comforting, and whimper inducing. You felt yourself sink onto your knees and lie pliantly as you let him take you, as you let Peter invade you with two more fingers; a total of four digits pumping inside of you now; though you made sure to lift your hips up to leave enough room for the man who’s been slobbering all over your erection. 
If only you had eyes at the back of your head so you could witness Peter and Jaime touching themselves, so you could watch Peter’s mouth gape open when he slid his large lubed cock into as if he hadn’t done that countless times prior, so you could see how Jaime’s free-hand guided Peter’s hips to push further into you because they both were well-aware how accommodating your hole can be. It was a struggle to even fit the head of his cock into you, like you’d expected, but you were thankful for Jaime as he gave Peter the push he needed.
“Oh, fuck,” You strained, gathering yourself onto your forearms to toughen out the discomfort—practically planking—as Peter breached himself into you moaning at the tightness, then began moving his hips.
Slow and steady, you felt more of Peter residing into you with every thrust, rocking your own hips to thrust into Jaime’s mouth. It was a messy, interlocking of sweaty bodies, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. Jaime’s tongued swirled around you, inhaling and working you with a greedy tongue. When he pulled off with an audible pop, you felt his saliva dripping off of the span of your cock in heavy webs, that were then used to lather up his own cock before rolling off the bed to stand before you. He tipped your head back, making you look up at him flushed and intoxicated from Peter’s quickening thrusts, and pushed his cock back inside your warm mouth in one smooth slide.
You didn’t know where to dispose your moans now that your mouth was filled. Once Peter efficiently picked up his pace, he steadied his balance with a firm grip on your hips; the left lag was braced on its knee while his right leg was heeled on the mattress, fucking his cock into you deeper with his new position.”Fuck, I could watch you take my cock all day.”
Your cheeks were hot as your moans ballooned nowhere but around Jaime’s cock. Whimpers and joyful noises vibrated around him as you sucked his cock off, and you’d occasionally lose your balance when you tried to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth, but you caught yourself before you could fall flat onto your face. You didn’t want to waste a single second of not both of your holes filled.
“Fuck yeah, keep fucking him like that.” Jaime exhaled, reaching out to fist-bump Peter as there was a mutual indulgence the two provided for each other. His body was slick with sweat when you noticed droplets of heat running down his muscles. He pumped out a few puffs of breath when he fucked into your mouth quick and desperate, enveloping and pressing your head to his abdomen to keep you steady, to keep his cock from falling out of your mouth because you had a habit of pushing him out whenever he pushed past your limits. Your field of vision was basically hidden as you stared into nothing but Jaime’s trimmed pubic hairs, your passive mouth sore and hurting, and your cock was equally sore—dripping on its own accord now—because you found it so incredibly alluring to be used thoughtlessly like this; Peter selfishly driving himself into you, panting because he was close, and Jaime pushing back into your gags with eager ruts of his hips, a tolerance that you knew would have you sore tomorrow morning, but a fucking comfort to know that you pleasured the two men with your own body.
“Switch.” Peter and Jaime exchanged positions once they knocked out a low high-five. It was on your own terms to flip yourself onto your back in the meantime, hanging your head off the foot of the bed for Peter to mouth-fuck you while you bent your legs up to your chest in anticipation of Jaime. Peter cooed, petting your spit-wet cheeks before leveling himself to meet his cock to your lips, then pushing your mouth open. It was adorable to see how you knew your place without a single spoken demand. “Mm, fuck—Jaime kept you warm and nice for me.”
“Can say the same for you, Pete.” At nearly the same time, Jaime supported himself by using the back of your thighs as leverage, squeezing a glorious amount of lube over his cock before pushing into you. Within the first slide, you were reminded of how thick he was from the way you were too distracted to suck Peter off and let your mouth agape, croaking out a discomforting moan. “Fuck, he’s warm.” He didn’t waste to time in letting you adjust to his size, because—well—Peter did the work for you, and began burying himself deep and close to that certain spot that never failed to send tremors down to the bone of your body.
Jaime snapped his hips with precision, the loud claps of sweating skin snipping at each other being one audible evidence of his experience with you. Your thighs and ass rippled sharply, then your muscles stretched as he pushed forward to fold your knees to your chest and slot his cock into you with momentum, gravitational force pounding him down into you like ocean waves crashing onto shore. Every time his impact moved you an inch off the bed, he brought you back with a tug at your thighs because he needed to be close to you. He needed to watch you gag on Peter’s cock, your throat struggling to close around his girth when it was sheathed deep enough for Peter to bulge through. When it occurred, Jaime showered delicate kisses to the center of your throat, moaning when he could feel the span of Peter moving inside of you, and then feel your throat constrict when he pulled out in a slow slide to draw out your breath for a little longer, to watch you desperately inhale for fresh air.
“Do that again.” Jaime couldn’t resist his temptations, caressing your chest and stomach because it had been flexing the entire time Peter and him had been fucking into you. The darkest desires compelled him to roam his hand towards your neck and wrap it around while Peter buried himself down your compliant throat again, and he squeezed his hand around you, your eyes clenched following the added pressure, while your throat locked around Peter’s juicy cock. Your gags lodged, bubbly in agony because they had nowhere to escape, until Peter pulled himself out what felt like minutes away of seeing the stars, and you immediately spilled into desperate intakes of breath, panting yet moaning because you had never felt such an intense adrenaline rush in your entire life.
Dragging his balls across your face, Peter loved seeing you sexually tormented like this. Red in the face as the blood rushed to your head, delirious on the sole entity of cock, winded through staggered pants as he had you gagging down his cock as if he had a lifetime warranty on your throat. It was beautiful; your words slurred because you were too exhausted to form coherent sentences and he’d use that as leverage, asking you to repeat yourself knowing that he’d deprived you of oxygen. Almost always, despite the promise that he’d let you catch your breath, all of that is thrown in the gutter when Peter sheathed his cock back down your throat like a man who had been cut off of your services cold-turkey, returning back with a vengeance, and as a man who had become a fiend for pleasure.
Jaime and Peter cheered like frat boys you’d see in porn, laughed because you looked so adorable when you asked for a small break; your cheeks were guttered with tears and your voice scattered into puzzled cracks. It was hard to resist coddling you with praises and affectionate kisses, even had they turn up their demeanors to an eleven. You would always be someone they treasured.
“You did fucking great, (M/N), god…” Peter was awe-stricken, rewarding you with a kiss on the lips to breathe life back into you, briefly holding your head up so he could unfurl the clouds until they dissipated for the time being.
“Mmf…” You thought you were a lot stronger than this, but your muscled had turned into jelly. Jaime slowed his thrusts down when he noticed how limb you’ve gotten and he figured stroking your cock again would do wonders for your peace of mind. “Need…” You muttered something under your breath, and for a moment, the two men paused because they thought you’d had enough and wanted to stop.
“Hm?” Jaime did his best to control his hips, panting. Judging by the death grip on your hips, it was obvious he was nearing his climax.
“Need you two…” You groaned out, replacing Jaime’s hand with yours as you switched your gaze between Peter and Jaime, collectively begging for them with the yearning gaze in your eyes. “Need you two in my ass, fuck…”
“God, you know how to make a man happy.” Peter laughed, breathing a sigh of relief, and you swore his cock had grown bigger at the simple thought of sheathing himself inside of you again. “Up, up.” You lifted yourself with the help of Jaime’s embrace when Peter positioned himself under you, and then Jaime lifted your legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, angling your ass out just right after pulling out.
Jaime did most of the work as he was the only one kneeling, whistling an impressive note when your gaping hole was exposed to him, and for his viewing only. “If only you could see this, Peter.” He prepped you and Peter with a generous amount of lube, then himself, chuckling as he stroked himself to the expanded opening of your hole. “We stretched him out real good.”
“Fuck, won’t be too difficult to fit us in then.” It was a rhetorical question that you knew the answer to, and you could feel Peter mischievously smiling into the back of your neck as if he told the funniest joke in the history of mankind.
Peter’s arms traversed around you, his palms reaching to hold your ass open while Jaime intruded into you first. The lube made his entrance a lot easier than the first time and you immediately welcomed his meaty cock with a tight suction, holding his thrusts as you felt the bulbous tip of Peter’s cock prodding around for a gateway into you.
It was a slow and methodical approach. For them, it was more important for you to feel comfortable instead of potentially letting the consequences of rushing everything ruin your experience.You felt flustered, overwhelmed, and your body followed in pursuit as you felt a stretch you’d never dealt with before. The hairs on your body stiffened. Heat spread throughout your body in hot splotches and left your cock limp and flaccid, spidering from beneath layers of skin until goosebumps raised from the sweat when you felt Peter trying get inside of you.
“Peter—oh, fuck—“ Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to open up for him despite the buzzing pain. You were pacified, and then encouraged by the deft of Jaime and Peter’s comforting hands. A pair of Jaime’s calloused hands ran over your legs, then thighs, then stomach, all over your body, to get you to relax your muscles. Another pair massaged your thighs, Peter’s; he whispered sweet and calming encouragements in your ear, dousing the strain of your neck in tiniest kisses while he attempted another push to fit himself in.
“Let me in, come on… We’ll take care of you.” Peter never lied. You trusted him. You trusted him to not hold it against you if you couldn’t. If you decided to stop because it was too painful. You let out a few nervous breaths, your stomach flexing, and then came Jaime, rallying your will with wet yet delicate kisses, just the way you liked it, as a way to distract you. Little by little, you felt yourself give in, your muscles slacking the more they touched you everywhere, including your cock again. Your body was burning with heat not because of apprehension, but because they couldn’t take their hands off of you. You felt deified, like a god as Peter clamped his lips around your neck, his strong hands kneading at your ass, while Jaime moaned into your mouth, electrified by the sweet taste of your wet tongue.
You breathed.
You met Jaime’s gaze, then turned to kiss Peter on the lips after meeting his, moaning as Jaime began thumbing the head of your cock.
You trusted them.
Your mouth alternated from Peter’s to Jaime’s in a heavy and tense session. Greedy tongues reaching for whatever was laid before them, and you were sure Jaime and Peter briefly made out because they were so fucking lost in the heat of it all. Their passion and lust had poured a newfound energy into you within a cycle of heavy kisses. Tongues worshiped your body from the neck and shoulders down, and you felt weightless.
And you let Peter in.
Slowly, your hole stretched to accommodate the incoming cock, and you let out the most heart-swelling and cock-hardening groan when you felt the fattest part of Peter’s glans breached you, then a yelp when the entire cock-head slipped  inside of you abruptly.
“There we go, shh…” Peter’s hand ran down your arms, a sincere attempt to stabilize and calm the trembles in your body. His lips remained attached to the shell of your ear, whispering words that had gone from one ear, scrambling letters into gibberish in the process, and then out the other. “Slowly…” Peter said, more so to remind Jaime, and he nodded with assurance.
They gave you a second to recover while you held tight to Jaime’s shoulders. Sweat trickled down your chest, your spine, framed your forehead in droplets, as you rode the wave of pain. After subsiding the gut-wrenching pain with a few deep breathes, you gave them a nod, giving them the pass to continue.
“Fuck,” Jaime wished you didn’t press your face into his neck as you were sandwiched between the two of them. There was nothing more attractive than watching you suffer, as morbid as it sounded. He thought you looked beautifully broken, sounded beautiful too as you whimpered when either one of them moved their hips. With slow and methodical ruts, they gradually felt you relax with the occasional jerks. Peter’s cock slipped deeper into you when Jaime thrusted out, and gradually, they found a rhythm that worked for your comfort, opening you, stretching you out as their cocks rubbed stiffly against one another. “Feels so good—“
“You’re amazing, baby.” Peter assured you, a motivation for you to loosen your muscles again. He held your ass apart to ease their combative motions in, and once you let go through the careful and spoken truths that Jaime and Peter kept praising you with, the fear that you had latched onto and kept vaulted in the rigid of your body seemingly had been let go—thrust by thrust, you felt yourself opening up and things got much easier for you.
You panted, shoving yourself down and back so you were fully impaled on the cocks fucking you, confronting your fear and winning for Jaime and Peter. You have two cocks inside of you, taking two cocks whole, fucking your tight hole and spreading you open. You reminded yourself because it felt like a dream, whimpering when Jaime began going balls deep with every thrust, and Peter would follow in pursuit, holding your weight up and your ass open. 
Finally, you felt your cock harden again; the span of it springing into a familiar mass, taunting Jaime to move faster as your cock throbbed when he came down onto you, then a few dribbles of precum leaked when Peter came up. They let out a moan when they met in sync, occasionally fucking you with their cocks as one big mass, their voice rattled with rapture because you were taking them in so well, so inviting despite your ability to clench and hold around them. You don’t, because you were fucking free, wiggling your hips without a thought, without a single rhythm in debt to your ass, and the only beat you follow was the sound of your heart as it began to accelerate.
You can hear it soar, decibels rushing loud and alarming in your ears as they fucked and fucked more into you. Cocks rubbed as one, then Peter would purposely delay because he loved burying himself into you as a single unit, grounding your hips to him because you were his first, and you heard shards of spirit break into a gazillion pieces, a barrier that had protected your sanity.
All of that had exploded, fireworked itself into shooting stars when Peter doesn’t waste a second to pound up into you, his breath fogging the back of your neck, then your shoulder when he hooked over his chin to kiss you again, swallowing your whimpers to turn them into his own delectable moans.
Forget holding your legs back, Peter abandoned them and you were on your own, your limbs relying on your own core strength as you struggled to hold them up, while his cock drive madly into you, Jaime’s chasing after in equal, heavy ruts.
“I’m gonna cum—fuck.” You huffed, closing your eyes because you were so close. You felt yourself getting closer relying on the thought that you hadn’t even touched your cock because you were so distracted, so well-fucked that you didn’t need to be touched.
Like that, just like that, keep fucking me like that. And just like that, you cried out and your cock throbbed once, signaling a fountain of cum that would then shoot out of you like lava seconds after, and your pucker would clamp around their cocks moving inside of you, pounding into you. Thick ropes of cum landed over your chest, then on your face when the impact of their thrusts was forceful enough to give it some height, and your hole throbbed around their joined cocks because you relieved yourself with a throat-cutting shudder, goosebumps returning back to form from head to toe.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Jaime repeated himself, fucking into you harder, deeper, faster. You felt his heavy pants on your chest when he leaned down to taste your cum, and then witnessed his eyes roll back when the taste was heavenly, a creamy merit that made the ache in his back worth it because you tasted so fucking good. You looked so fucking good, exhausted and melted, taking two cocks in you at once without a single complaint.
“Fuck.”
Jaime’s hands gripped your hips harder, and he let out a deep groan, burying his thick cock deep into you as he came. The weight of Jaime’s strong pulses drew multiple moans out of Peter, bursts of pleasure inflicting on the latter as he fucked into the hot flood of cum, fucking you sloppily with his cum-lathered cock, fucking alongside Jaime’s sensitive and swollen glans, vaulting it from leaking out of you.
It wouldn’t be long until Peter was triggered to let loose as well and spare you of his own thick loads with a raspy groan. He snapped his hips upwards once when he came, then delivered another hard snap to push out multiple strong and thick loads, and then another for good measure, because he was obsessed with how it felt to have his cock drowning in the creamy and warm mixture of his cum and Jaime’s. Your pucker throbbed, both of them completely breached inside of you to the hilt of their cocks, and your ass felt so fucking full—so fucking raw—knowing that you were double-stuffed with endless streams of their cum loads.
“Guys…” Your voice trembled, your muscles giving out as your legs dropped from fatigue, but they wouldn’t stop moving their cocks in you, sloshing their thick cum inside of you. Once your legs dropped, you felt a river of cum dribbling out of you, cold in its journey out of your ass, and you shivered despite being sandwiched by two warm bodies. “Mmf, tired…” 
One by one, they slipped out of you. Peter first, whimpering because he rubbed his sensitive cock against Jaime’s during its removal, making him twitch and shudder. Then Jaime, unwilling at first because you were so warm, but nonetheless unsheathed himself out because he was curious.
You didn’t know what they were doing, nor did you care, because exhaustion had caught up to you, reminding you that you barely had slept the night before, and now the physical strain on your body only added more to the overwhelming drive it could barely handle. You rolled flat on your stomach, nose-dived into the pillows, and then whined because a pair of hands wouldn’t stop kneading at your ass, spreading them wide open for your hole to expose itself.
And when you looked back over your shoulder, Jaime and Peter had their phones out, snapping photos of your violated hole; gaping and raw, and breached as cum was spilling out of it like a leak. It was the fucking hottest thing for them, mouth-watering, and when you scoffed and scanned their sweaty bodies, you swore their dicks twitched.
“You fucking rockstar.” Peter laughed, love-tapping your asscheek before joining you by your side. His hand never left your ass, a strong urge to relieve the pain, if you still had any, with comforting rubs and squeezes.
“Didn’t hurt you too much?” Jaime asked, smoothening his palm along your spine.
You silently shook your head, murmuring. “It was a good bonding exercise, don’t you think?” They laughed, and for a brief moment, Peter and Jaime exchanged a cordial look towards each other, approving the other with a firm nod.
“To new beginnings.”
Jaime joined you from behind, feeling an arm traverse from under your stomach, and pulled you closer until you were on your side and he was spooning you. You could hear both of their heartbeats running at full pace, then slowing as they sank their heads into the pillows, their breathing becoming shallow as they were just beginning to recover from their exertions. Gradually, Peter’s hand stopped rubbing your ass and after you looked back to see if Jaime was asleep, so was Peter, drifting off with a warmth that you wished would stick by you for eternity.
“To new beginnings...”
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nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
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chimaerakitten · 1 year
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people write AUs where characters from a fantasy universe are in like, the setting or plot situation of another non-fantasy story all the time, and usually it’s a no-powers version of those characters because more often than not the powers would absolutely break all the stakes of the au.
And that’s totally logical and makes sense, but I think the version where the transplanted characters get to keep their powers and break the stakes has hilarious and underutilized crack potential.
Like just once I’d like to read “The 74th annual Hunger Games goes absolutely tits up and nobody knows why none of the kids seem to be dying despite some serious effort on the part of the gamemakers. Meanwhile sharp-eyed viewers at home may notice that the shy and unassuming male tribute from district 11—whose personal item was a pair of costume glasses—hasn’t been seen on-camera even once since the opening gong. But not many people do notice. After all, in all the pageantry leading up to the games, no tribute was more boring than Clark Kent."
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ew-selfish-art · 9 months
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Dp x Dc AU: Damian and Ellie become friends, and for all his research into her ‘Guardian’ older siblings, he can’t seem to understand why they’re asking after his own homelife. 
Ellie was an annoyance to him from the moment they met, and this unfortunately meant that her and Jon got along like a house on fire. She’d transferred to Gotham Academy in the middle of the year and clearly had no idea what a private school was like politically- She walked right up to him and declared them friends. He’d retorted something about preferring to be enemies, she immediately had a shark like grin and after school they had their first spat- which Jon immediately flew into town for upon hearing Damian’s typically fight related biometrics (which, yes, he always listened for). 
Immediately upon Jon pulling them apart, Ellie asked again if they could be friends and Damian accepted. Jon is bewildered but hey! New Pal! And she can throw down! How Neat! (plus she didn’t ask how Jon appeared so quickly-he wasn’t caught flying because of their fight- success! Identity kept secret!) 
Ellie eventually invites them over to her place since she lives closest to the school, and the apartment is meager if not incredibly well kept. Jazz is the one home at this time, makes them all some apple slices and ensures that they did their homework. Jon declares that Lois would love her. Jazz asks if Damian is safe at home, and she has a weird green color to her eyes for just a second when she asks, but Damian assures her that the Wayne family is merely a rambunctious one with too many children. 
The next time they come by her older brother Danny is the one who is home, and he looks absolutely exhausted as he mixes instant coffee granules into his energy drink. Damian learns that he’s an engineer at WE and working night shifts- apparently Danny was home the last time they visited but was asleep. Danny also kind of looks at Damian funny for a second, and asks if he’s safe at home, Ellie protests that they can’t keep asking him and Damian defends his family once more. 
Damian goes home after one of their visits and at the family dinner table if there is anything about him that reads as ‘abused child’ since he keeps getting this treatment by the Nightengale siblings. Tim doesn’t add anything towards Damian’s predicament but does explain that Danny Nightengale is off limits from the rest of the family- He’s not to be adopted and he’s not to be researched, this dude is his main engineer on a Bat project and Tim’s personal project to crack. 
Jason, who happened to attend because it was Alfred’s Eggplant Parmesan night, voices that his new therapist is also a Nightengale. She’s great (the whole family has noticed) but he’s also contemplating dropping her as a therapist for... reasons. (The whole family understands that he’s in love with her and theres a betting pool around it.) 
Bringing the conversation back to the start, Bruce suggests that Damian invite them over for dinner so that they can see he has a stable homelife. Tim and Jason protest but it gets ignored. Damian asks Ellie at school and she happily accepts with “Great! I can’t wait to haunt your house!” 
The Nightengales arrive, and fit right in. The evening goes off without out any major issues or bumps in the road- although the entire family + Danny are all keen on Jason pursuing Jazz (who keeps refusing to comment despite blushing every other word he says to her). Ellie is adored by the whole family, though Damian does his best to threaten them away. Danny is incredibly loose lipped about the project he’s working on to Tim’s horror but Danny just kind of winks and says “this feels like a room of people that can keep a secret.” (Danny doesn’t know they’re bats, he just assumes this cause they’re all family and so nice.)
Eventually at the end of the night Bruce asks why they keep asking after Damian’s homelife and safety- what makes them so concerned? Danny just spills the beans: 
“I’ve met a lot of undead in my day, but Damian was brought back to life in a way I’m still trying to understand. Like Jason? Easy peasy, got dipped in the green stuff. Damian? So Strange. Plus like the kid is like 15, it took me until 14 to die the first time but I had a portal to another dimension under my house and he lives in a mansion.” 
Chaos. 
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astraystayyh · 10 months
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Invisible thread- one
pairing : minho x reader
genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.
warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.
summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?
word count : 20k
Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)
part two
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You have always been first in your class.
Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.
You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 
A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 
Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.
At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.
You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 
You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 
On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 
You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  
That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 
Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.
You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.
So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.
But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.
Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.
It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.
And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 
"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."
Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 
"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"
Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."
You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 
That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.
He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 
Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 
"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  
"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 
That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 
He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.
"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"
"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."
"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.
This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.
Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 
Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.
"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
✹✹✹
The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.
Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 
You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. 
"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.
He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."
"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 
From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 
You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.
Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.
But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.
You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.
True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.
During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 
To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.
That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.
Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.
You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.
✹✹✹
Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.
On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.
"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 
"I have an idea."
"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.
"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.
 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."
"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"
"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"
"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.
"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."
"But-"
"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.
"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."
"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  
"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 
"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.
That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.
"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 
"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."
You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 
Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 
Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.
"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.
But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.
Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 
You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  
As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.
That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.
✹✹✹
You came first in your grade this semester.
True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.
So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.
You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.
"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.
"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."
"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."
"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 
"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.
 "Most expensive thing on the menu."
"So you are only here for the food." 
"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 
"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."
"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."
"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"
Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 
"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."
"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.
"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."
Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."
"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."
Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.
"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"
"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."
"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"
"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."
His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"
"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 
"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.
"Purple."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 
"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 
"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."
"You do remind me of navy blue."
"And why is that?"
"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."
You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?
You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"
"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."
"Yellow is carefree and happy."
"Exact. Now your turn, red."
"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."
Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"
"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."
"And right now, how do you feel?"
"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."
"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."
Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"
"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."
"I do too."
You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.
"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.
"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.
"Please tell me you won't be cooking."
"Shut up. What about you?"
"I’d be a dancer."
"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 
"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"
"I just never expected it. Can I-"
"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 
"I didn't even finish."
"I knew what you were going to say."
"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 
"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."
"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."
"Death might be around the corner."
"Stop it."
"Close your door tonight."
"You are deranged."
Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."
Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.
But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 
You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 
Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk
Minho : Poor baby
Yn : Is that you at my door?
Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 
"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.
"It's pitch black, I can't see."
"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 
"What's there to miss?"
"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 
"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 
"Trees can't hurt you."
"No shit Sherlock."
"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 
"Why?"
"I’ll tell you a story."
"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 
"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"
"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"
"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."
"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 
"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."
"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 
"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."
"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 
"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."
Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.
He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.
He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 
You just made his world stop.
✹✹✹
The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.
You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 
You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 
Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.
“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 
“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.
“He likes you! Go talk to him!”
“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”
“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 
“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.
With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 
You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.
You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.
"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.
You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"
"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."
"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.
"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."
"You look nice. Now leave me alone."
"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.
Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.
The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.
You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 
"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.
Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.
He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.
"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.
"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."
"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."
"Next time, don’t stay alone."
“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."
You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"
"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."
"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."
You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 
But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."
"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."
"I’ll ask her."
You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.
"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.
You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.
As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 
"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."
"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."
"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."
"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.
"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"
"I only tell my friends."
"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."
"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.
"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."
"That’s very sweet of you Minho."
"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.
"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.
"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”
Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.
"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.
"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."
"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 
"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."
"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.
"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."
This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.
"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."
"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.
"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.
"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"
"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.
"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.
"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."
You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."
He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"
"But then I’d be lying."
"Asshole."
"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.
You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.
"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."
"Of course. Don't dream of me."
"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.
For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.
✹✹✹
It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 
Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.
That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 
You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 
As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.
But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.
He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.
"Yeah."
"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."
You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 
"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.
"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"
"You'll catch a cold."
"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          
"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."
"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."
"Yn, I don’t-"
"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."
"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."
You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 
You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.
He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.
"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."
You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."
He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."
You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.
Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.
But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.
He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 
Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 
He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 
"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.
"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.
You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.
You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.
You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.
Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.
"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.
"Sure."
You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.
As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.
When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."
✹✹✹
Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.
Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 
And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.
That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.
But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 
That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.
But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.
He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.
"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."
"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 
"Never."
"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."
"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.
Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 
Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 
"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.
"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 
“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.
You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.
This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 
“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 
“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.
“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 
This was something friends think about, right? 
"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.
"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"
"Because it's getting longer."
"But it suits you."
Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?
"I’ll still cut it."
Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.
He didn't cut his hair.
The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.
That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.
He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.
He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-
"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.
"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.
"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.
"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.
You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.
"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.
"Yeah?"
"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.
"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."
"How can I help you feel yellow?"
"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.
“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 
"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.
"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.
Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.
He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 
You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.
✹✹✹
2 months later
"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 
"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."
You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 
"What are you doing?"
"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 
"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 
"And what are you doing?"
"Enjoying the sun."
"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"
"Nope."
"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 
Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 
Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.
It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 
So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 
You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 
It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.
As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 
His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 
"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 
"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 
"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 
"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 
He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?
"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.
"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 
"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 
His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 
✹✹✹
You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 
You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.
Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 
You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 
You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.
You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.
It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 
Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 
You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 
"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 
You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"
"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 
You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."
"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.
"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?
"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?
"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.
 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.
You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"
"it's nothing."
"Yn..."
"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 
Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.
In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."
"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 
"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.
"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 
Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 
"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."
"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 
"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."
"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 
"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 
"Where to?"
"I’m craving ice cream."
"And why do you need me?"
"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 
"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 
True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.
Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.
You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  
You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.
When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 
Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 
"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 
Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 
No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 
You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 
Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 
He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"
"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 
"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 
"Not like that you look scary."
"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 
"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 
'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 
You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 
"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."
"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 
"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.
You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?
You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 
"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.
"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 
Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 
"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 
"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 
"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 
"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 
"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."
"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 
"Yeah."
"Can I ask why?" 
You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 
"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 
"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."
"You didn't," you reply instantly. 
"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"
"I will." 
"Okay." 
"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.
You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 
And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 
Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 
That's four seconds more than the first time. 
Progress.        
✹✹✹
You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 
Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 
You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 
The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 
You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 
You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 
With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 
"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.
You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 
“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 
She deleted your number.
You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 
Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 
Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.
You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.
To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.
"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.
"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."
"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"
"Yn-"
"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.
The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 
Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.
But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-
"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.
You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."
"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."
"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.
"You won't understand."
"Then make me."
"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."
You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 
You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.
Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."
"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.
"Please, let me make it better." 
You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 
Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 
He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 
You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 
The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.
You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.
Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 
Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 
"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.
"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 
"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 
 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.
"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.
"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 
"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."
You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."
"I know."
Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.
In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.
You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 
There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.
"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.
"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."
To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 
"I want to tell you."
"You don't need to."
"I know, but I want to."
"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.
"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.
"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.
"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.
"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"
Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.
"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."
"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."
Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.
"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."
Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.
He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.
But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.
Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.
"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."
His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?
"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.
You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.
Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.
Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."
You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.
You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.
"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."
"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"
"It will take time."
"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.
"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 
"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.
"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."
"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.
"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"
"We do."
"Then make a wish."
You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.
"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.
The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."
Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.
The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.
As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  
You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'
Epilogue
You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  
But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.
And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.
It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.
The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.
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radioactiveinvisible · 2 months
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facts | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: spencer likes facts... and jj. and you like spencer. oh, and it's his birthday. what a beautiful day to be in the bau. genre: sort of (eventually) (maybe) friends to lovers. slow(est) burn. fluff i guess. angst? not really, more like reader-forever-insecure. a/n: hi!, just a reminder that english isn't my first language so i'm so sorry for the mistakes. aaand, that's it. oh!, also, i'm planning on doing little one shots with this au. idk. word count: 1.4k ish previous | next
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It’s barely eight in the morning. It’s also friday. And Spencer’s birthday. He’s turning 24. Statistically, he is part of one of the most populated age groups in the United States. 3.33% doesn't seem like a very high number, but considering the highest percentage is 3.51%, you’d say it’s pretty close. You have learned to see life through facts. Spencer likes them, after all. And you like him, so it only seems fair that you are into facts as well.
The candles flickers once again regardless Spencer’s efforts to turn them off. You smile, bashful at the sight of his frustration, which only grows at Morgan’s teasing. Of course, JJ doesn’t let it scale much more.
“They’re trick candles, Spence, okay?”, JJ explains to him, in a soothing manner. Caringly. “They’re gonna get back on every time”.
Your smile wavers for a second, the nickname leaving an itching scar in your chest that you are quick to hide. You never call Spencer like that. Spence. It seems like steping on someone else’s love. Like stealing something. And you don’t want to do that. So, instead, he’s Spencer to you, Reid long gone forgotten.
“Oh, mommy to the rescue”, Morgan teases, grabbing both sides of Spencer’s hat and shaking them. Another sting flashes through your eyelashes and you blink to get rid of it.
“Mommy?”, Spencer asks, tilting his head.
You laugh along with the others, not because you’re laughing at Spencer, but because you don’t how else to eliminate the little pressure on your lungs. So you laugh to relieve it. While JJ cuts the cake, Elle tells Spencer that she “hopes he likes chocolate”. You bite your tongue to avoid answering that it’s his favourite flavor. Actually, when the two of you run your usual Dr. Who marathons and buy half a dozen donuts as munition, you purposefully avoid those one with chocolate frost. Because you know they’re his favourite. Eventually, Spencer, ever a good profiler, realized that chocolate frost donuts were your favourite as well, so he changed the order and now your half dozen it’s all the same flavor. Suddenly, your laugh has morphed into a nostalgic echo.
You decide you need air, so you take a few steps away. Your resolve to not see him beyond a friend suffered a crack from the moment you made it. So, you conceded. Best friend. That should be enough. The new margin, however, is useless against the intensity of your emotions. Your year on the team has only brought the two of you closer, so you shouldn’t be too surprised when Gideon stops you. After all, you are leaving Spencer’s side on his birthday.
“Where are you going? They hadn’t serve the cake yet”, Gideon jokes, looking at you like he knows all your secrets. Maybe he does. But you really hope he doesn’t.
“Well- I was just going to call Garcia”, the lie rolls out your tongue smoothly and you smile to prove your point, like showing your teeth is like showing your thoughts.
“Mmm”, Hotch nods before getting called by Anderson.
Gideon just stares at you and you become nervous. He and Hotch scares you the most. Because you do believe that they are able to read you. And it’s not something you want them to do. You are about to speak again when Gideon’s gaze focus on someone behind you. You don’t have to turn to know who it is.
“Having fun?”, Gideon asks.
“Yes. Definitely. I’m definitely having fun”, Spencer’s voice is flat. Almost sarcastic and you chuckle at that. He might have some trouble on catching other’s sarcasm, but that doesn’t mean he is unable to be snarky himself.
“Make a wish?”, you fire back, facing him now.
He gives you one of his private smiles. And you melt.
“Can I take this hat off?”
“I wouldn’t”, Gideon answers.
Spencer nods and looks directly at you. Like every time he does that, you narrow your eyes at him. It is an instant response out of habit. It was only your first week on the team when you found him looking at you curiously. Until now you don’t really know why he was doing it. The only thing you had done all day was sit in front of him filling out paperwork. So of course you narrowed your eyes and he just shrugged before giving you his lip-line smile as the only answer. Since then, whether you’re in the office or a police precinct, or even just illuminated by the TV screen in his living room, Spencer finds moments to look at you. And you to narrow your gaze. It has become almost a competition. See who can stand the other’s gaze the longest without laughing. You’re not going to lie, you usually lose.
Right now, you are in the middle of a battle. You feel the corners of your lips rise and you know you're dangerously close to smiling. Which, for Spencer, is enough to make him smile too. However, you are saved by the perfect blonde-haired bell.
“Hey, Spence”, JJ calls him, “first piece for the birthday boy”.
When Spencer looks back at you, there’s a new gleam in his eyes and his cheeks are flushed. You tuck a strand of non-existent hair behind your ear. He nods and makes to return to his desk, but steps back before moving forward.
“You know she’s the only person in the whole world who calls me ‘Spence’?”, he tells with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, like he just discovered the moon in that nickname. Like he just realized the honey that wrap those syllabes.
Yeah, you want to answer, I know.
You contemplate how Spencer akwardly shuffles around JJ before sitting on his desk again. That electric nervousness that you know well, because you feel it every time you see him. The adrenaline rush. And as much as Spencer likes facts, you wonder if he likes JJ more. You clear your throath and try to shake the insecurities crawling on you.
“I’m, uh, gonna get Garcia some cake”, you tell to Gideon.
You don’t look Spencer in the eye when JJ hands you two pieces of cake and you turn away without sharing another politely laugh. You make sure to walk at the same speed as always and control your breathing the entire way to Penelope's office. At first, you found some comfort in her because you mistakenly believed she could understand you. Because of Morgan. But only after a couple of weeks you realized that your situation was nothing like hers. Still, you keep refuging yourself in her office when Spencer’s presence becomes too much. Of course, she doesn’t know that. And since she’s the only non-profiler, you feel a little safer letting your guard down for a moment.
“Gaaaarcia”, you sing, cracking her door open, “I come with gifts”.
“Oh! You are a sweet angel, my beautiful and totally favorite profiler”, Garcia says, taking one of disposable plates off your hands.
You laugh without the heaviness on your chest for the first time on the day. “I’ll make sure to tell Morgan that, you know”.
“Tell Morgan what?”, Spencer asks, standing on the doorframe.
You are a little taken aback, enough to make you speechless. Wh-? When did he-?
“That she’s my favorite agent”, Garcia shrugs, licking the chocolate out off her rings.
“Yup”, finally you say when you recover your voice. “Is everything alright?”, you give him a concerned glance.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t be?”
“Well… you are here. Instead of, well, your birthday”, you explain him slowly.
“Oh. Right”, he nods, like he just remembered that it’s his birthday. “Actually, we were called in. Hotch is waiting for us in the meeting room”.
Oh. Of course.
“But you just got here!”, Garcia pouts and you can’t help but laugh. God, you love this woman.
“And we’re going to get back just as fast”, you answer smiling warmly at her while waving.
Spencer holds the door open for you and before closing it he gives his own wave to Garcia.
“I’m sorry, you know”, you say wholehearted. “For getting called in your birthday”.
“It’s not your fault, is it?”, Spencer smiles. “And besides, it doesn’t bother me. So you don’t have to feel sorry.”
“Actually, did you know that sorry used to be sarig in Old English and meant ‘distressed, grieved, full of sorrow’?” you perk up, unable to motion with your hands while talking because of the cake between them.
Spencer’s lips twitch into a smile.
“You did know that, of course”, you laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know why I keep trying”.
“Actually”, Spencer says, taking the cake off your hands so he can finish it, “you should tell Morgan that you are my favorite agent as well”.
tags: @mirdnightmass @monstrosityinside
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jaeminvore · 4 months
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Young God | L.DH (M)
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SYNOPSIS: desperation had this funny way of skewing one’s perception, and since you were, in fact, way past the point of desperation, it wasn’t a surprise that you jumped the gun without even questioning the absurdly cheap rent price of the seemingly perfect apartment unit. What you failed to consider was the reason why it didn't cost you and arm and a legand it soon came in the form of an incubus in your bathroom belting his heart out on a Sunday morning.
(alternatively: in which you were essentially scammed into cohabiting with a ridiculously clingy demon that lives off of sex. It could be worse. At least he staved off from sucking your soul out in exchange of you sucking something else—among other things).
GENRE: supernatural, urban fantasy, college au, slice of life, humor, rom-com, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut (full warnings under the cut! Please read them).
WORD COUNT: 35K
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. incubus!hyuck, afab!human!reader, mild horror elements, mild blood and gore, crude language and jokes, some lore sprinkled here and there, none of these people have brain-to-mouth filters, bickering (as a love language or foreplay. you decide), egregious use of the em dash, cooking as a love language, wet dreams, dry-humping, handjobs, oral sex, face-fucking, masturbation, Jaemin, mild allusions to exhibitionism, mentions of edging, squirting, mc gets a little roughed up by another demon, hyuck kills said demon (as he should). unprotected sex (please practice safe sex unlike these two), creampie, tentacles (LISTEN. it’s not that bad I promise! They’re more like glorified ropes made of smoke if anything, but if you’re uncomfy with the idea but still want to read until the end, the passage starts at “Oh that feels weird” and ends with “You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,”)
NOTE: i fought hyuck-shaped demons writing this fic so please please pleaseeee lemme know what you think! do not let the warnings fool you, this is actually cuter and funnier than it should be despite the sexual undertones lmao 😭 All this came to life from pure self-indulgence and some of the dialogues that startled me awake on most of my nights lol.
PLAYLIST: Young God by Halsey — Eyes Roll by (G)I-DLE — Pretzel (♡) by NCT Dream — Galipette (BIBI Remix) by Lolo Zouaï and BIBI — Sunshine Of Your Love by Cream —Tastes So Good — Sabrina Claudio
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“I’m the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon. There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs and if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight.” — Young God by Halsey
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I.
The first red flag you should have picked up on was the ridiculously cheap rent price.
Which, given the circumstances, was almost unheard of in the current hellish state of the economy and being part of the lower income bracket. Safe to say you were this close to ripping your own hair out when you were notified of your rent’s increase in price. You could barely afford it and you sure as hell won't be able to now.
Life simply picked its favorites and it was unfortunate that you weren’t part of the silver-spooned minority playing the life game on ‘very easy’ mode. Thus began a very desperate search for a place. A dorm? Apartment? Bed-space? Literally anything. Hell, you’d even consider coach-surfing! You weren’t picky, and you sure as Hell weren’t in the position to demand even an ounce of luxury anyway.
So long as you had a roof above your head, you’d take anything.
Though it seemed that the level of desperation rolling off of you in waves was enough to take some sort of effect.
You had no clue what exactly you should call it (divine intervention?), but perhaps there was little power from projecting your urgency along with the rest of the piled up negativity onto the world to the point it pitied you; listened to your misery that a few days later, right when you were on the precipice of calling it quits and leaving your life in the hands of God, a miracle disguised as one of your classmates for an elective brought up a fairly recent vacancy from her apartment complex.
“If it’s anything like the unit Chaewon and I have, I think you’ll like it.” Yunjin reassured, smiling down at you from her perch on the desk. “Plus, it would be nice to have a familiar face around.”
Worrying about whether the place would fit your tastes or not was the last thing on your mind when you were a breath away from filing bankruptcy (could you even afford that?). It had come to a point where you’d be open to anything that all inhibitions and the ever present skepticism you’d usually have hanging around your head were promptly thrown out of the window because:
Huh Yunjin was not only a classmate, but also a friend.
Biases were a thing, so anything Yunjin said was deemed credible on all accounts by you.
You. Were. Desperate. Did you mention that?
And—look, desperation does funny things to your mind. Skewing your perception, for example, or maybe it was a thing exclusive to you because who lets themselves be labeled as ‘colorblind’ (theoretically) after mistaking firetruck red from verdant green?
The answer: you, duh. Though in your defense, promising anyone with a price that affordable would immediately have them fold, never mind the possible consequences that could follow.
Humans were fickle. Humans were simple as they were complex. Temptation came easiest to those who were in a near hopeless state, and you were very human to your core, stepping out of the lecture hall with Yunjin’s landlord’s phone number saved to your list of contacts, feeling heaps lighter than you did this morning.
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Statistics showed that it was less likely for women to be colorblind.
It was also said that women were able to identify more colors than men, so it was quite telling that you’ve managed to consistently ignore every single glaring red-flag so far. Might as well be part of the statistics if this keeps up. Theoretically speaking.
(Family history made it impossible for you to have it. Your recognition of colors was no less than perfect. It was just a ‘you’ problem. Not to mention the non-existent survival instinct).
Though, there were some details that really made you think. And by some, you meant your landlord—correction, landlady, as Ms. Hong chided over the phone.
Ms. Hong was a woman well in her mid forties with a taste for anything glamorous. Slender fingers adorned with rings made of gold and wrists chained with the same metal among a few silver glimmering pieces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when polite greetings weaved seamlessly into pleasant small-talk, lasting long enough until you brought up the newly available apartment unit. Things took an odd turn then, with Ms. Hong skirting around, hesitant and vague when it came to answering your questions about the apartment.
It was all sorts of strange, now that you thought about it. Unlike Ms. Hong, your previous landlords had the tendency to overcompensate for the lackluster charm of their apartments. Promising to improve whatever that needed to be improved and then downplaying all the current issues that could have been classified as a health violation. All for the sake of milking you dry of your savings.
On that note, you couldn’t exactly tell if Ms. Hong even wanted to rent out the unit or not. You were no stranger to money-hungry landlords who would jump at the opportunity, yet the older woman’s tone was rather gravely when she listed down the possible expenses. Her lack of enthusiasm was becoming a bit too disconcerting, to say the least, that you had to cut her off from her tangent as soon as you felt the agitation creep up, emphasizing how this was a matter of life and death for you.
Begging would have been your last trump card if the landlady didn’t budge, but it seemed that the trembling in your voice finally shook her out of whatever bizarre headspace she was in that the sudden emergence of charisma that could belong to a representative trying to scam you into joining a pyramid scheme was strangely comforting.
That was another thing that flew over your head: the complete 180 in demeanor, completely blinded by Ms. Hong’s eagerness having you view the unit at your earliest convenience. 
Ten AM on Sunday morning.
That was your earliest convenience. Also your day-off and the one of many chances spent rotting away on an equally rotting mattress. It was a way to relax, but if it meant you’d be (hopefully) parting ways with your current shitty apartment and the shitty mattress that came with it, then by all means you could forget pretending to not exist for a few hours.
Though you couldn’t say you were optimistic. With your renting history, optimism had no room in your life when all you were left with was disappointment from the barely decent rooms you’ve been in and for sure, Ms. Hong would do just the same. It really wouldn’t be the first time. Certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 
But by some unexplained miracle, the outcome was quite the contrary, actually, and for the first time in your adult life, you were starting to see the light at the end of the longest tunnel you have ever been in.
Citrus and vanilla.
That particular scent was what greeted you first as you stepped into the unit which was already a thousand times better than what horrors you were used to and you thought it fit the earthy palette of cream, beige and green. The most surprising thing was that the unit looked to be fully furnished right from the kitchen to the bedroom and lord—the mattress was actually so comfortable that it took a lot of your self-control and the reminder of your (future) landlady waiting to not actually fall asleep.
But it wouldn’t hurt to indulge yourself a little, now would it?
Rolling over, you press your face into the linen sheets, humming in delight at the pleasant waft of freshly dried laundry. It smelt like home, It felt like home and you would definitely regret passing up the opportunity of moving here.
Years of hopping from one place to another, you never had the chance to feel at home. Not when your mind was a permanent whirlwind of worries that just didn’t seem to end no matter how much you tried to deal with them. It hasn’t entirely stopped, but you liked to think you were getting better at keeping them at bay.
One thing that caught your interest was that the sweet and tangy scent was particularly strong here. It wasn’t unpleasant, but a little overwhelming, wrinkling your nose at the intensity of vanilla. Then came the strong urge to look to your right and there you saw a candle in a glass jar burning away on the end table.
Huh, you never noticed that on your way in.
Ms. Hong sure knew how to give a warm welcome, a scented candle of all things. Although you weren’t exactly a fan of the smokey smell that would later stick to your hair and clothes, you appreciated the small gesture nonetheless. And sweet as it was, you were more cautious than to prolong your gratitude.
Risking the possibility of burning the entire unit before you could even sign the lease was the last thing you wanted and without thinking, you blew the flame out.
There was no time to doubt. This was—”everything I’ve been looking for.”
Ms. Hong blinked as you emerged from the inside.
“I’ll take it, but are you serious about the price? It’s fully furnished. Decorated beautifully too.”
All the cool nonchalance the woman displayed prior disappeared in an instant, standing tall and stiff as you watched her open and close her mouth before settling on a croaky, “come again?”
The reaction was strange, but you answered anyway. “It’s fully furnished,” you repeated. “Wouldn’t that, like, increase my rent?”
“What do you—what does it look like in there?”
“Something close to what you’d see on Architectural Digest,” you joked then went into detail about how everything seemed to fit the Pinterest board you’ve made—affectionately named ‘home <3’—and kept on updating since freshman year. It was a little eerie, now that you think about it. How the unit was catered specifically to your tastes.
It was comfortable and cozy. Cozy in a way that screamed slow Sundays of melting your brain with soap operas and endless looping of your daily music playlist to your heart's content. Comfortable in a sense where you wouldn’t mind being cooped up in here for hours on end.
Like you’ve said, it was no doubt everything you wanted in a home.
Though a part of you was a little rattled by how spooked Ms. Hong appeared. A mass of emotions crossed her face as you talked until her expression flattened into something unreadable, remaining tense with her posture despite the smile pulling at the corners of her full mouth.
“Are you okay, Ms. Hong?” You asked anyway. You figured it would give you brownie points, showing a little bit of concern. There could be some advantages to being the favorite tenant.
“Yes, yes!” She waved you off. “Nothing to worry about. I was just a little nervous that you wouldn’t like the place. Clearly, I thought wrong.” Ms. Hong laughed, maybe a little forced, but your spirits were too high for you to overthink it. 
“Honestly? I wasn’t expecting much, but I love it! I would move in today if I could, but I still have to pack.” Not that you had much to begin with when the apartment had what you needed, furniture wise, but you still had your personal belongings and it was close to sunset too.
Ms. Hong nodded solemnly, tilting her head and appearing thoughtful. “Good… good. And you’re absolutely certain that you want to move in?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
Going the poetic route seemed to be enough for Ms. Hong, wasting no time guiding you into her office to take care of the paperwork. The price remained the same, even with your insistence of increasing it for the sake of fairness, but your landlady (for real this time!) wasn’t having it and silently handed over the keys with a keychain where ‘66’ was inscribed on the golden plate, matching what was drilled into the paneled door.
You still couldn’t believe it, really. That you’ve managed to score a charming place within your price range and if the mixture of happiness and relief wasn’t already obvious enough from your cheek-aching smile alone, Ms. Hong didn’t dare comment on it, other than the amused huff she let out, watching you shake in anticipation.
Excitement was a rare emotion to feel these days, not when the weight of college and your part-time job rested on your shoulders, and maybe it was that very reason why the said excitement easily seeped into the questions your landlady had the patience to answer. You’ve never felt this light in a long time and something about the twinkle in Ms. Hong’s eyes said that she understood just as much.
However, the sentiment soon faded as quick as it came; you would have missed it if it weren’t for Ms. Hong calling out your name.
“Do me a favor, would you, honey?”
“Sure,” You looked over your shoulder, gaze inquisitive as the door handle twisted. The woman’s face was drawn into something serious, hands folded properly on her desk. “What is it?”
“Be careful.”
You would have laughed if it weren’t for the intensity in her eyes, and with how she spoke, it left no openings for a light joke. Two words that should have been taken at face value felt like there was more to it. You just didn’t know what.
Perhaps it was a customary thing. A reminder to each of her tenants to not cause trouble for her or anyone? Yeah, that could be it.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
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Third time was definitely not the charm because how could you miss another clear warning? Ms. Hong’s nails were red too for fuck’s sake! That should have counted for something!
In your defense, with how well the first week was in apartment 66, no one could blame the carefree attitude now that you had a place that was safe and didn’t check every health violation by the book. Inviting friends over was easier, now that you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself and your visitors for subjecting them to lounge in a barely habitable space.
Yunjin seemed very proud of herself, being the very reason why you were even here in the first place and she truly deserved the extra volume of wine poured into her glass, much to Chaewon’s chagrin. She quickly perked up when you offered her a variety of sweet treats you got on sale, thanking you with a smile just as sweet.
It felt liberating to come home to a place that exuded the warmth you needed right after a long, grueling day of academics, tutoring sessions and your shift at the hotpot restaurant a few blocks away from campus.
Other than your bed, the couch was another place where you’d occasionally try your very hardest to melt into and not think about your existence. If you wanted to be more productive, the small balcony you transformed into a mini nursery for herbs and smaller fruits and vegetables was there to keep you busy. The little gardening hobby went hand-in-hand with the nice kitchen. You finally had enough space to dance around amidst the prepping and cooking you had to do.
You were, quite literally, living the life.
Life has never tasted so sweet and it took only a week at most to make it look like you had your life together; as if you were one of those people on Tiktok who seemingly had their lives figured out based on their minute-long vlogs.
However, there was clearly a time limit to your peace, it being violently ripped away from you as the second week came around. Then did you start experiencing… things.
Strange things, to be exact and it took a lot to scare you.
There were a multitude of things to be frightened of for sure, but you were someone who’d been able to grow some resistance to them as you got older; thought that it’d be a waste to grow wary of the things that would normally creep people out, living alone. It wasn’t in your nature. Not when you miraculously survived being on your own so far, so what was left for you to be scared of?
That was what past-you would have said but for some reason, the world had this unwavering fixation on going against whatever you stood for because this current situation was an entirely different ballpark. 
And not finding any scientific explanation to back up the sudden disturbance in apartment 66 was what scared you. 
Sure, the smart thing was to raise it as a concern to your landlady, but when it came to weighing your options, you didn’t think the gripes and concerns for the place would be serious enough to be a problem for Ms. Hong to solve. Especially when it wasn’t exactly a maintenance issue.
Let’s be real here, do you think Ms. Hong would be able to do something about the things that go bump in the night? No. You wouldn’t think so. Unless she was able to shapeshift into a cat, going after the rat behind all the thudding, creaking and annoying scratching that woke you up in the middle of the night.
(You realized how utterly insane that train of thought sounded, so that was immediately scratched off. Shapeshifting? Really? That’s one way of letting someone assume you were high on something).
Normally, these hiccups were menial enough to ignore, rolling over to the cooler side of bed and quickly knocking out. Being a nightly problem? It’s a miracle you hadn’t torn down the dry walls yourself to look for the rats and deal with them. Only, you didn’t think the little critters were capable of producing such loud footsteps.
And that wasn’t even the last of it.
Things disappearing and then reappearing at the weirdest of places—house keys in the toilet sink, phone in the microwave and, mortifyingly enough, panties in the cupboards, to which has happened on multiple occasions, leaving you more irritated than scared, actually.
(There were some times where it had been useful though. Like when you were running late to first period and, lo and behold, your house keys and phone were waiting for you on the little nook just beside the door. Or having a fresh pair of socks laid out innocently next to your sneakers. Little things for your convenience for sure that it warranted a hesitantly muttered ‘thank you’ to the air despite being freaked out).
On the same note as ‘things going bump and scratch in the night’, hearing voices became a regular thing, too. There should be a joke written in there somewhere. How it was just your inner monologue increasing volume each night from the stress, but the disembodied voice said otherwise and you knew damn well your daily monologue did not comprise creative threats to your life and soul.
Hearing voices meant that there was, possibly, something else festering in the four walls of your home.
You didn’t feel as alone anymore, and that wasn’t you being all sappy or poetic. You could actually sense that there was an unspecified presence lurking in the shadows of apartment 66, like you were being watched. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen movement from your peripheral too, but for once, from what little remnants of survival instinct you had, you refused to fuck around and find out.
Those were damning signs that told you to leave. Anyone in their right mind would simply book it the soonest they could. And perhaps you had a few loose screws up there, because no one considered normal would manage through all the disturbances, and Hell if you were the one moving out. You fell in love with the place and the hauntings won’t ever change that.
Hauntings. God. You’ve truly lost it. What’s next, a 2023 remake of Casper The Friendly (?) Ghost? Could be. You were still very much alive and that could count as a ‘friendly’ gesture, ignoring the piling grievances.
But then you started having these dreams and you could guarantee that nothing was remotely friendly about what your brain routinely conjured during your slumber: the same dream over and over again.
Same bedroom setting. Same faceless man—seemingly made out of shadows—hovering over you, his weight keeping you from doing anything but squirm each time he leaned in close, whispering—hissing filthy promises as threats of eating you alive after swallowing your soul soon to be damned in Hell with each bite of his words.
And tonight wasn’t any different.
“Not resisting anymore, are you?”
Wait.
That’s new. Not the whole talking thing because the one thing that remained consistent was that this… entity couldn’t for the life of him shut the fuck up, nor could you smother him into silence yourself, minding the Herculean strength he exhibited in having you pinned down.
No, but his voice had character, now that the disembodied filter he had on the majority of the time was absent, leaving you to bask in the high, airy-smooth voice that would have been considered sweet if it weren’t for the fact that its owner showed otherwise through his actions.
How can I when I can’t fucking move? Was what you wanted to say, but it came out as a strangled mess of noises.
It’s always been a gamble. Your dreams, that is and you could never tell which bodily function you could lose in them. Tonight, you were certain that you could neither talk nor move, much to the figure’s absolute delight and this whole thing kind of painted him as your designated sleep paralysis demon.
The demon (maybe) nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “You smell delicious.” You could feel him shudder in anticipation, breath hot against your skin from the shaky exhale as he pulled back to stare you down. Or at least you think he did. You couldn’t tell. Other than the twin ruby red glow from where his eyes would have been, his entirety was bathed in absolute darkness.
“Interesting little thing, you are,” he crooned, “usually, any other human would be out the door the moment they could sense me. They’re so easy to scare, humans.” An icy chill ran down your spine at the laugh he let out. Deceptively soft and breathy if you weren’t reminded of your position—this thing straight out of nightmares being bracketed by your thighs. This was all so fucked.
Something akin to a purr rumbled from within him, pleased at the fact that you couldn’t do anything but lay there, unmoving. “You, on the other hand, stayed. Longer than what I had initially expected and lucky for you, I’m beginning to like having you around.”
Cool. So he liked you. Cool. Great. Amazing even.
What the fuck did that even mean?
Were you supposed to be relieved by that? Because it was the last thing you should be feeling in this compromising position. Which then begged the question: did it mean you get to live to see another day? You’d hope so because dying in your dream and inevitably IRL would fucking suck. You haven’t even stayed for that long and your death would be such a waste of money, really.
There it was again. Citrus and vanilla.
Now that you thought about it, this particular aroma was always present. Muted on some days, like a barely there trace of day-old perfume on clothes, and not so pleasant on others, including tonight—strong as this demon (surely) leaned further into your space. Hips pushed down, down, down with purpose as the sickeningly sweet scent increased in intensity, like he was using it to break your resolve, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 
His determination didn’t seem to wane in the slightest from your display of stubbornness, only spurring him on further as his large, warm palms settled on your waist, giving an appreciative squeeze. As if fascinated by how solid you felt in his grip. You, however, were absolutely terrified of how solid he was. How this felt so real that you couldn’t stand being underneath the blood-red glare of his eyes.
The demon let out a huff of amusement the moment you screwed your eyes shut.
All of this was just a dream. A sick twisted dream—a nightmare. Soon as you get yourself to wake up, he’ll be gone. You’ll be free.
“Is it?” He tittered, “a dream? I don’t know, this feels all too real to me, human. Surely you can feel this?” You gasped. Shit. He had claws, digging into the soft skin of your waist. Apply more pressure and you were sure he’d end up breaking through the flesh and leave you bleeding to your very death.
He leaned in closer. Not like he was already too close for comfort before. “Feel me?”
Oh, fuck.
It’s like a sick fucking joke, really. The fact that the time where you truly had a grasp on your vocal chords, you let out the first sound of the night: a moan—followed by a continuous string of them prompted by the thick and hot something pressing incessantly against your crotch with each roll of his hips.
“There we go,” he drawled, lips brushing against the little space underneath the hinge of your jaw, your pulse at its strongest. “You were easier to play with in all your other dreams before, but it’s not like I don’t enjoy a bit of a challenge from a stubborn little thing like you. Let’s see what other sounds you can make, yes?”
He was dead set on pulling them out of you, too, settling on a rhythm that would let his length—straining against what you could assume was skin-tight boxer briefs—drag over your clit covered by thin cotton panties. He made use of his hands too; leaving warm trails of his touch along your skin, like he was leaving traces of himself, branding you his.
It was maddening, to say the least. That even in your dreams, you were still able to feel the rush of pleasure in its purest form thrumming underneath your skin just begging to be let out.
And if that wasn’t enough to wind you up, the same pair of hands curiously traced the bottom hem of your camisole before pushing it up, up, up and exposing your chest to your audience of one. He lets out this satisfied sound, a groan almost and tapering off into gentle cooing; gentle as his hands were in fondling your tits.
If you could move, then the smack he would have gotten from you was well deserved. Men were so easy. Show them your boobs and it’s pretty much all they care about until you stray their attention elsewhere. His dutifully remained on your heaving chest, however, and if you could see, you were sure he would be licking his lips, satisfied with himself as he bent his head.
Holy shit. You were going to die. You were going to be eaten, and then die.
The cry you let out was enough proof that you finally finally had gotten control of your voice; crying out from the sensation of impossibly sharp rows of teeth nibbling on your right nipple, already sensitive from the demon’s tongue laving around the bud. Taking it entirely in between unimaginably soft lips and suckling harshly that your body didn’t know whether to bow against the bed so he could take in more, or pull away from all of this being too much for your senses to bear.
“Aren’t you so cute?” He cooed the moment he unlatched from your other tit, subjecting it to the same treatment and his cock still rutting slowly but firmly against your clothed slit, earning him a drawn out whine. There’s a hand wrapped around your throat now, and you gasped at the pinpricks his claws left. “You make the sweetest of sounds, darling girl.” He said this as leaned in so close that his lips brushed against yours with every syllable.
“I can’t wait ‘til your soul is mine.” and there was no mistaking it; the drag of sharp teeth just below your jaw raised goosebumps across your skin.
Panic immediately swelled in your chest just as you regained full control of your body, smacking his hands away for your fingers to tangle into his hair and push him as far as your arm would let you, heart beating so wildly that it’s a miracle it hadn’t cracked your rib cage. Oh well, small miracles and whatnot.
It looked like he wasn’t at all expecting you to fight back. You thought so too, with his overpowering scent almost lulling you into compliance and, again, the unimaginable strength he had keeping you in place. Catching him off-guard was the smartest thing you’ve done so far into halting the all-consuming dreams—nightmares that all he did was stay still and it’s exactly what you needed.
“Get out!”
You woke up with a sharp intake of breath.
Your hand was still up in the air, fist clenched and arguably at the same height where it was originally resting stiffly on top of the entity’s head. Knees the same as they were before; bent and parted wide enough to accommodate his figure, and let’s not forget your ‘tits out’ situation because your tits, were in fact, still out. How vivid was that dream exactly?
The entirety of your room didn’t look out of place, minus the duvet, thankfully. Probably got kicked down from how you struggled in the nightmare. It was a rather chilly night—the slow beginnings of autumn, so you pulled it back up (right after you fixed your camisole) and settled comfortably underneath the softness of the covers for the second time of the night.
Your eyes slipped close.
“Oh? Going back to sleep already? How rude!”
Your eyes immediately snapped open.
What the fuck.
Nothing could have prepared you from finding a fully grown man sat like a fucking gargoyle at the foot of your bed. Knees bent with his hands right in between them, clutching the cotton tightly in between his fingers, judging by how his grip pulled onto your duvet. You pulled on it too, not willing to expose yourself at this time, and just because you were still petty enough in your sleepy state. You were cold, dammit.
No words were exchanged. No one moved either, but you did spend a long time just sizing each other up as if daring the other to do something. It was still too dark for you to make out his features, the only source of light being the full moon at its brightest which wasn’t much of help.
The thing tilted his head. “Hi!”
You were too tired for this. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“No, wait!” It took everything to not scream bloody murder when he hastily crawled towards the space beside you and sat on his calves, “I’m a demon.”
What? Like that made any difference.
“This is a dream.” It’s got to be because there was no way the man in your dreams was able to materialize right in front of you, claiming he was one of Hell’s spawn. He sounded like him, hell, he smelt like him, but the sheer ridiculousness of the turn of events made it a little hard for you to believe that this isn’t just a tamer, sleep-induced hallucination.
“No it’s not!”
You stared at him with narrowed eyes. Is it just you, or did he sound… whiny? Anyway, “yes, it is.” You groped around before grasping onto your stuffed bear’s limbs. If he doesn’t shut up right now then you’ll do it yourself.
Again, too dark to see his face, but you can just tell he was scowling. “Says who?”
“Me. Goodbye!” And you smacked him in the face with the stuffed toy so hard that he ended up toppling off of your bed with startled yelp. Your eyes slipped close again, pleased.
What a weird fucking dream.
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II.
There was someone in your home.
In the bathroom, to be specific.
The trip to the morning farmer’s market didn’t even take that long. Thirty minutes at most to get what you needed for a hearty meal, and yet it was enough for someone to break in, apparently (in broad daylight too! Do people have no shame?) So much for living in one of the safest parts of the city. The advertisements were total bullshit.
Though, you actually weren’t sure if this was better. That it was something or someone tangible disrupting the peace and not the occasional, domineering presence you’ve grown used to. You had to admit, it was kind of funny that hogging the shower was next on their agenda after trespassing. Usually, it was followed by either burglary or first degree murder, but hey, who were you to judge?
It didn’t look like they’ll be out any time soon. What with the passionate rendition of Michael Jackson’s (may his soul rest in peace) ‘Rock With You’—complete with adlibs and all—you’d be lucky if they chose to stay in there and raise your water bill up to immeasurable heights.
At least a bunch of knives stuck to a magnetic rack was within reach if all goes to shit, but you still hoped that you wouldn’t have to draw blood first.
Leaving the stew to boil, you plopped onto the couch with as much grace as a newborn giraffe, sitting in a way where you directly faced the bathroom in case of the possible brawl you might push yourself into due to your lack of survival instincts, apparently.
Yet even with the forewarning, you weren’t exactly prepared to face who or what was on the other side of the bathroom door.
Your breath hitched at the sound of the door unlocking, followed by the click of the light switch and, for some reason, you had your gaze set resolutely at the bottom half of the door. The door opened and a tan leg popped out, and then another and—Jesus, how long do these legs go? Seriously, it should be illegal to have legs as long as that, having felt as if your eyes scanned like… miles upon miles of tan—
Right. This was an intruder in your home.
A man to be exact, and he had the gall to mirror your own shell-shocked face as if you were the one who broke in.
Though, you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous. Inhumanly so as you took a closer look at his face. Sun-kissed all over as if the big ball of fire in the sky decided it wanted a human counterpart. Waves of dark hair fell just shy above his waterline and framing a pair of wide, darkened amber eyes (is that eyeliner?) burning with as much curiosity you had amidst your fight or flight response kicking in. He kind of fit the ‘tall, dark and mysterious’ archetype that BookTok lovers—er, loved, but there was very little mystery to be intrigued by. Not when his thoughts, feelings and intentions bled so opaquely on his face.
Amusement tilted every angle of his features, namely his sleepy eyes and heart-shaped lips. If you possessed half a brain, you would have thought he was harmless, yet the hair-raising grin that broke out on his face told you otherwise, making you bristle.
“Now where’d you run off to this early in the morning?”
You gritted your teeth, feeling a vein pulse on your temple. That voice.
Pretty privilege could be addressed next time because at this very second, you weren’t feeling privileged being graced by the so-called prettiness, but threatened to even fully appreciate what he’s got going for him. Physically wise.
Without thinking, your hand shot out to grab the closest thing to you, an empty vase, and hurled it with all you’ve got, aiming straight for the intruder’s face who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. It was like watching everything in slow motion, how the decorative piece took its sweet time to smack his face and hopefully break his nose (best case scenario).
This was the worst case scenario, with the vase pausing in mid-air as if time just decided to stop being a thing, all in this demon’s favor.
You were actually going insane. That was the only explanation because no law of physics could explain the current state of the decorative vase—it’s still in the fucking air. Holy shit—nor did you think telekinesis could extend beyond the old, generic trick of bending spoons with your mind.
“Hey,” As if you weren’t terrified enough, the stranger peeked from one of the vase’s sides with a disapproving pout. You scooted further away until your back hit the arm rest. “I picked this out for you, y’know? Thought you’d like it.” With a lazy flick of his wrist the vase ended up floating all the way into the kitchen, much to your horror, to sit on top of the refrigerator.
“Maybe we shouldn’t throw things next time?”
Your eyes flickered towards him, dumbfounded.
“You… last night,” There really was no mistaking it. The voice already told you enough. It was all too distinct; the arrogance, the grating inflection that screamed he solely existed to get on your nerves, and it was working. “In my dream. That was you?”
“Wasn’t just last night, little human. I’ve been in all of your dreams since you moved here.” He shrugged, leaning laxly against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You were way nicer in them. Pliant,” he had two fingers up to prove whatever point he was making. “didn’t throw things at me,” and there goes the third finger.
Smoke was practically coming out of your ears as you sat up straighter, tense. “Oh, I’m sorry!” One of your hands flew to your chest, tone high and mocking. “I didn’t know I had to show proper etiquette to a fucking trespasser!” You scrambled for your phone. “Now, please leave or I will call the police—”
It happened all too fast. Too fast for your human brain to comprehend because just a second ago, you were really serious about involving the police in this. Now, you were flat on your back with the wind knocked right out of you and a lap full of the man plaguing most of your nights. The atmosphere felt heavier, now that the kittenish air surrounding him was gone and the very corner of his lips tilted down into a frown as he plucked your phone out of your hand.
“First thing’s first, no police. You won’t get rid of me that way. Second, this is my”— he pointed to himself —“home. My apartment. I was just nice enough to let you stay for how long you liked.”
“I paid for this unit you—you demon!” You didn’t even try to be subtle with the eye-rolling. Of course he would preen at the title. “If anything, it’s my apartment!”
“Okay? I tied a piece of me down to this place. My sigil is somewhere around here to prove it—meaning, I have higher authority.”
A sigil. Of course. This is your life now. Possibly sharing a space with a fucking demon of all things. Exciting, but not exciting enough to stave off your hunger and you were starting to get antsy. You were just arguing for the sake of arguing to blow off some steam and to get in the last word.
“I signed a lease. The lease has my name on it.” you said as if that was on par with whatever he was talking about (probably not).
“Technically, I signed away a part of my life, so.”
Fuck. Fine. He got you there.
“Are you always going to do this?” You resigned, wriggling underneath his weight. “You’re kinda heavy.”
“I mean, if it works, right?” The demon giggled, tilting his head with a coy smile as he put more weight onto your thighs, one hand falling behind to rest on your knee. “It’s not like you complained before.”
“Technically,” (“I do not fucking sound like that.”) “those were dreams—dreams, so they don’t count.”
Which meant that you had full control of your body out of the dreamscape, proven by the indignant yell the demon let out as he was unceremoniously pushed to the ground for the second time within the twenty-four hour time frame. It wasn’t enough to make up for the numerous times he had you under him, but for now, you were even.
“They sure do!” he exclaimed from where you left him still sprawled on the floor.
“Nope. This conversation is over.”
The stew was just about done, soup reduced to the right amount as you switched off the stove and range hood, bathing your apartment in still quietness besides the bustling from outside. The soft padding of feet came in quick succession until warmth hovered just mere centimeters behind you.
Turning your head, the demon was there, his chin just shy of resting onto the dip of your shoulder as he peered curiously at the steaming pot.
“Is that… kimchi jjigae?” he wondered, taking a generous whiff and appearing just as hungry as you felt. “It is kimchi jjigae.”
You snickered, all animosity fading into faint amusement, “I take it that you’d like some?” It was such a human reaction that you couldn’t help but smile, reaching for the ladle.
“Please?” he pressed, amber eyes all wide and imploring. “I haven’t had a decent bowl of the stuff in, like, weeks.”
“Well, make yourself useful. Set the table, yeah? And pass me two bowls while you’re at it. You know where they are…” you trailed off, looking at him in silent question. You haven’t asked for his name, or what he would like to be addressed as.
Somehow, the demon was rather quick on the uptake, curling his lips as he pushed off to do what you asked him to.
“Haechan,” he called over his shoulder, grinning as he reached for the cupboard’s handle. “You can call me Haechan.”
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So.
There was someone in your home, and he was a demon sitting across from you, digging into his second helping of the kimchi jjigae you initially planned on rationing out for the entire week.
Like an actual living and breathing demon—an incubus. A demon dependent on sex, and from what you’ve heard from one of the girls utterly obsessed with the occult and anything spooky, Incubi and Succubi do, in fact, fuck to survive. A fuck or die slowly situation which earned Haechan a dubious look when he confirmed through a mouthful of pork belly.
(You weren’t too sure if you heard right when the mentioned occult-obsessed classmate later added that the human could literally go insane from the amount of life force they’d lost. Or that some incubi and succubi do it for the purpose of reproducing. Hopefully she was wrong because—well—because).
“Okay,” you let the spoon clatter into your bowl. “Okay.” you repeated in a way to soothe yourself before broaching on the topic, prompted by morbid curiosity because hello, who wouldn’t start questioning the ‘monster’ you were stuck with for an indefinite amount of time? “So! What, you fuck anyone that comes to live here?”
“Mm—one second,” he raised a finger and then swallowed. “This is really good and, well, yes and no?”
You hit him with a pointed look. “It’s either yes or no.”
“Nosy, nosy,” he tutted, heat creeping from your neck and up at the sight of his smirk. “Curious about my body count, aren’t you, sweet thing?”
“Uh,” you said intelligently, brain short-circuiting at the pet-name. “Am I allowed to be?”
Haechan beamed. “‘course! Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. Humans are naturally curious, aren’t they? Kinda weird that you’re so calm about this though.”
He wasn’t wrong. You were the perfect picture of calm listening to him talk about his origins and any sane person would think Haechan was just talking out of his ass. It was likely due to the fact that you’ve become desensitized to most things and consequently, this was less weird than being offered cocaine right outside of campus.
“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged and there was something absolutely hilarious about a demon of all beings expressing a mix of concern and confusion when you waved him off. “So what does ‘yes and no’ mean?” You pressed further, curious and maybe a smidge nosy.
Other than the hectic lifestyle you live, things were pretty much boring when it came to experiences outside of your academics and extracurriculars, and your part-time; the latter only holding a modicum of drama that involved teenagers and their own diluted version of pettiness and the occasional entitled ahjummas that were dead-set on making your life miserable than it already was with maintaining an absurdly high GPA to keep your scholarship. Not to mention you were barely scraping by with your savings.
Taking in Haechan and his brazen glory, you might as well live vicariously through him to feel something, right? Like one of those moms who’d force their own kid to live out their dreams. And so you were going to pry as much as he would let you. Haechan was shameless in his own way anyway, proudly so with how he was literally wearing a pair of your sleep shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a zip-up that was definitely his. You didn’t remember having one with horns attached to the hood and you wouldn't wear anything too on the nose if you were him.
(You could have sworn an ass cheek popped out when he was getting a drink from the fridge—Christ, you didn't remember the specific pair being that short—not that you were looking on purpose, no way. His thighs were literally displayed like that).
“Meaning, I don’t limit myself to just my tenant. The risk of them dying is lower that way. They get the time they need to regain the life force they lost while I go out, find a willing soul and… take what I need.” you pointedly ignored the glint of mischief in his eyes by taking a long, generous sip of your water. Haechan snorted at the loud gulp. “We’re not all evil.”
With what your dreams were made of in the past month or so, you highly doubt a singular demon would align their morals with yours. The thought was ridiculous enough on its own and apparently, it translated so well on your face—a grimace that said all that needed to be said—that Haechan had to laugh with crinkled eyes and a scrunched nose, both in which oddly made him look less of the sex-deprived creature etched into your skull, and more human.
“And I don’t really want a human’s death on my conscience. It’s in our nature, there’s no doubting that, but Hell isn’t lawless as you think it is. We have rules to follow. We still have to be kept in line and it just so happens that humans are—ah, how do I say this—precious,” he said with air quotations. “to our supreme overlord. Humans help keep Hell the way it is, and we try not to terrorize them too often.”
“Bit late on that, don’t you think?” you said dryly, being a victim of his terrorizing.
Haechan didn’t even look the least bit remorseful. “What can I say? Frustration is such a cute look on you, darling.” He cooed, a lop-sided grin stretching wide enough that a fang glinted underneath the overhead light as it caught on his lower lip. “I could just eat you up.”
“Please don’t,” You don’t even want to imagine the damage his piercing canines could do. “I’m not really into vore.”
Haechan giggled, resting his cheek onto an open palm. “You’re so funny.”
“Um!” you were beginning to feel like you’ve aged five years from this conversation alone. “That’s all I need to know, really.”
As interesting as it sounded (e.g; the logistics of Hell’s governance, rules Hellian’s had to follow, the social hierarchy and the importance of humans, surprisingly) you thought it was far too early to go into the nitty-gritty details of anything incubi or succubi related. The fact that Hell mirrored human society in a democratic sense with far more nuances than you would expect was all sorts of intriguing, but your curiosity on that could be satiated another time.
You cleared your throat. “Anyways, thank you for answering.”
Haechan hummed in response, going back to demolishing his food.
Right now, you were more inclined to know what this meant for you and your living situation.
Speaking of.
“Is that why the rent is so cheap?” you wondered, eyebrows knitting together. “Because it had you stinking up the place?” The chair creaked as you fell back against it, arms folding above your chest to scrutinize him more.
Haechan gasped, mouth falling open at the jab. “Excuse you! I smell great!” and as if on cue, the scent of tangy sweetness went up right up your nose, making you grimace.
“It’s a little overpowering sometimes,” you confessed, wrinkling your nose and by the strange act of mercy, the smell dialed down and the urge to keel over disappeared completely. “Seriously, is anything normal too much for you? You couldn’t say ‘hi’ to me normally?”
Haechan arched an eyebrow. “What about ‘sex demon’ screams normal to you?” Touché. “And my way was much more fun.” (“it was fun being a nuisance?” you mumbled) “If I was that much of a bother, why didn’t you complain to Ms. Hong?”
You just about mirrored his expression, “what does my landlady have to do about this?”
Like, yeah, Ms. Hong had her responsibilities being a landlady, including the comfort of her tenants and having their best interests at heart, but you didn’t think she’d waste her time with your… special predicament. Ms. Hong probably had better things to worry about anyway, so why did he bring her up? Better yet, why was there familiarity with the way Haechan addressed her?
“She only tried to banish me one too many times,” He huffed as he mirrored your posture. “I got so sick of it that I left my sigil here so she couldn’t do it anymore. She knows better than to tamper with demon magic.”
“Banish—again, what?” Your head was already spinning from the onslaught of information you’ve been fed up until this point. Add Ms. Hong and her involvement in this? It’s a miracle your brain hadn’t imploded on itself.
“You really don’t know?” Haechan cocked his head, regarding you with an unreadable expression for a short moment, just watching you silently process what he said until his face smoothened to show a little bit of sympathy. “Darling, Ms. Hong’s a witch.” He spoke slowly.
“I literally just found out that you, an incubus, exists. How was I supposed to know she was a witch?!”
Though it did make sense. How weird your landlady acted during the first meeting. How cryptic she was in answering every question you had prior to viewing the unit and she essentially begged you to ‘be careful’ before you left. She knew very well that apartment 66 was housing a demon and cut the costs as compensation, leaving you to figure out the fatal flaw of this damned unit.
Haechan shrugged. Okay, so he’s useless. Great.
With a heavy resigned sigh, the table clattered as you clutched your head. “She’s a fucking witch and she scammed me.”
“Can’t be scammed if you’ve gotten what you asked for—an apartment perfect for you.” Unlike yourself, Haechan found this absolutely hilarious. So nice to know that someone found amusement in your suffering. “with an added little something to keep you entertained, yes?”
It was obvious what he was hinting at: himself, looking up just in time to catch him flashing you a cheeky grin as you stiffened at the sensation of his foot brushing up and down your shin—which was a bizarre choice. Bizarre for you, but another Tuesday for him. The clock barely hit ten and here Haechan was, wasting no time shooting his shot so he could have his fun. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any weirder.
How he knew of your wants, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how he did. With Haechan and his display of freaky ‘demon magic’, you'd assume anything was possible for a Hellian like him, peeking into your head as if it was free real estate. Asshole.
“I don’t remember ever asking for you,” you grumbled, your foot pushing down on Haechan’s to stop him. God, were you seriously playing footsie with a demon?
“Oh? Then that’s too bad,” he said through a pout, mocking. “Unless you find a witch powerful enough to get rid of me and my sigil, I’m staying—and it’s not like you could afford to move again.”
And it’s all kinds of condescending. The way he talked, the way he leered, yet even with all the goading, he was right. There was no way you could afford another down payment for a new place that would surely have a higher jump in price, so you stayed quiet. It was a time like this where you wished there was a reset button to life. Why weren’t you born into money?
“Thought so. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.”
The self-satisfied smile he sported was all sorts of grating, but you weren’t going to risk what he could do to you if you threw a bowl to his head.
Demon magic was an entirely different thing still beyond your human brain’s comprehension, and his black-lacquered nails were like a silent threat on their own.
The scratches on your neck and waist serve as a reminder that Haechan had claws that could tear you apart, hidden in plain sight.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t know supernaturals exist,” Haechan said in slight awe and wonder, lightly swinging his feet from his perch on the counter. “I mean, it’s not like we’re hiding what we are. I’m sure someone warned you, or something.”
With the absence of any self-preservation skills, it wasn’t all too surprising that your Grandma took it upon herself to become the overbearing parental figure in your life.
Grandma was the exact person Haechan was referring to. You told him how she’s as superstitious as they could come and she, with her unwavering belief in anything supernatural, had tried to drill the same into your head. You had practically grown up with her making you do things that could hopefully stop you from going face-to-face with one; would even commission one of her equally insane friends for amulets or talismans to keep the malevolent creatures from latching onto you.
Being who you were, hyper-independent from such a young age to present, those little trinkets you were forced to wear ultimately ended up in the trash and Grandma had long given up on that alternative, fed up with you constantly “losing” them.
Too late now, you thought. When there’s Haechan on your kitchen counter, magic singing with each languid flick of his hand that wound around your wrists like how a cat’s tail would—soft, warm and grounding. Which you didn’t think was even possible when all he used it for was to dry the dishes you hand him, putting them away after with a wave of his hand. If Grandma could see you now, the old crone would likely keel over and die of a heart attack.
“Grandma was kind of insane,” you joked. Paranoid too as she would always call you home the moment the sun went down in fear of you being snatched away by some cryptid. “She was against me going to college, harping on how the city was too dangerous for her ‘sweet girl’. But I wanted different things and I never believed in anything she said.”
If you did, that would also mean you would have let her instill into you the fear of something you weren’t even sure existed. Perhaps struggling to keep yourself afloat wouldn’t even be a thing if you just stayed under Grandma’s roof, but that was another can of worms you didn’t really want to open today.
“Grandma was right, though.”
“Yeah,” you huffed, giving him a brief once over. “Clearly.”
Haechan hummed, preening under the attention. “She really is. Seoul’s infested with all sorts of creepy crawlies. Like, vampires make up most of its supernatural population. You’d usually find them in upscale districts like Itaewon or Gangnam. Bougie fuckers, I know.” he said, matching your own disbelief. “But they’re very generous. Can’t say I’ve had any boring times with the leeches either. Their fangs are really sharp. Sharper than mine.”
You didn’t need to put two and two together to get what he was hinting at. By the lecherous, wide smile that showcased Haechan’s own set of upper fangs, a little shorter than would you’d think of a vampire’s, it was enough to tell you that he’s had his fair share of hook-ups with the bloodsuckers.
You wrinkled your nose at the thought. An incubus and a vampire. That’s a very interesting picture to paint. “I thought humans were the default favorite for you demons?”
“I never said they weren’t,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t try anything else though. Like, Think of it this way—you have a favorite food to eat, right? Eat too much and you’d def grow sick of it. It’s like that.”
“So, in essence, you put off humans to grow… an appetite? To crave for them?”
“Awe, see? You’re catching on,” Haechan cooed. “Though, slight correction, I always crave for humans.”
He was fucking with you. He’s got to be, yet you didn’t think you were in a place to judge his choices. You were painfully human. You didn’t need to do anything drastic for sustenance.
“Whatever gets your fill, I guess. You look like you have it easy, picking out any willing human to be yours for the night anyway.”
You weren’t blind. You were the farthest from dumb too and just looking at Haechan was enough to tell you that he had it easy. That batting his eyelashes once or twice—three times, for good measure—would get anyone keeling over, scrambling to give what he had asked for before Haechan’s deceptive sweetness turned sour. Threatening. Deadly.
With the way he carried himself, how he talked, how his mind worked—all being from the hours-long observation you've mentally conducted—it was just telling how Haechan wasn’t necessarily a stranger to compliments. He was made to be desired. He was made to fulfill such desires, and you could only imagine how often he hears praises for the way he looked. You didn’t didn’t need to add on the number. It's not like he’d die from not hearing anything from you. Haechan could live.
What he could not live without, you were starting to notice, was to have his fun pushing your buttons. The shit-eating grin just told you as much.
“Don’t let that get to your head.”
“Too late! You think I’m sexy,” he sang. “As you should, actually.”
“I hardly think heavy eyeliner is sexy,” you quipped.
Haechan begged to disagree, letting out a wounded noise. “It makes my eyes pop.”
I hope they pop out from your skull. “Sure they do.” 
Here’s the thing: It did make his eyes pop. The unnatural amber shade was already ‘poppy’ as is, backlit by an incandescent glow, a detail the less educated would surely miss from being distracted by everything else. To you, it was the one damning trait that showed Haechan wasn’t at all human and the smokey darkness intensified that.
Haechan’s eyes were beautiful, hauntingly so, but you would rather gouge your own eyes out than to admit it out loud. You planned on wasting away for the entire day and you weren’t letting psychological warfare stop you.
Clearly, the parasite (see: Haechan) had other plans that involved ruining yours. It was like peace was never an option and here you were, given a demon to make sure you’d never find out what it would be like. Being at peace.
(Going back home to Grandma was starting to become a tempting out from this).
Haechan giggled despite the sarcasm, tilting his head to regard you with a look that was almost fond if it wasn’t for the permanent smirk etched onto his face.
“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun living with you, Y/N.”
You narrowed your eyes, “can’t say the same.”
“Don’t be like that,” he murmured as he poked the tip of your nose with his index finger, chuckling when you went cross-eyed. “I’ll make it fun.”
You scoffed, jerking your head away as if he burnt you. “Keep your hands to yourself, demon.”
Haechan only laughed as you made a break for your balcony with the idea of seeking refuge in the mini-garden that had been set up until the burn in your cheeks faded so no embarrassment, not even the slightest bit, would leave a trace.
“Something tells me you’re gonna want them on you soon,” came his reply as soon as you reached the halfway mark towards the sliding glass door. “and you can trust that I won't ever disappoint.”
He’s so fucking sleazy. You had half the mind to whirl around to pick another fight since ‘flight’ was immediately scratched from your choices, kind of like how the initial fear you had dissipated into nothing now that you were aware of what was haunting your apartment. All you felt was annoyance and my God did you want to fight him.
However, before you could even simulate a play-by-play of ‘Giving the Demon In My Home A Piece of My Mind’ in your head (with the hopeful outcome of Haechan reduced to a pathetic heap on the floor. Poetic, you thought, that an all too powerful entity was beaten down in that state), a surprised squeal interrupted your thoughts of murder, thanks to an invisible force hauling and backing you up against a sturdy, warm, smelling suspiciously of fucking tangerines—Haechan.
Boundaries were non-existent to Haechan it looks like, his arms loosely coiled around your shoulders like a snake luring its prey into a false sense of security as soft lips brushed along your cheek; warm and gentle before settling onto your temple.
“All you have to do is ask and I’ll be yours.”
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III.
Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just.
Well.
Normally, the term ‘demon’ being attached to someone would already have some eyebrow raising expectations dealing with the macabre set in stone (mostly influenced by the very same supernatural dickrider classmate. You can never be too safe). Like him sacrificing a poor virgin on a pentagram scrawled onto the parquet flooring in haste, surrounded by candles as Haechan spoke in tongues. Or him engaging in orgies—also on a pentagram, but bigger for at least five people to pay their tributes to Satan through nutting one too many times. Which was? Good for them?
Only, the floor was spotless; hastily drawn pentagrams absent so there were definitely no virgins sacrificed (yet). No orgies either since the nights became surprisingly still, post-Haechan.
Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just, for lack of a better term, normal. 
Something close to dull if it weren’t for the constant reminders that this was a wretched so-and-so demon you were learning to deal with. The reality of it all was borderline boring that you hinted he was free to go ape-shit with his demonic duties. Many, many times until one odd look from Haechan, a silent prompt for you to elaborate, had you deciding against it and excused yourself to tend the small garden.
(He followed behind a second later, poking and prodding until you threatened to spray him with holy water).
In some way, Haechan had no problem adapting with your lifestyle. It was almost laughable how seamlessly he had woven himself into your routine built from years of being in survival mode. Like he was the cog that you didn’t even realize was missing from the machine and, dare you say it, Haechan has been a pleasant live-in something—a pleasant roommate.
What you liked most though, was that Haechan could cook.
Man, did the incubus know how to cook.
It was a quirk—perk, really—you had discovered after an offhanded mention of you routinely skipping breakfast to maximize time and efficiency (read: you were shit at taking care of yourself).
(“Hi,” you called out as you burst from your bedroom in a rush. “Bye. I gotta go.”
Haechan, who had been standing in front of the stove wearing a Pompompurin apron, turned his neck so fast that a crick was heard. “Wait, what?” His distress went pretty much ignored as you pulled on the sneakers you thrifted two weeks ago. “You haven’t eaten breakfast yet!”
Oh, you knew that. Mourned it really, but— “No time. I’ll take a slice of toast though,” you said just as the toaster went off.
The incubus shook his head. “No, you’re getting an egg sandwich. An Omelet sandwich. More filling than fucking toast.” Haechan scoffed and behind him, the two golden brown slices of toast floated as the spatula flipped a generous amount of the vegetable omelet onto one of them. 
Yeah, that was something you were still getting used to. Magic. 
“How’d you take your coffee?”
“Two sugars and one creamer. Both teaspoons.”
“Finally, a normal coffee order,” he sighed, appearing very relieved as he snapped his fingers to conjure a silver thermos before you could even question the weird reaction. “Go on,” Haechan encouraged, gesturing for you to grab it just as your sandwich hovered next to the thermos.
“Thank you..?”)
… and lunch.
(“Make sure to eat lunch, though.”
“Can’t either,” you sighed, stuffing the thermos into your backpack’s side pocket. “Club duties, tutoring sessions—” you ticked two of your fingers up “—plus, I’m on a tight budget until my next pay. My aunt can only sustain me enough.” That, and you’d rather not ask for help even if she insisted. Auntie meant well. You knew that, but she had her own family to take care of and you didn’t want to hear any of her useless husband’s unsolicited advice. Like, fuck that guy. Seriously.
“... dinner?” Haechan tried, sounding almost hopeful, only to balk at the thoughtful look you get while unwrapping your sandwich. You’ve got to be shitting me. “Damn, you live like this?”
Thoughtful turned annoyed which—yeah, Haechan thought he deserved that. “Not everyone has their parents paying for everything. Some of us do have to work.” You took a rough bite from the sandwich, muffling your next slew of words, “don’t you already know this? You have been watching me ever since I moved here.”
He understood anyway. “Not all the time,” he clicked his tongue, switching off the stove and range hood with a flick of his wrist. “I have a life outside being an incubus, y’know.”
“And what do you do in your spare time?”
He smiled something sinister. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”)
The bar was in Hell, apparently, because all it took for you to soften up was to get Haechan feeding you his food. Cooking was the last thing you’d expect from a demon and wasn’t salt considered the Kryptonite to demons and anything made up of evil and malice and shit?
(“Oh, most of us evolved past that. Hell, even Lord Satan’s immune to it. Some of the Hellians are deathly allergic though.” Deathly allergic. How fitting.
“So salt just picks out the weakest link?”
He laughed softly, nodding. “Survival of the fittest.”)
Whatever. You had no room to question Hell and its people’s lore when you were eating like a king, ironically being fed by one of Hell’s people.
Besides, food was one less thing to worry about. An equivalent to luxury; being sent to college with a full, Sanrio themed lunch box that could feed at least three people (see: YangYang. A blockmate you’ve recently gotten closer to whom you’ had caught occasionally staring hungrily at your lunch) and more often than not, you’ve been coming home to a set table and a man in a cutesy apron. You were starting to sense a pattern here.
“Just to be clear,” you began. “you’re not fattening me up just to eat me, right?”
“I thought you weren’t into vore?”
“Please be serious.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Haechan peeked over his shoulder, snorting. “If that were the case, I would have swallowed you whole that very Sunday morning.” The My Melody apron—pink and frilly all over—surely didn’t help his case.
It was like being held at gun-point by a bear; nerve-wracking, yes and you haven’t forgotten for a second that Haechan had the upper hand for simply being not of the mortal plane. Yet it was oddly endearing, now that you took notice of the gray crewneck that definitely belonged to your wardrobe, cinched around a lithe waist.
It still did make you think though. “So there’s no ulterior motive?”
Haechan whirled around to face you with a gasp, eyes widened in feigned innocence with a hand on his chest. “You don’t believe that I’m cooking from the goodness of my heart?”
You arched an eyebrow.
The demon sighed, lips forming into a slight pout. “Fine. Maybe this is more for my benefit than yours.”
“Haechan.”
Haechan raised both of his hands in what you think was placating. “You’re as good as useless when your life force quality sucks from your shitty eating habits. I’m doing myself a favor,” He shrugged. “If you’re eating good, then I’m eating good—that sort of thing.”
Okay, so maybe you still wanted to punch him in the head.
“Wow,” you said dryly, resisting the urge to get up and strangle him. “Way to make a girl feel special.”
There was a coy smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, you can just treat me as something that warms your bed,” the incubus brought his attention back to what he was doing previously, deciding against magic, weirdly enough. “In more ways than one. I don’t mind.”
The chair screeched along the floor as you stood up. “I’m gonna be late,” you sputtered, face hot to the touch and scrambling to escape.
Life was so much easier when you weren’t reminded of the possibility of Haechan running to you for his… sex thing. Actually, scratch that, life was so much easier when you hadn’t been made aware of him because there were times where you wondered when that would be. Multiple times. It wasn’t ever brought up; not by you, not by Haechan as he had been somewhat cordial, no mentions of anything related to his survival. At least directly.
In some way, this was different. It’s not often you’d listen to him blatantly offering himself for a test drive, and yes you do run away before Haechan could expound on it every time, yet something curls deep within your gut when you could feel curious eyes boring into your back as you ran off.
Haechan and his propensity for testing the lines was bound to get him smacked upside the head one of these days, but today wasn’t the day. He was smart enough on not exactly breaching the boundaries set, backing up before you could even get creative with damning him all to Hell.
“Here.”
You jerked your head up as you tied the laces of your sneakers and found another variation of a lunch bag dangling right in front of you.
“Thanks,” you said as you stood to your full height, still flustered and avoiding all eye-contact as necessary. “I’ll make sure to eat all of it.”
Haechan only hummed as you took your lunch from him, offering nothing else.
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“You know, I’ve always wondered who makes your lunches,” YangYang started, sidling up next to you just as your phone pinged. “They’re all so… detailed. Is it your mom?” 
“Ever thought that maybe I made them myself?”
haechan 👹: hi you: what
Telling YangYang outright that your ‘roommate’ went through all the trouble didn’t sound like a good idea when Yunjin was within earshot. Apartment 66 was a one-bedroom unit and she knew very well that you lived alone, her living just right below you with Chaewon, too. Mentioning the roommate would just raise all sorts of questions that could paint you as mentally unstable if you told her about Haechan and his fucking sigil (that you still haven’t found!) that had gotten you in this situation. You felt mentally unstable just thinking about it.
haechan 👹: i miss you :( you: ?? you: what’s wrong with u
Not to mention your mom was as good as dead to you.
“Okay, fair. I don’t think your mom would prepare something so phallic either, lol.” You’d never have thought hearing ‘phallic’ and ‘lol’ spoken out loud in the same sentence would give you this much of a start, immediately looking up from your phone to catch him already holding your opened lunch box with one hand, chopsticks at the ready to poke and prod in the other. “This looks like a dick—look, cherry tomatoes as the balls—”
“Stop doing that,” you hissed, snatching your lunch from him, only to put it in the middle of you two so you wouldn’t have to see him sulk. “No one else is gonna steal my lunch from you.”
you: srsly you’ve been so weird lately haechan 👹: hungry ʕ>Ⱉ<‧ :ʔ you: ? eat something then lol
“So the dick wasn’t code for a quick fuck in the toilet stalls?” He teased, biting down onto the tips of his chopsticks with a sharp grin. “I’d be down.”
If looks could kill, YangYang’s guts would be splattered everywhere on the table.
“Absolutely not.”
You didn’t feel the least bit sorry when YangYang choked on the egg roll you shoved into his mouth.
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With pleasantries came oddities and Haechan was never short on the latter.
It’s like this: It has already been established that Haechan was an incubus. A subclass of demons that made up a quarter of Hell’s population and his origins was also proven by the unrestricted use of his magic at home, yet he still liked to show off that he was exactly that.
There were times where you would catch him hovering an inch or two—sometimes higher—from the ground which you thought was rather unnecessary. Again, the blatant usage of magic for anything menial (e.g: opening cupboards, switching lights, turning on the TV that somehow materialized from nowhere when the remote was right next to him) and you found out the hard way that other than the claws, he also had horns and a tail.
Let’s just say Haechan had to stop you from calling 112 at three in the morning. Again.
(No. He didn’t have to get on top of you this time).
Still, having him around had been, more or less, pleasant. Except when he was stewing away on the couch, which also doubled as his bed, in this peculiar form.
From how often it happened, it became a little guessing game with yourself whether you would come home to Haechan in the form you were acclimated to seeing everyday: human and rather unassuming when his beautiful face did all the talking, or the form where he was completely embraced by his own darkness.
Literally.
Like right now and you had to swallow back a scream from how eerie this thing—Haechan came off, sitting on the couch with the inky black haze swirling around him. It rose and fell like tendrils made out of smoke, curling in the air and reaching out for nothing in particular. You’ve never felt so creeped out as you did now. For a moment, you expected that one of the ghostly limbs would shoot out and grab you.
“Haechan?” you called as you closed the door with your foot. The void™ looked over, his blood-red gaze making you flinch. Christ, that always freaked you out, but you smiled anyway  to appease him, if not a bit crooked and a smidge wary. “Are you okay? What’s with all… this?”
At that, the smoke stilled before getting sucked into his body, revealing Haechan and all his tan glory, sulking. At least he was wearing his own clothes today, a soft looking shirt and a pair of gym shorts that showed way more leg than you think was considered legal. He was comfortable enough to keep his horns and tail out with black, thick-framed glasses as the newest addition.
It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him in such a vexed state. Haechan liked to complain. There wasn’t a day where he didn’t voice his grievances that you kind of expected a long-winded rant the moment you walked through the door, but as you looked closer, he didn’t seem to be in the mood for routine.
He seemed subdued. Sun-kissed skin took on a deathlike pallor and devoid of the usual inhuman glow, so unlike the deceptively beautiful incubus, unshakable even against the harshest remark you’d thrown at him. Now, he looked quite the poster-child for pity. Even his striking eyes lacked the ever-present sheen of mischief in them. He looked awfully plain, almost in a sickly way.
His pout took on a more dangerous route, so close to tugging on your heartstrings with how… pathetic he came off. “I’m hungry.”
“Uh-huh. Read your text,” you said, shoving your sneakers into the cubby.
He did know that he lived here way before you, right? This place was his as much as it was yours. A truth he’d always hold above your head to get his point across, which naturally meant that he was free to gobble up anything edible unless you tell him a specific food item wasn’t for his claws to sink in.
“You didn’t start on dinner,” you noted as you stalked into the kitchen for a drink. “Did you want me to cook instead?”
Haechan's face twisted, something a little pained as he let out a soft whine. “Not hungry as in hungry.” he patted his stomach. “I’m hungry as in—y’know.” Haechan made this intricate gesture with a hand. Like you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant—never mind, he was missing one hand. The crude motion he made soon after with it told you all you needed to know. What he was particularly hungry for.
“Ah.” No wonder he was so needy. Why he seemed sluggish; irritable at times as he almost snapped at you for not putting as much sweet chili paste he wanted in the tteokbokki that one time. It was actually kind of cute, that someone who acted like he was above everyone else was reduced to this. “Is that why you’ve been so clingy? Haven’t found anyone to bump uglies with?”
Clingy was one way to put it, but to be specific, for an entity birthed from all that was considered evil and dark, Haechan oddly had a cutesy disposition at times. The clinginess was very apparent though, reminding you of an overzealous cat shadowing your every move, getting in your way sometimes and not quite letting you have space. The apartment wasn’t exactly generous in that area either.
“My dick isn’t ugly,” Haechan scowled, blinking slowly as he slumped against the cushions.
You couldn’t help but to snort as you pressed the bottle’s opening to your lips. “Is it?”
An offhand comment, really, yet Haechan took it as a challenge anyway. Like he did with most things. You blamed it on his Leo placements. “I can prove it to you right now,” He pushed on as he sat straight up, making you freeze. “You’re talking to a very hungry and very desperate incubus.”
Oh. So you were doing this.
Well, it wasn’t like you were not expecting to be Haechan’s temporary object of desire. It’s just, he never outright asked you to sleep with him, making it easy to assume that he got his fix from somewhere else. Sure, there were hints dropped here and there, though you’d prefer if it was spelled out for you to avoid any misunderstandings.
Now it was spelled out for you. Succinctly. No bullshit or riddle-speak to force you into doing mental gymnastics to figure out what he wanted. Nothing could be clearer than the incubus threatening to whip out the monster hiding in his pants just to prove you wrong (as one does).
Also, maybe you should learn how to shut the fuck up next time.
Panic shot through you like an electrical current, choking on your drink when you caught sight of his fingers teasing the waistband of his shorts.
“Wait!” you wheeze after a coughing fit, a hand shooting out to stop him from flashing you. “Can I at least wash up first?”
“Oh,” Haechan actually looked dejected at this as his hand stilled. “Okay. Don’t take too long, or I’ll miss you.”
‘I’ll miss you’. Jesus Christ. Even the text was less weird. 
“I’ll literally be only a few meters away?” You sputtered.
“Ugh, too far.” he whined, slinking over the couch’s armrest like a lazy cat. Haechan gave the bathroom door a brief glance before his attention went back on you, eyes softer around the edges and almost pleading. “Can’t I just go in there with you?”
“What.”
“We don’t have to do anything! You can have your shower while I can just sit on the toilet and talk about my day!” Haechan explained. Like it was that simple. “Or you can tell me about yours!” He added as an afterthought as if that would make him sound less insane.
The long look you gave was enough of an answer before you all but rushed into the bathroom, completely ignoring the indignant yell from Haechan as you locked the door behind you.
This was probably the weirdest shower you’ve ever had.
Actually, this was the only weirdest shower you’ve ever had.
As if you weren’t embarrassed enough from Haechan offering to keep you ‘company’—which, again, was insane and very bold. Mostly insane—he spent the first five minutes pawing at the door, whining about how he “won’t do anything, really! Just let me be with you, please.” and maybe, maybe you did kind of entertain the idea for a good five seconds or so, before you were hit with how fucking ridiculous it sounded.
Though, admittedly, it was a little endearing, hearing just how desperate he can get, but also the fact that he could literally poof in if he wanted to. He just chose not to. A literal demon. In the flesh. An incubus with unimaginable power running through his veins he could use and abuse to get his way. And Haechan does none of that.
He was still outside. Still pawing at the door, all the while recounting his day spent lounging about the house since the lack of sex had depleted his energy to doing anything else, apparently.
(Seriously, what did he do in all his spare time?)
Other than that, it seemed the concept of consent wasn’t at all lost, that it still held some sort of value for the people assumed to not have any morals (the more you know). It could very well just be a Haechan thing, nonetheless you appreciated the rare instance of him not testing his luck against the boundaries you’ve set.
You made a face. Half at the way the lukewarm water sprayed onto your face bringing you out of your mulling, and half at the thought that Haechan could be sweet and considerate when he wanted to (or when it was convenient for him). 
He did have the face for it. That’s something you have regularly thought about—sleepy eyes, cute button nose, petal-pink heart-shaped lips and the array of moles smattered along his face and neck—yet sweet was the furthest adjective you’d attach to him, honestly speaking. You didn't think he was capable of anything soft, unless it was to manipulate a situation. Not when you were antagonized every waking day God forced you to face until you left Satan’s little minion on the couch for the night, just to do it all over again as soon as the sun bled through the blinds.
(With all the thinking time the shower has given you, you still didn’t know what his actual day-to-day schedule consisted of, though you could so tell that he fit ‘bothering Y/N, the boring human’ somewhere in there. It was one of his favorite past times).
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Yunjin once mentioned that your resting face and the intensity of your glaring were the reasons why you were considered unapproachable, scaring off any potential suitor, too.
Like that was a problem. The guys at your university were mid at best and you wouldn't be caught dead with a guy who made getting his daily gains his entire personality trait.
Haechan was a different story entirely, somehow appearing flattered that you were trying to set him on fire with your eyes alone.
Both of you had migrated to the couch with you sitting criss-cross applesauce and a shoulder pressed against the couch’s backrest. Haechan took on a more laxer route; an arm propped up on the armrest to rest a cheek on his fist, torso twisted to face you without losing any of that comfort, and not even flinching when hit by the full force of your glare and furrowed eyebrows.
“So, are you a virgin?”
You glared even harder. “Shut up.”
“I’m just making sure! So I can adjust accordingly. Your first time should always be gentle and sweet, then we can talk about the other spicy shit you wanna try. Christian Grey style.” There was a joke being formulated here. You can literally see him working it out in his head. From the gleam in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you knew you were going to absolutely hate it. “Could I interest you in some nipple clamps?”
There was a version of Haechan in your head that had just died from spontaneous combustion, just like the other Haechans that died from different causes for simply talking his shit.
“I will clamp your fucking mouth shut, demon.”
“Stop,” he grinned, delighted by the reaction. “you’re gonna make me hard.”
“Freak,” you quipped, folding your arms. “and I don’t think Fifty Shades of Grey is a great representation of the B-D-S-M community. Or a reliable point of reference.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d be snooty with your smut choices.”
Please. You’ve read fan-fiction porn written better than what you’ve seen on the market, or (God forbid) BookTok. Obviously. The argument, however, didn’t make it past your teeth, and it was second nature to rebut against every jab Haechan hurled your way. It was a thing. Your thing. As in plural—for both of you, to engage in a back-and-forth until one of you conceded. It was a Haechan and Y/N thing to argue as if it were life or death.
And for the first time ever, none of you attempted to get the first word in. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that bit at the tail end of Haechan’s sentence and all that was left for you to do was to size each other up. Much like the night you woke to the demon sitting at the foot of your bed, gargoyle-like.
“Right,” you started, pushing yourself up to sit properly. Might as well get this over with. And for the sake of precaution, you can just threaten to waterboard him with holy water if he dared tell anyone else (does he even have any friends?) about what went on behind the manicured door of apartment 66. “How do we do this?”
Haechan inclined his head and smiled.
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“Relax,” Haechan stressed as he tried coaxing you into sitting your full weight onto his thighs and then huffing when you couldn’t seem to just… let yourself go. “I’m starting to believe that you are a virgin from how tense you are.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He wasn’t the one who had unwillingly abstained from sex for longer than what was considered normal, and you honestly believed you'd forgotten most of what you've learned from the handful of meaningless hookups you’ve gone through. And yes, perhaps you were a little hesitant. You were pretty sure you have forgotten what a dick looked like too from not getting any on the regular.
Haechan was walking temptation himself. Sex on mile long legs that should be illegal, honestly, and being compared to his gargantuan pool of past conquests was terrifying to think about. What if you became his worst lay to date? That would actually obliterate the last ounces of your confidence and self-respect, and there wasn’t much to begin with.
Unsurprisingly, the incubus didn’t get where you were coming from, judging by the pointed look he gave you. “It literally is. I’m serious. Just sit down.”
And down you went on his lap with an undignified yelp as your fingers dug into his shoulder for balance. Even squirming to get out of his hold was too much work. Like, it was an actual struggle against Haechan’s tighter than tight grip. Fuck him and the abnormal strength. Escaping has never been so difficult until now, and you’d like to think you were rather good at it too.
“Last chance to admit you’re still a virgin,” he teased and sang the word ‘virgin’ just to further annoy you.
You felt your eye twitch. “Not a virgin. Just…” it tapered off into a sigh as you leaned back a bit for more breathing space, staring resolutely at the small, polished black horns protruding from his head. Was it you, or was it getting a bit warm? “It’s been a while for me.”
“Ah. Nervous?” Haechan supplied and the sigh of relief you released when his hands on your hips loosened their grip didn’t go unnoticed, his amusement made apparent with a soft chuckle. “Scared? I won’t bite unless you want me to.” Something told you he’d probably do it anyway. “and I’m not expecting you to like, be a pro or anything. You just sitting on my lap is already doing me wonders.”
Sitting on his lap was doing something for you too. Not quite falling in line with what Haechan was obviously hinting at, but a grounding feeling where all you could really focus on was how unnaturally warm he was. Going hand-in-hand with Haechan’s thumbs trying to meld circles into your hips became a good enough distraction to put the neurons firing off in your brain to a total stand still.
“Will kissing me help you calm down?” Haechan asked after a few beats of silence. “Or is that too much for you too?”
It was a very obvious bait only Haechan knew of to lure you in. The playful tone was too damning to let it fly above your head, yet you didn’t rise to clamp your teeth around the hook. This dragged on long enough and you were actually starting to get antsy because he wasn’t doing anything. He had every bit of power to do anything he wanted with you. You thought you sprawled above his lap was enough of a prompter for him to just take and take, but—
But.
Amber eyes. Striking as they always were even under the dim warmth of the accent lights, were less piercing as they gaze into your own pair. Something else lurked beneath the thin ring of amber, thinned by blown pupils. Something almost balmy and when you started to loosen up, Haechan wasted no time in gently taking both of your clammy hands to place them above his chest. He was warm here too, your palms curving over the slight swell of his pecs, silently marveling at the firm muscles.
Your eyes flickered a moment down to his lips. Haechan huffed softly with a wry smile. You looked away.
He was quick to catch your chin with a hand, however. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” He warned, moving closer and closer—
And Haechan takes.
Pillowy soft lips slot in between your own trembling pair in a gentle dance. Tentative almost, which you knew was your doing while Haechan remained patient in matching what you have set for your own comfort, surprisingly. Haechan was many things, and patient was less likely to be related to his person, yet it was all he was when he changed the angle and deepened each succeeding press of his mouth.
Technically, this wasn’t the first time you shared a kiss with him (them being in dreams), but this was the first time you shared an actual kiss, lucid. Mind ever present and attuned in the moment to feel and act upon Haechan’s lips. So very unlike the fleeting drag of his mouth from your own and down the length of your throat and Haechan kissed like he just knew what to do. Knew what would earn him a sigh, an appreciative hum, or even a airy moan you had just let out from a teasing bite on your lower lip.
And as expected, Haechan forgot what it meant to be patient.
Haechan cursed low under his breath as he pulled away, ripping his glasses from his face and throwing it onto the coffee table with a loud clatter before capturing your lips again, tongue slipping right past the seam of your lips to taste more of you. His hands were just as impatient, leaving his warmth everywhere and everywhere until he sets them onto your thighs encasing his own. Haechan wasted no time feeling you up, squeezing and rubbing the soft flesh as he went higher where one missing detail halted his movements.
He pulled away from you with a wet sound and pressed his lips to your throat, “Just panties?” He asked, voice low and hoarse.
“Easy access,” you murmured, running your fingers through the unruly, but soft head of jet-black strands and pulling him back by the hairs on his nape to take a good look at him. Pulling his hair seemed to do something, or maybe it was the fact that you’ve been hot and heavy with the way his cheeks glowed a faint rosy hue. You didn’t know an all too powerful demon could be reduced to a debauched version of himself through kissing alone.
It’s made clear to you again that you still have much to learn and at this point, you couldn’t even deny the feelings that conflicted with your head.
“Less talking and more kissing.”
You wanted him. You wanted Haechan and all the oddities that may come with him.
“Oh, darling girl,” He cooed. “I’m all yours.”
The gradual descent from soft and measured to desperate and graceless was an all-consuming sensation of the incubus pulling your chin down so he could easily lick into your mouth. Like this was his personal way of sucking the soul out of you, through the languid drag of his tongue against yours. It was hot, wet, Messy. So messy and the slick sounds of smacking mouths wasn’t enough to alleviate the raging fire burning underneath Haechan’s golden skin and with the way he was holding you so close to him, you would think he was trying to fuse your masses together from sheer willpower alone.
Kissing soon became a forgotten art form, becoming less invested in the sweet taste of him and more inclined to draw out rough, dragged out groans with the slow rocking of your hips. It was a heady feeling being able to have the upper hand, even just for a short moment because if there’s one thing that was painfully obvious about the demon, it was that he hated losing.
(It’s beyond you how he’s able to make anything into a competition).
And the shiver that wracked throughout your entire body from Haechan sneaking his fingers underneath the flimsy garment of your panties was all sorts of rewarding, gripping the bare skin of your hips to guide you into pressing impossibly closer to his hefty bulge. An almost perfect fit in between the apex of your thighs. He wasn’t done, however, because an arm wound around your waist to keep you in place, and an unprompted moan tumbled from your mouth from jerking upwards to match the languid circling of your hips. 
“Like that,” Haechan said, breathless and mouthing wetly against your neck and still keeping up with the pace. “Like it when I know you feel good.” As if your brain wasn’t scrambled enough already he just had to say something like that and so easily too.
“Me too,” you said in spite of yourself, coming out as a whine. Almost delirious from the constant bouts of the incubus marking up your neck, gasping at the playful bite at your collarbone like he was demanding more from you. “Pretty. Your voice. I like how you sound.”
Haechan soothed the bite with kitten licks, letting out a sound, high and incredulous as if it was squeaked out from him. It was a funny kind of sound and you would have laughed if this situation took a sharp left. “You’re awfully honest tonight,” he noted. “got something to tell me?”
There’s a lazy grin tugging at his lips when he gets pulled by his hair again, akin to a cat getting caught in a place he wasn’t supposed to be at. Not even a grain of guilt could be seen on him as Haechan looked particularly smug. All too knowing of an inside joke you were ignorant to. It pissed you off.
It showed easily on your face as you scowled down at him.
“It’s probably your freaky magic forcing me to be.” Sure you were just as bad as Haechan not finding it in himself to shut up when it truly mattered, but you couldn’t say the same when it came to honesty or vulnerability. There was a faint trace of the citrusy scent you’ve associated with him too, especially when his magic was used. Yeah, that’s got to be it. It’s his magic doing all this brain scrambling thing.
Haechan doesn’t fight you on it, surprisingly, still maintaining that smug exterior despite how much of a hot mess he clearly looked with blown-out pupils and kiss-swollen lips. 
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
Although It did sound like he was conceding (a rare feat on its own, really since Haechan loved to argue as well. Like he gets a kick out of hearing you go off on a tangent. Almost like it was foreplay to him), you can never be too sure with him, and the next course of action was purely motivated by getting him to stay quiet. Keeping your lips on his did the trick, of course. An occupied mouth promised you absolute silence, save from the noises you managed to pull from him.
Pulling away, you began your descent; open-mouthed kisses mapped around the tantalizing bronze of his neck, something he deeply appreciated if the pleased hum was anything to go by. Hands dragged lower and lower to feel the firm planes of his stomach barred by his smooth shirt, until you were off of his lap and kneeling in between his legs.
And the tent in his shorts looked just as impressive as it felt pressed against you. You didn’t want to assume, but some crazed part of you had occasional ‘what ifs’ centered around his power being a direct reflection of his size.
Was it crazy? Yes. Was it as crazy wanting his cock deep inside your mouth that it could possibly puncture your esophagus? Definitely. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you sure as hell will be milking it for all its worth.
It was always such a treat catching the demon off-guard, preening at the precious sight of a rosy blush coating his cheeks. “What..?” The absolute bewilderment was cute, actually, and you just knew he was going to be even cuter when you reached out, grabbed a hold of his cock and—
“Oh, fuck.” Squeezed.
You leaned in close with your other hand on his thigh and asked, “Can I?” as you batted your eyelashes once, twice and lips pressed against the cockhead strained against the material the third time. Haechan’s own pair of lips parted to let out a soft moan, whether it was from the sensation of you gently trailing your nose up the length of his dick, or just at the mere sight of you doing so, it was rewarding all the same—that Haechan was at your mercy.
“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he breathed out, clearly trying so hard to keep his composure.
This was it. Morbid curiosity conjured all sorts of images relating to what could be possibly doing a ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?’ rendition. It couldn’t be just a normal looking dick, right? The idea itself was boring and it’s pretty obvious that boring wasn’t exactly exclusive to the demon. He was anything but boring. Well, you were about to find out anyway and with an encouraging nod from Haechan, your fingers hooked on the waistband and pulled to reveal—
“Why are you glaring at my dick like that?”
You blinked, glancing from the supposed monster that almost took your eye out from how it sprung out of its confines and slapped against his smooth stomach, to a frowning Haechan, clearly taken aback by your reaction.
“No underwear?”
“Easy access,” you should have expected that his shamelessness knows no bounds. Whore. “Seriously, stop glaring at it, hello? It’s not gonna bite you or anything.”
“I’m not,” you were squinting, leaning in closer and not minding Haechan’s squirming as you carefully assessed the shaft, marveling at its length and girth by giving it another squeeze and watching the precum bead from its head in mild fascination. “Just observing—I don’t know, I was expecting something else and not an actual penis attached to you.”
“An actual—what were you expecting?” He demanded, voice high, incredulous and sounding all too judgmental for your liking. “Something ribbed? Monstrous? Like those Bad Dragon toys? Tell me, are you a monster fucker?”
“Not a monster fucker,” you grumbled and then perked up, peering at him incredulously. “you know about those?”
He scoffed, like he was offended that you didn’t think he was up-to-date with current trends. “I have an iPhone. I use Google like everyone else, dude. Google is amazing.”
“Did you also know that you’re not supposed to call me ‘dude’ before I shove your dick in my mouth, dude? Or did Google not tell you that?” You paused.
God, maybe bickering was some kind of foreplay for him.
“Can you just suck me off, please?” he whined. “I feel like my dick will explode if you don’t. Actually, I’ll even burst into ashes and die.”
“… really?”
“Baby, please.”
“Fine,” you heaved out an exaggerated sigh, not acknowledging the word ‘baby’. “if I have to.”
“You’re the one who got on their knees!” Haechan squawked, “and don’t make it sound like a chore—”
You didn’t let him finish that complaint, quickly taking the sticky head of his cock into your mouth and sucked. Salt and the barest of sweetness hits your tongue just as Haechan choked on his own spit.
“Oh. Oh shit.”
Haechan properly moaned as a hand gripped on your nape when you took him deeper into the slick heat of your mouth, minding your teeth, and pumping what you couldn’t fit for now punched out a groan from him. Loud and guttural—mostly loud. Unabashedly so—that you just had to take a peek to see what he looked like, completely losing himself in the haze of pleasure you brought up on him.
His head had fallen forward, eyes shut and breath turning shallow the more you take in his cock with each bob of your head. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo, going down on someone, but with the ache you were starting to feel in your jaw, you might as well be inexperienced because of his sheer size. Haechan wasn’t obscenely big to the point it was going to be an impossible fit, though he was definitely the biggest you’ve had in your mouth (about to have in your pussy. Maybe. Hopefully?) so far and somehow, as if letting his spirit possess you, you took this as a challenge.
Your eyes were still on him when you released him with a pop, licking a stripe from his balls up and digging the tip of your tongue into the slit when you reached his tip to gauge his reactions. What made him tense? What was the likely trick to pull every lewd sound from him? What could you do to make him lose all grip on his control and let him take the wheel? It was meant to be a sloppy job, sure, but this wasn't just having Haechan’s pleasure as your priority, it was yours too.
And watching him fall apart just from your hands and mouth alone was doing something for you, something for the dampness you were starting to feel in between your thighs.
You’ve settled on a rhythm that seemed to tick off almost all three from your blowjob checklist. The grip on your nape was tighter and the sounds falling from his lips became all sorts of harmonious. Haechan had such a beautiful voice, a unique tone that would have been such a waste if you hadn’t stepped up to make use of such a gift, and satisfaction curls from within you knowing you were responsible for creating such a wonderful song from having power over a monster.
“Fucking Hell,” Haechan whined, stuttering as your name rolled of his tongue. The hand that wasn’t occupied held onto your jaw, your cheeks caving in beneath his thumb and fingers for a tighter squeeze around his cock and making you moan and gag as drool seeped from the gaps and down his remaining length. “I—I wanna try something. You up for it?”
His hand left your nape, letting you pull away with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wet.
You definitely looked like an absolute wreck right now and yet Haechan stared like you were anything but a mess. It made your skin crawl. It made you feel so seen, but you didn’t really have the strength to push back against whatever ignited behind his eyes.
“What do you want me to do?” Jesus, you sounded so wrecked already.
Haechan looked relieved. “I want you to relax for me,” he said, the same hand that held your jaw now cupped your cheek. “I want you to trust me.”
“Okay.” He hasn’t done anything to make you not trust him so far. “I trust you.”
“Okay,” he repeated and his hand was back on your neck again, nudging you forward until your swollen lips pressed against his frenulum. “Relax.”
The faint citrusy sweetness increased in its intensity, so overpowering that it usually meant that a headache would soon come along, but it never did. Instead, there was a calmness that washed over your feverish skin, seeping into your muscles that unwound all the tension in your body and making you sag forward. While this—whatever this was—was happening, Haechan lazily flicked his wrist to jerk himself off, minding your face before squeezing the base of his dick and moaning softly when catching your eyes.
Strange. Everything felt so floaty. Like there was this sleepy haze encompassing your mind that numbed all your senses and rendering control over your own body next to non-existent, leaving Haechan to do all the work himself; one hand still remaining a heavy presence on the back of your head with the other guiding his cock into your mouth.
“Open up, sweet girl,” then fucked in the entire thing in one swift go.
It was an instant stretch for sure, but you didn’t gag. Not even a bit. It was like that particular reflex had been numbed into nothing as Haechan wasted no time settling on a brutal place, fucking up into your face, blatantly using you—your mouth like a cocksleeve with each rut of his hips becoming rougher after the other.
“Look at you just taking it, fuck.” Haechan groaned, pleasure just as visible on his face. From the faraway look in his eyes to his slackened jaw, freely letting him run his mouth. “You talk too much, y’know that? Always bitching about something and all I could think of was shutting you up with my cock.” He hissed. “Now look at you. So fucking pliant. Knew you were gonna be so good for me. ‘s like you were just made for it. Made for me.” you couldn’t help but whine as his fingers stroked your cheek full of cock.
It was a tight fit. So tight that it was the only thing you could think about, holding on to one of Haechan’s thighs to keep you anchored amidst the overwhelming fullness in your mouth. How you managed to keep up with the almost frantic thrusts, you had no idea, though it looked like you were faring well with pulling off every trick in the ‘sucking dick’ handbook if he was throwing his head back and gasping when you sucked particularly hard on the upstroke.
The sight was something else entirely. Pornographic almost, in a way the front row seat of the demon getting himself off left you squirming, hyper aware of how damp your panties have gotten that it stuck to your skin. All from watching and being used to get his fill.
You were so horny that you could cry.
You staved off your own pleasure to be of service to Haechan and you were just hit with how much you needed to be touched. A whimper broke out from you, garbled and broken when you couldn't even ask him to do something. Anything to make the ache go away.
“I know, darling.” Haechan gritted. You hadn’t even realized your eyes fell shut when they snapped open and met his pinched expression. “Just a little bit more. You can take more, can you? For me? I’m going easy on you for your first time. You should be thankful I did. Next time, I won’t be so merciful. I want to see you gagging for it. Choking on it. You’d do that for me, won’t you?”
All you could do was hum, nails digging into the meat of his thigh when he pressed your head forward until your nose digs into the nearly trimmed hair surrounding his groin. Still, you didn’t gag, but swallowed, still numb and the weight on your tongue was pleasant if anything. Your mouth felt so full and the pronounced ache in your jaw had tears brimming along the edges of your eyes.
You didn’t think you could wait that long, not when it clicked that you had both hands free. You made quick work of sliding your one hand down and into your panties, legs parting wide enough just as Haechan resumed his roughness. Your body burned hotter than ever, cheeks being the warmest, exponentially embarrassed by touching yourself in front of Haechan, whether he was aware or not.
It was quite the arduous task too, especially with the effects you were starting to feel when you remembered the tangy scent was there for a reason, like something was being taken away from you. This was probably the life force the demon was talking about, seeping through every pore to be taken and consumed until you were fit to do it all over again.
You were beginning to fall into delirium from the onslaught sensations of Haechan incessantly rubbing against the flat your tongue while chasing your own release by the quick work of your fingers along your clit. Delirious to a point where you felt things that weren’t even there, winding around your thighs and waist. You had thought it was the demon’s arrow-headed tail that somehow lengthened, but when you checked, it remained wrapped around your wrist, the one laid across his thigh.
The discovery wasn’t exactly alarming. Kind of weird, sure, like the many oddities of Haechan, but you just chalked it up as his magic keeping you in place. Invisible ropes coiling and uncoiling around your legs as their way to caress your skin, grounding you, and acting like they were an extension of him and his subconscious. Almost like they were t—
“Fuck. fuck,” Haechan whined, following up with a, “gonna come—gonna come!” with his grip growing tighter and tighter. You were close too. On the brink of it, admittedly, and that was from being so wound up, simply watching that you were kind of surprised you hadn’t cum all over your fingers the very moment they slipped in between your folds.
On a surprising act of chivalry, Haechan did try to pull out from being buried in your mouth in what felt like hours of being reduced as some hole he’d get to use, though the moment he warned you again, you silenced him with a tearful glare and sank until your nose crushed into his pubic bone again, all the while holding onto the hand that never seemed to leave the back of your neck just to prove a point.
Blunt nails dug into the skin of your nape as Haechan shoots thick streaks of his cum down your throat with a choked off groan just as you moaned around his length, falling apart just shortly behind. Thighs shaking in exertion from kneeling and the orgasm that jolted through your veins that, in return, dissipated the fog of the spell? Magic? that acted as a numbing agent for your throat. It was then that you gagged. Almost violently as the sound wasn’t at all pretty, nor sexy, given the current setup.
You were fine though, albeit teary and out of breath as you took Haechan’s thick cum like a champ, swallowing every single, tartly sweet drop with the cockhead pressing at your soft palate. Once he slumped against the couch did you then pull him out of your mouth, sliding your tongue  back-and-forth at the underside of his cock to tease and bring him to the beginnings of oversensitivity.
Haechan could only whine, lazily trying to pull you away, to no avail.
You let up, snickering at the withering glare he gave you.
Out of everything you tried, this was probably your favorite way of shutting him up. Granted, Haechan was mostly the benefactor from getting his dick sucked, it was loads better hearing an artful mix of his moans and whines than him actively trying to make himself out as the insufferable villain in your story with words alone.
“You’re a peach, Y/N,” Haechan said after gathering the much needed oxygen back in his lungs. “The sweetest peach. I could eat you up. C’mere.” You damn well hope he won't. Being eaten is like the worst way to die, even if you knew it was a little jokey-joke he’d often tell just to see you squirm  “Let’s take care of you.”
Oh.
Oh. Right.
“It’s fine,” you waved him and the offer off. “I—um, finished.” You cringed. What are you? A wench from the Victorian period?
Haechan looked so incredulous for a man who just got his soul sucked out through his dick. “You did? Show me.”
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, sitting a little straighter and pulled your hand out from your panties. The evidence was quite clear too, coming in the form of glistening fingers that Haechan immediately noticed and before you could even blink, he had you on his lap once again to stick his tongue into your mouth. One hand around your throat, not necessarily choking you, and the other sneaking underneath your top to squeeze your tit.
“Think you can ride me?” Haechan asked in between the rushed push and pull of your lips. “All this just from sucking me off? I could just slide right in no problem,” his fingers slid into your underwear, warm fingers dragging over your clit and shallowly dipping into your hole as he said this. “Fuck, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you since you first walked into the bedroom. You want that, don’t you? Say yes.”
Burying his fingers deeper into your wet heat, you keened, pressing both your foreheads together. “Yes.”
Haechan’s smile was absolutely degenerate.
“Good girl.”
Just then, the front door slammed open.
The surprised scream that left you was next to ungodly as your arms flew around the incubus’ neck as his fingers pulled out from your panties—
“Honey, I’m home!”
And in walked a man you had never seen in your entire life, apparently ripped all to Hell because of fucking course the first thing you’d pay attention to was his tits. Visible even under the shirt that was meant to be oversized with the sleeves falling past his elbows, and sadly, you were no better than a man. His pecs looked insane and in your defense, they looked at you first!
“Oh. Oh, was I interrupting something?”
“Yes. Fuck off.” Haechan hissed just as you exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?”
The stranger completely skimmed past the demon, more interested in your presence.. “Now aren’t you a catty little one,” at this, Haechan pulled you closer which was followed by a soft laugh. “How cute—and my eyes are up here, sweetheart. Can’t blame you for staring, though.”
Chastised by the call-out, your eyes immediately flicked up to meet—Oh. Damn.
A glossy pair of lips parted to show two rows of perfect teeth. Far too many teeth that you thought were impossible for a human to have, but that didn’t erase the vital fact that this random dude was handsome. So, so handsome to the point your brain was struggling to comprehend that this man was real. Soft and sharp sculpted with such precision it’s as if he was crafted by the gods themselves. A full head of silver hair, one side artfully pushed back to show strong eyebrows and round sparkling eyes, staring right at you.
“Is she another one of your humans you fuck to survive?”
Well, handsome in a way it was better for him not to talk. You know, to keep up the illusion.
Haechan tongued at his cheek. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?” 
“Ah, right.” Jaemin casually strolled further in like he owned the place, the front closing by itself with a wave of his hand. Wait— “Lilith has been bothering Satan who has been bothering me to ask you when you’ll visit home.” Jaemin explained, then followed up with, “when do you plan on coming back home? I think more than five decades of complete radio silence is a bit much even for you, Haechanie.”
Oh great. As if one wasn’t already enough, another demon—by the damning sign of Lilith and Satan and Hell being mentioned—was under your roof.
You felt Haechan go rigid under you and you turned to him, confused at the sight of him slightly panicked. You had never seen him this panicked. “Um, never, actually!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s stated in Hell’s handbook,” It’s a real thing? “that I can’t leave the mortal plane when I’m tied down.”
Tied down? Did he mean the sigil somewhere in the apartment?
“Right,” Jaemin drawled, a thick and strong eyebrow arching in question with a fleeting glance towards you. “okay, so where is her mark then?”
“Here!”
Searing pain immediately bloomed on the inside of your wrist as soon as Haechan took hold of it, making you gasp as you watched delicately curled lines take shape into the sun. A small, inky thing the size of a coin branded on what was once the smooth plane of your wrist. Haechan’s sigil was now a permanent part of you too, a pretty little thing if you only knew what it meant.
“Well,” Jaemin coughed, glancing between you and the incubus. “Congratulations. Haechan is now yours, as you are his. You’re now bound to each other until death.”
Never mind. The sigil was positively the ugliest thing to be tattooed on your body.
Haechan was already looking up at you, terrified.
“I can explain—”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, demon.”
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“Haha… is that plain water in that spray bottle, or is it actually holy water?” Haechan asked, his placating smile waning as each second of you not answering passed. “Please tell me it’s just water.”
Haechan shrieked, falling to his knees and arms coming up to block his face when you all but jerked the bottle towards his direction with a sardonic smile.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
It took you three full days to forgive him. After getting on his knees to eat you out against the kitchen counter, of course.
“I’m not against tattoos or anything, but,” you took a quick moment to observe the mark he left on you with little difficulty in understanding just why this was even a thing. “do you have to mark everyone you sleep with? Is this for you to keep track of them?” The thought then immediately left a bad taste in your mouth. Did this mean that you were simply part of the crowd Haechan would entertain only when he needed to?
“I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else.” Haechan confessed, quiet. “It’s kind of the reason why I’m hungrier than usual.”
“Oh.”
That made a lot of sense actually. Venturing out in search of a willing body was a thing for the first few months of being under the same roof. Haechan would always let you know of his plans for his nightly plans out of politeness that nights alone had become routine as well. Then somewhere along the way, it became a seldom occurrence. Twice a week. Once a week. Once every two weeks until you had realized he spent more of his nights with you, but less energized than what you were used to seeing when he was ‘full’.
That still didn’t answer your question though. Why was he keeping himself from taking what he needed to survive?
“Why all this then?”
“This isn’t just binding you to me. It’s more than that,” he muttered, taking your wrist and twisting it upwards to stroke the sun inked into your skin. Tender, as if your wrist was fragile enough to break at the slightest pressure. “And It’s for my own peace of mind.”
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IV.
Naturally, it became a regular thing, being bonded to an incubus aside.
Since his choices had downgraded to a singular source, there wasn’t a day where Haechan didn’t have his hands all over you, or in you since it was an unspoken thing that he liked giving as much as he liked receiving and it was treated as simply an extra thing of routine that you started seeking him out on your own accord, too.
Haechan wasn’t picky when it came to a time and place either. He had you laying on the floor once after betting he could make you cum on his tongue more than once (two was enough, but since he was competitive to a fault, he had you begging—had you crying for him to stop after the fourth time). You gave him head in the dingy stairwells of the apartment after a bad day.
In the storage room. In the shower. The supposed off-limits rooftop. On the poor dining table you had to disinfect two times before Yunjin came over with the incubus disguising himself as a stray, black mainecoone cat. You ate on that thing, yet you spread your legs for Haechan to devour you until he was satiated. It was like an unspoken game of who can out-horny the other with little regard to privacy.
On most occasions, it was beneath you to even think of it, but the memory of Haechan holding you down on top of the working dryer and fucking your thighs in the basement slash laundry room, had you thinking otherwise. It was the most fun you’ve had in a while. Arguably your entire life, honestly.
Fucking around with Haechan was good. Great. Perfect even that all you could do was want him in every possible way you could think of. With every kiss, every touch accompanied by wicked promises breathed into your skin, Heaven was brought to you each and every time Haechan took you into his arms, having a piece of salvation for himself.
It should have been enough, oscillating between having his dick in your mouth and/or hands, or Haechan lapping at the aching center of your thighs until they quivered, or both at the same time. The classic ‘69’. (which almost always turned into a competition on who could make who cum first).
Yet greed had gradually reared its ugly head the longer you listened to your closest friends’ sexcapades that extended beyond heavy-petting and oral, because Haechan never dared to push further. The irony of a creature literally embodying temptation, yet never allowed himself to be tempted by a willing body was almost laughable, if greed and impatience hadn’t put together a simple, yet straightforward question.
“Why haven’t we had actual sex yet?”
The knife slipped from Haechan’s hand. A bloody disaster if magic hadn’t been an inherent part of the incubus’ origins. It paused in mid air before it could even reach the ground and levitated back into his hand.
“Can we talk about my day?” This was the fastest you’ve seen his face go from neutral to exasperated.
“You barely leave our apartment, what is there to talk about?” you pointed out. “and this is serious! Are you, like, trying to abstain? What’s the vegan alternative of taking my life force without actual penetration? Porn?”
Dead eyes stared right at you. “You’re not funny,” Haechan said, “and if I was abstaining, I wouldn’t have let you sit on my face last night.” Okay, fair point.
“Then what gives?” You groaned, acting as his shadow as he moved about the kitchen. “We’ve done everything but stick your ‘monster’—“ (Haechan’s eyebrows pinched together. “Why is monster in air quotations.”) “—cock inside me. Am I—” you paused, dread creeping up your system for a plausible reason why you aren’t getting dicked down like you deserved. “Am I not sexy enough?”
That startled a laugh out of him, the previous, bordering on dour front fading completely for his sunny smile to take its rightful place on his lips. “You’re plenty sexy, and cute too, apparently. C’mere.” It was almost easy walking yourself into his space, sighing as his warm palms rested on your hips. “Kinda miss when you were meaner. Did I successfully sucked the attitude out of you?”
“Oho. Didn’t realize I was getting a free show.”
You stiffened at the sound of the awfully familiar voice belonging to the current bane of existence and spun on your heel to find Jaemin on the couch, Switch joy-cons in hand.
The mortification of him listening to you essentially whining at the lack of penis-in-vagina action didn’t even get the chance to settle in when you were more annoyed at Jaemin seeking refuge in your home. Again.
“Don’t you have any other supernatural friends to annoy?”
Jaemin, totally unbothered by the visceral reaction, only gave you a sharp smile, like a shark getting a whiff of fresh blood, that raised all sorts of alarm bells. Terrifying thing, Jaemin. “Hey, sweetheart,” how he made a greeting sound so condescending, you didn’t know. Maybe it was a Jaemin thing. “You’re home early. How’s school?”
He looked to be in the middle of another session of rotting his brain by playing Animal Crossing, a mint green bunny speaking to him—his in-game character—in aegyofied gibberish. It was like looking at two Jaemins the more you scrutinize them side-by-side. One less demonic than the other, but still an uncanny resemblance.
“We don’t take in strays.”
Jaemin barked out a laugh, letting the joy-cons fall into his lap. “That's funny, coming from you.”
“I legally live here.”
“The legality of your living situation is nothing compared to my centuries of knowing Haechan,” Jaemin turned towards said incubus to bat his ridiculously long eyelashes that you held an irrational jealousy for. “right, Haechanie?”
“I hope your human crucifies you, actually.” Haechan quipped. Equal parts unimpressed and disgusted. 
Jaemin gasped, eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s so uncalled for!”
“It’s what you get for giving your human rat heads and all the other weird shit as courting gifts.” You wished Haechan was joking, but it was the truth.
The first night Jaemin came in unannounced was the very same night that he, a demon who took care of striking deals with desperate humans in exchange for what they treasured the most—A Dealer, you remembered Jaemin specifying for you—realized that maybe the feelings he was harboring for his assigned human went beyond what was considered platonic. That then created a domino effect of him asking for advice, you giving advice with Haechan’s own input and Jaemin, a man of tradition, somehow fucking up in the process which revolved around his… questionable tastes in gifts.
(Also, don’t cats hunt for small animals to give their humans as ‘gifts’ too? There’s a joke to be made here somewhere. Something about Jaemin disguising himself as a demon while actually being a cryptid. An Eldritch horror in a human skin suit).
“I’m heading out to get some stuff for dinner.” Haechan said. “Talk some sense into him, will you? He gave his human a bracelet made out of teeth.”
“The entire thing is made of teeth?” He nodded, grim. Then you turned to Jaemin who resorted to whistling a tune as if what he did was socially acceptable. “Jaemin!” You scolded, like you birthed him yourself.
“What? It’s either a freshly harvested human skull for her candles or teeth from the dental clinic I work at, take your pick!” Jesus Christ, this was actually worse than talking to YangYang and he says pretty fucked up shit on the regular. And the dental clinic made so much sense, you know, with Jaemin’s wide smile and many, many teeth.
“I’ll see you in a bit okay? We can have some fun when Jaem’s gone.” Haechan winked, placed a quick kiss to your cheek before turning to Jaemin and it was impressive how the softness he had for you hardened into something stern for the other. “And try not to give my human an aneurysm. You’ve done enough damage to yours.”
And then he was gone, like, he disappeared into a puff of hot pink smoke, leaving you to marinate in the warmth of being flustered by the sudden, but not unwelcome act of affection in the middle of the kitchen.
Jaemin appeared either physically ill, or an outrageous alternative for surprise when you made your way towards him. You didn’t know. Pretty as he was, he made the strangest faces sometimes that you sort of pitied the human bound to him.
“What?”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?”
“That—“ Jaemin then did this poor impression of you: an exaggerated demure curl of his lips, his stupidly long eyelashes fluttering so fast you would think he was having a seizure and the most offending of all, a high-pitched, ear-grating giggle that didn’t sound remotely close to yours. You didn’t even giggle! Not even once! “Dick so good you got domesticated.”
You closed your eyes. “Please never say those words ever again.” Or I’ll kill you myself, you wanted to say. Though, he’d probably end up killing you before you could even attempt dumping a bucket of holy water on him. “and I wouldn’t know. I’ve only had him in my mouth. We haven’t gone further than that.”
“… interesting.”
Your eyes snapped open. “You hesitated. What did you mean by that, you fucking cryptid?”
Jaemin only smiled. Knowingly. Menacingly. You hated him so much.
“So!” He clapped his hands together. “Trouble in paradise, Haechan’s human?”
“Oh don’t you even start.” you snapped, falling heavily beside him on the couch. “This is your intervention. Not mine.”
“We can both have our own interventions.” You didn’t really want to. You usually didn’t do the ‘emotions and feelings talk’ with someone who’d forced friendship upon you if you could help it, but beggars can’t be choosers and Jaemin was stubborn.
So, so stubborn. It’s like arguing with a wall, really.
“You’ve got a heart boner for our Haechanie.”
You gave him a long, tired look. “You are so weird.”
And, well, that’s one way to put it. Heart boner, you scoffed. He could have just said that you were, in essence, in the same boat as Jaemin longing for something sweet and long-lasting that wasn’t in the platonic sense. (And sex. Lots of sex).
You couldn’t pin-point the exact day where things had started falling into place. It was a gradual development, you thought. How Haechan’s habits became less annoying and more endearing as time went on. How you sought out his company more than you did your classmates turned friends. How you laughed at almost everything he said or did that you would have given a certain power couple a run for their money, and how you couldn’t even imagine a life without coming home to an incubus who was very insistent in keeping your health in check, even if it was more for his benefit than yours.
The final piece clicked into place when your body gave out, rendering you sick with the flu.
You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking at.
Maybe it was the medication Haechan immediately made you drink once it became glaringly obvious it wasn’t just a simple cold making you see things because there was no way a splitting image of yourself stood by your bed, wearing clothes that belonged to your incubus housemate.
“I’m dead,” you concluded. “I’m dead and my doppelganger is here to collect my soul.”
“No, it’s your super sexy housemate disguised as you.” The wide grin looked so out of place on your face. Almost uncanny valley. You’ve never used that much facial muscle before, and not to mention your voice. Is that what you sounded like to everybody? 
“That’s even worse.” you croaked after a disgusting coughing fit.
Haechan—with your face and body—huffed. “It’s either you miss class and fail that big test you’ve got coming up, or I show up to your classes in your place, take notes for you then teach you the material.”
The answer was quite obvious already. If Haechan hadn’t existed, you still would have shown up to class and your tutoring sessions and your part-time job, regardless of being sick. Which was exponentially worse, now that you thought about it. You relayed this to the demon wearing your face, and you have never wilted so quickly underneath his intense glare.
“There’s some congee on the stove for you,” Haechan said when you thought he was satisfied with giving you the most disappointed look known to man. “Make sure you drink your medicine after every six hours and drink more water. No wonder you get headaches so often.”
“You sure it’s not because of you?” You argued. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you lost the will to fight.
“I’m serious. Don’t fight me on it,” and gosh, it wasn’t often he addressed you by your name, preferring to use a small pool of pet names he had reserved just for you, but hearing him say your name and with a tone of finality made you feel things you shouldn’t when down with a flu. Even if it was in your voice… and with your face.
“Take it easy today,” Haechan stressed as he swung your backpack over his shoulder. “And call me if you need anything—anything, and I’ll come running back, or—well, poof back.”
The congee was delicious, probably the best you’ve had in your life and it did help alleviate the symptoms, the ginger soothing your scratchy throat, you felt less congested and not a grain was left in the pot. You spent the entire day lounging on top of the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, the faint smell of Haechan’s citrusy sweet scent soothing as you drifted in-and-out of sleep, the TV humming lowly in the background.
Haechan came stumbling in the apartment, now looking like himself, devoid of the disguise that creeped you out more than it did impress you and with a hefty looking bag of take-away in hand. He looked a bit ruffled, certainly had a long day when you reminded him of your duties as a tutor, a club member of multiple clubs and as an underpaid employee.
(“Your Google calendar is packed,” Haechan exclaimed, staring down at his phone. “what do you mean you have upcoming networking events? You already have clubs committees. How do you keep up with all this shit and keep a 4.0?”
“And how exactly do you have access to that?”
“... I’m not answering that.”)
Nonetheless, a sweet smile kept its rightful place on his heart-shaped lips, his entire frame perking up when his eyes locked on you.
“So, something interesting happened today,” Haechan started.
In no time, the coffee table was filled with food, both of you sitting on opposite sides. A random series which you did not all care about rolled on quietly behind you as you loaded your bowl with tteokbokki and it was when you stuffed the very first, still hot rice-cake into your mouth did you realize he was talking to you.
“Sorry, wha’?” you said in the midst of chewing, delighted by the sweet and spicy sauce.
“Something interesting happened,” Haechan tried again, snorting softly and reaching forward to thumb at the corner of your lips, then sticking said thumb into his mouth. “You had some sauce.” He shrugged.
“Ah,” you rasped. “So what happened?”
He smiled. A private little thing reserved just for you, and maybe a touch sweeter that made your insides fold in on itself. “What’s with this YangYang guy and his hard-on for your lunches?”
“I see why you and Jaemin are friends,” you said, nose wrinkling at the odd phraseology. “and technically, you made those lunches, so…”
“Ew.” He stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Don’t be gross. As if I want to do anything with that—that imp!”
“Why’d you say it like it’s a slur?” The delivery made it sound like it was. Not to mention he did not, at all, sound very excited at the thought of YangYang possibly meaning something to you. Which was. Understandable. “Is it a slur?”
“No,” he sighed. “He’s an actual imp.”
“What?” Something told you’ve been saying that word way too much. “Huh?” That wasn’t any better.
“You couldn’t tell? The way he smiles is a dead giveaway. His teeth looked sharp. Very touchy with me—well, you, too. Imps are literal menaces to society and would latch onto anyone for friendship. Seriously, how did you survive all this time?”
“You keep forgetting I’m human, demon. I don’t know all this supernatural shit. And why are you so bothered? Jealous that you’re not the only man in my life aside from Jaemin?”
Haechan’s face drew into a careful blank. “Eat your food.”
Satisfied, you shoved two rice-cakes into your mouth.
“I quit your job, by the way.”
You stiffened from where you sat on the counter.
He what? “You what?” Did he forget that you were broke as fuck? “Haechan, I need to work! How the hell are we going to survive?” And by ‘we’ you meant ‘you’ because only one of you needed actual food to survive. The other lived on vibes and sex which, okay, would be ideal in this life.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said. As if it was that simple and he quickly stopped you from furthering the argument with a stern look. “I’m serious. I’ll take care of it. What I need you to do for me is start taking better of yourself. You’re already overworked from school. I’m surprised you still find time to tutor people.”
“Chenle pays very well, so…”
“Well, you can keep milking him of his money then,” from the looks of it, Haechan was fine with the Chinese transferee that followed Renjun (a friend made from YangYang’s insistence) around, and that was saying something since he did spend two hours tutoring the kid who was so loud you were surprised your hearing was miraculously left intact. “And still keep up with your clubs.”
Haechan flicked his hands above the sink right after closing the faucet, finally done with the last of the dishes, drying them with a tea towel before he stood in between your thighs.
“Should I know how you’re going to make this work now that I’m unemployed?” You joked and you knew very well that Haechan somehow paid his dues. You just never cared to ask how he was able to afford half of your combined expenses since you were more relieved by not getting any unwanted notices from Ms. Hong, or any of your service providers.
Haechan’s eyes glowed something along the lines of pensive and an unnamed emotion that you couldn���t quite put your finger on. All you knew was that you felt shy under his gentle scrutiny, his usual piercing gaze softer. That he was softer now that a wry curl of his lips accompanied the tenderness.
“What you should know is that you shouldn’t worry anymore,” he said, a warm hand cradling your jaw as the other rubbed the sun inked onto your wrist. “And that I’m here. I’ll take care of everything, and I’ll take care of you.”
Looking at Haechan right now, it’s like you were seeing him for the first time and suddenly, it all made sense. Maybe he was onto something, when he had said something so simple. That it was easy. Just like how easy all of this was with him. It was as easy as Haechan completing most of a puzzle and leaving you to attach the very last piece, painting a crystal clear picture of pointing out the obvious.
The sky was blue. The Earth rotated on its own axis, and you liked Haechan. Even with his oddities.
“Oh wow,” Jaemin said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Your face already says enough.”
You scowled. “Says you.”
He shrugged, smiling softly to himself. “If it helps, I think I do know the reason why Haechan is holding himself back.”
“From what?” Was there a dumb rule in Hell’s rule book that Haechan, as a Hellian, wasn't allowed to copulate with a non-Hellian? Because you were halfway from the actual copulation phase of this arrangement and so far, nothing bad had happened. Yet.
“From you, sweetheart, and the last thing he’d want to do is accidentally hurt you.” Jaemin explained. “He marked you, remember?”
“Yes,” fingers absentmindedly ghosted over the sun on your skin. “I do remember.”
“Then that’s all you need to know.”
“Okay now that just sounds ominous,” and you were starting to get tired of the not very subtle implications of possibly getting injured during sex. "That did not help at all."
Jaemin just nodded, vaguely. Didn’t even try to elaborate on it. He’s so annoying.
The two of you lapsed into silence, looking at each other for a brief moment then averting each others’ gaze with a unionized sigh, one heavier than the other, as you contemplated the gravity of the situation.
“So… what do you think about a tooth necklace to go with the bracelet?”
“Why can’t you be normal?”
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“What did you and Jaemin talk about?”
You could almost sob from being denied yet another orgasm. Apparently, Haechan wanted to find out if he could make you squirt, which then brought forth the idea of edging you so it could be a two-in-one experience or whatever the fuck. You only agreed because he did promise some fun after Jaemin left and you were obviously going to expect him to deliver.
What you didn’t expect was for him to bring up the so-called ‘girl talk’ (as Jaemin had affectionately put it) after what felt like hours of being brought to the brink of an orgasm and denied over and over again.
“Seriously?” You groaned, lifting your head up so you could glare at the demon peeking innocently between your thighs. Though, nothing was innocent with the way the lower half of his face was drenched in a dubious mix of his spit and your juices.
“You wanna do this right now?” Right when you were so close to leaking all over his fingers? “Just make me cum like you were made for, demon.” you grunted, emphasizing it with your fingers tightening in his hair as you rolled your hips, clit bumping against the tip of his nose.
Naturally, when Haechan was presented with a challenge, he’d make sure he’d win.
“Love it when you’re a little mean.”
The demon grinned something a little mean himself and it wasn’t long before you were crying out his name to the heavens. Some kind of bastardized prayer forced out by three of his deft fingers taking on a rough pace. Fucking into your sopping wet cunt and a mouth made of pure sin alternating between licking and sucking at your clit, all the while shaking his head to go in deeper, to have more of you until something builds.
Familiar heat simmered under your skin, body confused whether you wanted to wrench the demon’s insistent tongue away or keep him pressed against your wet heat to the point of exhausting him and yourself. Haechan made the decision for you though because somehow, it was like you were being held down, the same feeling of invisible velvet ropes coiling snugly around your waist, legs and all the way down to your ankles.
The lower half of your body was under his control, and all you could do was take, take and take until you were seeing white. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as a shaky, high-pitched moan falls from your slackened jaw. Your body went impossibly taught, thighs shaking as something more intense than your previous orgasms crashed onto you like a heavy wave, getting swept along the currents until you were certain you blacked out.
Perhaps just a few seconds of you floating about in limbo, then regaining lucidity at the sensation of Haechan petting your pussy, deeply immersed with his own fingers playing with the irregular spurts of liquid coming out of you. It was gross. It was sloppy. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
“That’s one.” Haechan laughed, breathless and smug and the wicked glint in his gaze was enough to tell you he wasn’t done with you just yet.
“Care to give me more? I’m really hungry.”
This was going to be a long night.
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V.
Realistically speaking, this was no one else’s fault but your own.
“I’m gonna be late.”
So fucking late that you could give less fucks of how you looked less put together than you normally were with skipping makeup altogether and putting on clothes that you thought was presentable, yet comfortable enough to get you through the day. Haechan wasn’t even able to get a word in with you rushing around.
Really, it was your fault. You could acknowledge that, yet there were times where you thought blaming your misfortunes on others was the way to go to feel better about yourself. Jaemin in particular, because of course he had to say something (read: make you realize a few things) to inflict a milder version of brain damage. And there was also Haechan, a glorified, overzealous leech who drained a smidge too much of your life force last night.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh, right.”
And maybe you were really out of it, mind not being all too present, nor did you really care to ask what it was exactly you forgot because you decided that the expectancy on the demon’s face and his permanent pouted lips were context clues hinting to something. Sleep-addled brain put two and two together, then your body decided to move first, crossing the short distance between you and the demon and pulling him down by the nape to slot your lips in between his. It was a firm press. Brief, yet sweet and smiling against his mouth was as easy as breathing when Haechan returned the warmth in earnest.
Then, it was like your brain decided to do a factory reset. A quick zap to the frontal lobe where you became more alert than necessary, peering up at Haechan with wide, shaking eyes when you roughly pulled away as if the kiss burnt.
“I was talking about your lunch,” he said after a beat, lifting the Kuromi lunch-bag with a coy smile, like he was biting back the urge to laugh. “but that works too.” He’s teasing you, appearing boyish with an arched eyebrow and you prayed for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
Oh my fucking God.
“Right! Um—” you cut yourself short with a nervous laugh and numbly reached for it, totally ignoring how his eyes—right now, a close color to the embers from a campfire—were boring holes into you. “Lighter. This feels lighter and—smaller?”
“You catch on quick,” Haechan snorted. “Tell YangYang we’re going through a recession. He can’t share with you anymore if he knows what’s good for him.” Then, his eyes narrowed, still a touch teasing. “Should I be worried that you’re kissing him too?”
Your face was burning at this point.
“I’m leaving.”
You had never run away from a situation so quickly.
Breathing heavily, you slumped against a pillar in the small reception area of the apartment complex, heart racing at an unimaginable speed with the last thing you saw before you ran out of the apartment replaying over and over again: Haechan grinning to himself with his fingertips brushing against his lower lip.
He’s so… He. Is. So. You couldn’t even articulate the mess of emotions currently making your chest feel so tight. So tightly wound up like a watermelon with an obscene amount of rubber bands wrapped around it that if you had stayed longer, chances are you would have exploded into a mess of your feelings, splattered right at Haechan’s feet.
He just had to reciprocate the kiss, as if it was a natural response between people who had no exact label to what this was between them; and you fear that there was no way you’d be able to come back from that. Thinking about coming back home was already giving you cold feet.
Just as you were about to leave the building, your phone vibrated.
haechan 👹: babe? haechan 👹: you forgot your socks and shoes lol
Cold. Your feet were actually cold and looking down, your bare feet greeted you. The lack of two crucial items didn’t even register in your head from being so flustered.
you: . you: omw back haechan 👹: ok ! haechan 👹: do i get another kiss 👉🏼👈🏼 you: haechan. haechan 👹: sorry 🫡
There’s a shit-eating grin on the demon’s face.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
You slammed the door close behind you, feet now protected with the socks and shoes and your heart even less so.
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“Um,” Yunjin started the moment she walked into a very peculiar setting of YangYang hovering unsure and awkwardly behind your slumped figure trying to permanently fuse into the table with Renjun seemingly unbothered by all of this, scribbling on his iPad. “What’s up with her?”
YangYang’s eyebrows pinched even further. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He decided that a gentle approach wasn’t gonna cut it when you were about to keel over before any of them could figure out just why you were craving for the sweet release of death. Which, yeah, he could totally understand, but YangYang was nosy as all Hell before anything else and something like death could wait.
“She’s been like that for the past 10 minutes,” Renjun helpfully supplied before the other only guy in the room could wage psychological warfare. “Whining something about embarrassment, some hot guy in her apartment, feeling inadequate due to the pressure women face in society—“
“Hold on, what?”
“Feeling inadequate due to the—“
“No, dipshit, the one before that.”
“Some hot guy in her—” Renjun cut himself short and turned his head at breakneck speed to gape at you. “Since when were you seeing a guy?”
Yunjin’s face twisted, “you’re into guys?”
“A hot guy,” YangYang emphasized. “How big is his dick?”
“YangYang!” Yunjin hissed, bright orange hair whipping around wildly as she smacked him upside the head right when you answered with a resigned, “felt like I couldn’t breathe once.”
Yunjin looked like she had seen death altogether. “I already hate this conversation.”
Despite herself, Yunjin was all ears as you spilled the whole ‘hot guy’ situation; the dire details of Haechan and him being a century-something-old incubus being covered up by a multitude of lies. The most damning of them all being Haechan was an estranged friend you had recently reconnected with which landed you in the position of housing him for an indefinite amount of time.
And let’s not forget the recent development of you harboring real and scary feelings for a guy that had semi-permanently warmed your bed. In more ways than one.
This was sick and twisted. Haechan was supposed to be just some demon you’d occasionally sexualize, and now it felt wrong to do even that. You wanted to hold his hand. You wanted to wake up to his face everyday, marveling at the constellation of moles that stretched from neck to face forming Ursa Minor. You wanted to kiss him. His lips. His cute button nose. His cheeks—everywhere on his face until it was Haechan whining for you to stop.
(He’d probably let you continue anyway. You whined at the thought).
“Okay, but I don’t see how it’s a problem when you’ve done worse than kissing.”
“I kissed him before I left,” you whispered. “we aren’t even dating.”
“My condolences,” Yunjin said, gently patting your back.
You moaned, burying your face into your arms. “I wished we were dating.” Or whatever the Hellian equivalent was.
“... my condolences.” Yunjin said again, quieter, as Renjun let out the ugliest snort you didn’t think he was capable of producing. You always viewed him as someone with no flaws whatsoever. At least you now knew that he wasn’t that unreachable.
YangYang was a little more dramatic with his reaction, his eyes almost bugging out of their sockets and looking as if you had killed his first born. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! I didn’t even know you were seeing someone! What else have you been up to?”
“Well,” you shifted so that it was your cheek resting on your arms to properly talk to the three faces of varying curiosity (read: nosiness). “I’m unemployed now.”
“You quit your job?” YangYang’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his pink fringe. “Why? Aren’t you, like, poor? How’s that gonna work?”
Damn. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to put it like that.
“I hate being your friend,” Renjun said, on the verge of strangling the guy. “are you socially inept?”
“I mean, I was home schooled until 11th grade, so…”
“Anyways!” you decided to cut in, now sitting up properly to prevent a possible crime scene from happening when you caught Renjun’s eye twitch. “Yes, I quit my job. But I’ll be fine. I—” you also could not say that your expenses were being handled by a demon. “—gained financial support. No, I will not elaborate.”
“Is that the clinical way of saying you got a sugar daddy?”
Technically, yeah. “Please be quiet.”
“No, actually.” YangYang huffed and you tried to make him explode with your mind. “And since you’re, like, jobless now, this means you can party!”
“You barely had any time for us ‘cause of your insane schedule,” Yunjin interjected from the sidelines. “and since once is coming up, it’d be nice to experience our own overachiever throwing back shots.”
You wrinkled your nose. Not that it was a no-no, but when was the last time you went out drinking and/or partying with friends anyway? Drinking became an on-and-off thing with Haechan (Jaemin and his human sometimes joining in) and was the closest thing to a fun night, so you at least kept your tolerance in check. Experiencing Seoul’s nightlife though, you couldn’t say there were plenty of memories, or any that stood out to you.
“Plus, it’s a Halloween costume party!” said YangYang as he sat down beside you. Renjun and Yunjin doing the same across you. “And I know you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of judging shitty costumes.”
“Not shitty ones. The ones barely putting any effort into making it look like a costume, however...”
“Same difference,” YangYang waved you off. “Drinks are on me if you come. Your boy-toy can tag along if he wants. Maybe seeing you slutting it up in a nurse costume would change his mind and actually put a label on you two.”
Okay, one, you were pretty sure that ‘slutty nurse’ was so last season and has been since the late 2010s, and two—
“Absolutely not.”
YangYang’s extended invitation was straight-up refused, and thus the recurring irony of temptation personified resisting temptation, a.k.a, free drinks.
(Putting a label on it was obviously out of the question).
“And I can pay for our drinks just fine.” Haechan scoffed, pupils flashing a momentary carmine in irritation. If YangYang were here, the ‘sugar daddy’ debacle would no less be the topic of discussion and something that would probably get the demon to soften up. “YangYang can shove his money up his ass.”
Never mind. You can already imagine an incubus and an imp duking it out in a dark alley somewhere. You’ve always wondered who’d win in a fight.
“So you’ll come?”
“No.”
“You’re so boring.”
And he was very adamant with his decision of not tagging along. In the days that led up to the party, Haechan’s answers had been firm variations of ‘no’s’. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the incubus was still jealous of the idea that YangYang, an imp, was friends with you (“he’s attached himself to you,” Haechan grumbled to himself. “I’m dragging him back to Hell myself.” You were way too baffled to even say anything) which then festered into immediate dislike.
“Oh, he’s totally jealous.” said Jaemin. Why you called Jaemin to complain about Haechan was honestly a new low for you, but he’s the one who knew the incubus on a deeper scale besides you, so. You made way more terrible decisions than this. “and petty too, I guess.”  
“He literally has no reason to be when I—” you gestured vaguely into the air, “you know…”
“Want him up your guts physically and emotionally?” Jaemin snorted. “yeah I got that.”
“Why do you talk like that—you know what, never mind. Point is, he’s being so unreasonable, and less fuckable the longer this goes on.”
“And you complain about the way I talk,” the demon laughed,  “Listen, Haechanie’s—he’s weird about feelings sometimes, I promise. It’s just… the mark. It says everything.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Ignorance is bliss,” Jaemin said, vaguely, with a charming smile that would usually distract anyone who only knew him on a surface level. You briefly fantasized reaching for him through the phone and strangling him to death. Knowing Jaemin though, he’d probably like it, the freak.
“What—asshole.” Jaemin hung up, FaceTime feed faded with his ridiculous contact image displayed, leaving you to ruminate your whirlwind of thoughts as you fell back onto the sheets.
The sun was almost always spoken with reverence. How its light breathed life into anything it touched. How its warmth was like a kiss from a lover—that sort of thing. Everyday, you wake up to the sun, one less warm than the other and as you lifted up your wrist to scrutinize Haechan’s sigil, its opaqueness against your skin was like facing an insult.
The technicalities of it all were almost headache inducing from how wishy-washy both demons were with it. All you knew was that the sun meant that you were Haechan’s. That was true in every way you could think of, but was he yours in return? You didn’t think he was. Maybe when you were tangled up in the sheets with him, but not when you were your own person anywhere else in apartment 66.
Haechan never did anything beyond imprinting his sigil onto your skin. Sex was just sex. It never went beyond a deeper, emotional scale and you would be lying if you said you were completely content with not having him wholly.
The first thing Haechan did as he burst into your bedroom was to laugh.
“You’re going in that?” he said through his giggles and doing a horrendous job at keeping them back even with a hand over his mouth. “nothing white, silky or lacy will cover the fact that you’ve let a demon corrupt you.”
“Fuck off.” You shot him an irritated look through the full-length mirror. “As if anyone knows I’ve been fucking a demon. An annoying one at that.”
“Ah-ah, angels aren’t supposed to cuss!”
“Get fucked,” you said, bored, and too focused on getting your make up right to pay attention to Haechan essentially eye-fucking you from the doorway. “It’s either this, or I go as a succubus. Turns out, I don’t want to be the very thing I hate.”
Which was, by the way, a total bold-faced lie where you could just tell Haechan wasn’t exactly buying it from the delighted smile he threw your way. Other than that, you looked cuter than if you had somehow settled with a cheap nurse gown. White, silky and lacy. Synonymous to anything inherently ‘angelic’ and something he would have fun in ruining to go with the whole concept of corrupting ‘the pure’.
“We would have matched, then.”
“We would,” you echoed. “But you aren’t even going.”
“I’m not,” he nodded and crossed the room to reach you. “At least I know you’re still coming home to me.”
It’s a mere fact, yet you’d like to think there was something more for you to pick apart. Warm hands perched on your hips and the way he seemed to take your reflection carefully, as if he was committing this dolled-up version of yours to memory with his gaze backlit by a strange amalgamation of emotions that were foreign to you. It wasn’t anything too alarming. If anything, all it did was make your heart skip a beat. A sweet face with eyes so intense you might as well drown in them. How could it not?
“You do live here.” Tilting your head, you gauged your own costume with your mouth drawn into a thin line, steeling yourself before you faced him and took on a coy approach. “Are you sure this is not convincing you enough?”
Haechan hummed.
Well…
If it were up to him, you wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom, but he did commend your method of persuading him to come. A low chuckle rumbled from within the incubus as he was pushed onto the bed with you climbing on his lap and your lips locked with his. It was more tongue than anything else as Haechan took the reins. Slick, slow, but with purpose like he was speaking through each wet slide of his tongue.
You gently pushed him by the chest, separating with a loud smack and a deep exhale from you, “who’s convincing who again?”
“Me,” Haechan said with no preamble, dragging his lips down from your cheek to your throat. “This is me convincing you—crazy sex with me,” it’s ridiculous to think his proposition was sort of working. A very tempting offer right when his sharp canines teasingly poked at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, making you shudder. It’s what you were asking for, wasn’t it? Now he’s offering it on a silver platter with no hesitation. “or your dumb Halloween party? Take your pick.”
Decision making was the very last thing your mind could do at the moment when Haechan was hell-bent on keeping you where you were, and you weren’t really resisting him because if anything, you were making it a whole lot easier. Fingers tangled in the hair curling at his nape, a leg hooked over his hip, it won’t be long until you give in and spend the long Halloween night with him. 
Then the doorbell rang.
“That’s Yunjin,” you mumbled against his lips. “I really gotta go—are you hard from just kissing? Even that’s a new low for you.”
There’s a flush high on Haechan’s cheeks when he reluctantly pulled away with a pinched expression, his mouth smudged with your lipstick and for a moment, the choice of staying weighed heavy with the benefit of painting cherry red marks on his beautiful skin.
“Can you blame me?” Heachan chewed on his lip before he huffed when the doorbell rang again, a petulant pout sitting on his lips. “The silk looks so easy to rip off and it’s an actual crime that you’re leaving me.”
“You are such a dude,” you laughed, a little winded as you pushed him off and rushed towards the mirror to assess the damage. “Ugh, you smudged my lipstick and like, a bit of my face makeup,” you groaned which was immediately replied with a click of a tongue.
“You’re the one who pushed me on the bed, so… hardly my fault.”
Heat crept up your neck, “semantics.”
“It’s really not that hard to admit that you want me. Your actions say enough.” 
“Maybe it’s just your mag—”
“It’s not my magic, and it’s not my sigil doing it either.”
Well, that excuse was good while it lasted. You couldn’t think of anything else to say and so you settled with rolling your eyes as your version of raising your white flag as you made work with fixing up yourself, ignoring Haechan’s leering.
“You are actually so bad at being honest,” he complained as he got up and trudged towards you. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
You arched an eyebrow, but let him wrap his arms around your waist. “Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?”
“Darling, that’s an entirely different sentence.” He sighed, hooking his chin onto your shoulder as he squeezed. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that you can always tell me anything and I mean anything.”
“Anything?” You repeated and he nodded, earnest. “Okay, would you mind distracting Yunjin for a bit? She gets impatient.”
You yelped when Haechan nipped your ear out of nowhere. “Not what I meant,” he grumbled, but did as he was told anyways.
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“Hey,” Haechan caught your wrist before you were out of the door, Yunjin waiting outside. “Stay safe, alright?”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d just come, y’know.”
The incubus pulled you back with a snort, “you’re never letting me live that down, huh?”
“Never.” He rolled his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
“Girl, you are beyond saving,” Yunjin giggled as she looped her arm through yours right after you pulled the door close. “C’mon, before you start clawing through your own door.”
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Haechan was definitely onto something when he said he was a homebody above anything else.
That’s one of the few things you had in common with the incubus in spite of your busy schedule built around your academics, clubs, committees and your tutoring sessions and coming home to a place that radiated warmth was a great compromise from having, more or less, busy days. Perhaps it was the reason why you felt so attached to apartment 66.
And the one time you had willingly traded comfort for a fun night out was where you found yourself in deep shit.
To be fair, the night started off great. This wasn’t your usual scene as you much preferred something a little more intimate rather than being suffocated by wriggling bodies, but the place was nice; one of the more upscale clubs and you supposed you were getting your time’s worth from YangYang making good on his promise. Free shit was the best shit and in no time, every single one of you drank like everything was water. Even the dubious mix of shots you’d normally avoid were thrown back with little resistance.
At some point in the night, right after you had your fill of dancing with your friends, all of you went your separate ways which you had no idea how that even happened when you had practically stuck yourself to Yunjin.
Now, you were completely alone and maybe you were drunker than you had expected to be, because somehow, the people wearing costumes of the creepy crawly creatures from all sorts of tales and legends looked a little too real for comfort. It’s either these were insanely talented art students dabbling in prosthetics for fun, or the guy that just walked by was actually a troll, since, of course supernaturals wouldn’t shy away from a party that sort of celebrated them and the dead. 
(Also, you didn’t think anyone would willingly consider ‘troll’ as a costume choice, but to each their own).
You were buzzing from head to toe, eyelids becoming heavier by the second as your vision started to blur around the edges, the drowsiness slowly creeping in. You’ve always been a sleepy drunk, chatty at times too, but there wasn’t anyone in close proximity that was deserving of your rambling. None of your friends were in sight and the eerie feeling of being watched caused goosebumps to raise on your skin.
And this wasn’t remotely close to what you’ve experienced back home before you were made aware of Haechan. While the incubus you were essentially playing an R-rated version of house with meant no harm, this—whatever this was—felt sinister.
Everywhere you went, the lingering feeling of eyes stayed on your person. A prey being sized up by an apex predator hidden in plain sight and it was so apparent that some sobriety decided to grace you, pushing you to try and call your friends. Try being the keyword here because of-fucking-course none of them had sober enough braincells to pick up a damn phone call. So you did the next best thing: leave.
Everything in you was screaming for you to leave. Do not, under any other circumstances, look back even if this one guy who you bumped into was dressed as some socially acceptable furry. The dog ears were too real to be a headband, not to mention the wagging tail.
Which brings you back in the present: you being in deep shit.
In your defense, you did run out of there like you’ve never had run before. But obviously, you weren’t as fast as you needed to be. A careless miscalculation and now you were trapped—by the very thing you were warned about.
The brick walls dug into the back of your head and your shoulder blades as you let out a hiss, teeth gritting as this monster wrapped its claws around your throat and pushed you further into the jagged wall.
“It’s like you humans have a death wish.” 
You were barely a step past the nearest alley from the club when you were roughly dragged into the dank space, mind all over the place with an escape plan barely formed. Actually, you don’t think you can come up with one right now. Or ever.
“I’m a little hungry anyways.”
Okay so maybe you took back the whole ‘not being scared of most things normal people were scared of’ thing because you were, in fact, scared of dying. In an alley of all places. Terror. Sheer, unadulterated terror washed over you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Frozen, unable to do anything but let the claws leave scratches on your skin that you might as well be staring Death right in the face.
Death was a burly man—a head taller than you at most. Death was nothing, yet everything where it was kind of hard to discern just what he was. The alley was dark, but he was darker from the shadows acting like second skin as its inky haze rose and fell, tendrils made of smoke reaching for nothing in particular. The very same thing it would do when Haechan took on this exact form. Then it all clicked.
Death to you was a demon.
The kind you were not at all familiar with. The kind you knew had eyes that glowed with warmth, this one burned with the intent to hurt. Maim. Kill. The one you come home to every day greeted you with a smile just as warm as the sunset that peaked through the curtains he bought, this one grinned like the monsters parents would tell naughty children about, teeth razor sharp that were enough to tell you that he’s meant to use them to rip you apart.
The one you would willingly break yourself apart for breathed life into you. This one was about to take yours and then break you apart by his own hands—by his own claws. 
Haechan would never, this monster would and just like Death, it didn't wait for anything and its claws sunk into your side, ripping out a pained scream from your lungs as you struggled fighting back against. The monster only laughed and laughed, and laughed until hot tears streamed down your cheeks from the searing pain.
“That’s right, human,” he cackled. “Scream.”
God, did it hurt. The pain was unimaginable that you couldn’t even think of anything to compare it to and—Oh God. Haechan. How the Hell were you going to explain all this when you’re dead? Knowing him, it’s more than likely he’d avenge you, but how will he when he doesn't even know who had done this to you? It’s not like he could ask Satan for a list of all demons who were out on Halloween night, preying on innocent humans.
You would have laughed right at this moment honestly. Funny that even death could not stop you from thinking of the demon waiting for you at home. Maybe you should have just stayed in with him to save him all the trouble. Maybe this would have been the night where you told him he wasn’t just the incubus you’d call for when you had the extra energy to burn in bed. Maybe this would have been the night where you would confess that you’ve grown to care for him more than you should have.
Your mind called for Haechan. Your heart called for Haechan. Everything in you called for Haechan that you didn’t even realize you were actually calling out for him, much to the monster’s confusion as he stared at the glowing spot on your wrist.
With each second passing, you grew weaker and weaker, yet you still had a stubborn grip on consciousness because 1.) the claws stuck into your side hurt like a fucking bitch that you simply refused to pass out and 2.) If you were going to die, you at least hoped that the universe listened to you one last time and granted you a few extra minutes with Haechan to say your goodbyes.
Then the strangest thing happened.
Call it divine intervention, if you will, because one second, the demon was right in front of you. Tall and menacing and was so close to going in for the jugular where his breath ghosted against your décolleté, then he was toppled over by a blurry mass of smoke the next, like the monster’s burly build was nothing. The biggest ones fall the hardest after all.
It hurt less now. Barely bearable on the pain scale as you sagged against the brick wall, sliding all the way down until you were sitting with a hand pressing tightly against the bleeding wound once you remembered a post online that it would help to buy some time until you were brought to the hospital or something.
The scuffling then caught your attention, followed by curses and shouting in a language you didn’t understand. Though you knew enough to tell that both were angry, Haechan being the angriest you have ever heard him.
“Haechan,” you gasped, taking in the sight with widened eyes of the incubus lowered to a crouch and having the monster in a chokehold.
Both their backs were turned to you and only Haechan had the capacity to peer over his shoulder and there you saw it: pure rage contorting his face with his mouth drawing into an ugly sneer at the state of you. White slowly being stained by the redness of blood just as the shadows rapidly enveloped Haechan’s figure with your attacker struggling to break free from his hold.
“Close your eyes.”
It was demanded by a voice that was not his own, but a myriad of voices of all ranges entangled that left no room for any argument and so you did as he asked. Nothing came after that. A few seconds delay at most before the scuffling against the ground resumed, the same enraged snapping from your attacker as Haechan hissed and fought back with some choice words and expletives you haven't heard of ever.
Haechan spoke again, rage still present in the same unknown language with a level of finality. Almost like a threat and promise molded into one until the monster’s incessant squabbling was put to a stop after a sickening snap, loud even with the Halloween party goers littering the streets at this time of night that it made you flinch, your eyes still remaining closed. You just knew you wouldn’t want to see whatever Haechan did to the thing.
A wet and heavy thump. Followed by an exasperated sound that was somewhat of a mix between a huff and sigh. At the sound of his shoes dragging against the cement, still you kept your eyes shut and it wasn’t until warm hands cradled your damp cheeks did you finally open them.
Even in the dimness of the alley, Haechan still retained that unnatural glow to him. Beautiful, hauntingly so that the splatters of blood across his face did nothing but elevate it all. His eyebrows pinched together in concern as he took your hand that was pressed against the spot where you bled and cursed softly at the gnarly sight.
“Next time, I’m coming with you.” You could hear his voice tremble, but you didn’t comment on it and instead let him gather you up in his arms, minding your side as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Hell, you scared me. I was with Jaemin and out of nowhere, I started feeling anxious. I couldn’t breathe and—and I felt like I was stabbed.”
Your own eyebrows pinched at the information too. Those were everything you felt during that unwanted encounter with that demon that you sure hoped was gone. “How’d you even find me?” You didn’t think he would find you in some gross alley in Gangnam by pure intuition alone.
“This,” Haechan said as the blunt edge of his nail traced the inked sun on your wrist. “My sigil isn’t just for show, y’know. It’s like a warp point. I even heard you calling out to me. You sounded like you were in trouble.” 
Well, yes. That was obvious. “I’m just glad I didn’t become, like, a midnight snack. Thanks to the sun acting as an AirTag, basically.” You chuckled, leaning your head against the brick wall. “With extra features.”
Haechan laughed, softly, and leaned in to press his lips to your cheek. “Yeah, basically.”
That at least improved his mood. You weren’t entirely used to the very rare instances where Haechan had to be serious. It was strange to see him like that when you would always leave it up to him, lifting up the mood whenever you thought was necessary. Perhaps you and your near death experience was too much even for him. That maybe he did care for you just as much as you did him and making him laugh was the least you could do. 
“Grandma was right.” you joked, cracking a smile just as he assessed the damage. “The city isn’t too safe.” 
“It really isn’t, but you have me. You’ll always have me.” and he spoke with so much promise, gaining some distance just enough for him to stare into your eyes, amber trading in for a deep carmine. And it was only right to believe him. “Whenever and wherever, I will be there when you need me.”
“You’re sweet,” you smiled, then winced when reality came crashing with the stinging pain in your side. “but can we get out of here? Do I need to go to the hospital, or can you somehow heal me with your freaky demon magic?”
Haechan then gets this constipated sort of look. “I can’t exactly heal humans. I can only slow down the residual magic that fucker left from spreading and—um…”
“And? Why are you hesitating.” The incubus pursed his lips, eyes straying to the side. “That’s not good. That’s never good. You never hesitate when you talk to me.”
He chewed on his lower lip before answering and you did not like the look on his face. “From a scale of 1-10, how pissed will you be if I tell you that you could die if we don’t get that out of you?”
“A solid 9.5,” you said almost immediately. “Get this shit out of me right now.”
“Right,” the pain dwindled down to something less painful, but still rather uncomfortable as Haechan’s glowing hand pressed against the wound. “Can you try calling Renjun?”
“I tried earlier. Not sure if he’ll pick up now.”
“Damn. How about Chenle?”
“I’m… not actually sure, but I’ll try.” You paused, suspicious. “Why though?”
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
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“I can’t fucking believe this,” you moaned in slight discomfort as Haechan set you on the bed. “You’re telling me these two are witches? How do you even know Renjun?”
“I’ve known him since I moved here for college. He supplies me with the weirder shit I need for my potions,” Renjun appeared like he either swallowed something sour, or he actually felt guilty hiding this from you and leaving you all alone. A stark juxtaposition from Chenle, visibly buzzing with excitement. “You didn’t tell me you were sleeping with an incubus.”
“Aw babe,” said incubus cooed. “you talk to your friends about us?”
You grunted, lifting up your top to reveal the still bloody wound. “Now is really not the time."
“It’s a good thing you called right away, or else you’d be fucked to Hell and back,” Chenle chirped and he looked between you and Haechan knowingly in a way that warmed up your cheeks. “Then again, guess you already have been.” He grinned, almost cat-like.
You stared at the ceiling. It’s like everyone around you had no concept of what a verbal filter was. “Are you gonna heal me or not?”
Chenle got a smack on the head for that, whining softly as Renjun retracted his hand. “Sorry about him. He’s my apprentice.” The older witch said, almost resigned and folded both of his sleeves up. “Explains the whole transferee thing. He couldn’t bother to wait—may I?” Renjun gestured to your wound just as he jerked his head for Chenle to do the same.
“Go crazy. I think it’s catching up to me.”
You were starting to slur your words. Not to mention how weak you were starting to feel that you couldn’t even wiggle your limbs. You were burning up and with the panic on Haechan’s face no less, Renjun and Chenle got to work. Both of their hands glowing a bright green with Renjun pressing his fingertips along the tender skin.
“That is not very pleasant,” you said, grimacing at the sensation of tiny needles poking and prodding along your side. “Yeah, no. I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“Sleep,” Haechan stressed, a hand stroking your calf. “You’ll feel less like shit in the morning.”
“Fine. Don’t go anywhere or I’ll kill you.” You mumbled, fading as the magic continued to cleanse you of whatever vile magic that was. Maybe that’s why it kind of hurts. Renjun and Chenle’s combined magic were technically cleaning it out.
Haechan laughed, smiling sweetly. “Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”
Renjun gagged. “Disgusting.”
That was all you needed to hear, and so you slept.
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Contrary to popular belief, you were never a morning person. Otherwise, you would have done something about it if you weren’t so fixed with the overloaded schedule you had been following since the start of your college career.
This morning wasn’t safe from your contempt either as last night’s happenings came flooding back into your head. The chase, the attack and somehow getting saved in the nick of time. The panic from narrowly avoiding death from weird demon magic then Renjun and Chenle coming in clutch with sucking that shit out with their own purified magic and healing the stab wounds.
All in all, wild night. Never doing that again unless Haechan tagged along to protect you from the elements (see: hungry-for-humans supernaturals).
Though you supposed the mentioned incubus made this morning a little worth waking up. Your body was almost out of commission from how it aches, but your eyes worked perfectly fine. Maybe a little crusty, but even the eye crust couldn’t block how gorgeous Haechan could be underneath the warm glow of the late morning sun. It was almost unreal, like a dream come to life.
Heachan’s bare back was to you, sun-drenched and moles generously kissing his broad shoulders and down the length of his smooth back as if a past lover had done everything in their power to mark the love they had for him in small and permanent little dots. Though your admiration had to cut itself short when you had caught sight of something that you hadn’t noticed before right as the covers shifted downwards to show more of him.
Just at the top of his boxer briefs sat two dark lines that were at least half a centimeter wide and a couple of inches long—the length of your palm perhaps, sitting on the opposite sides of his spine where you’d think the dimples of his back would have been.
Curious, you reached out, only to be stopped by Haechan catching your wrist.
“Getting handsy with me already?” Haechan inhaled a slow breath before yawning as he stretched and shifted to lie on his back, your wrist still in his hand now resting on the bare skin of his stomach. Smooth and warm with sleep that you unconsciously moved closer, his other hand tracing your spine. “Good morning to you too.” He said with a sleepy smile, eyes curved like crescent moons as he gazed down at you simply watching him—adoring him in his sleepy state.
Words simply could not find their way to you at the moment, so you only managed a hum, rubbing your nose against his skin.
He sighed at the feeling, “what were you doing?”
“Just looking. You have lots of moles. Kinda like constellations,” you mused, which pulled out an amused huff from Haechan, letting go of your wrist for you to wrap an arm around his waist. “There are also these… lines above your ass? Cuts? Scars? What’s that about?”
“This is the least sexiest conversation we’ve had so far.”
“Stop deflecting,” you said, placing a hand on his chest for your chin to rest on, scrutinizing the creeping hesitance on his person. “and tell me what they are.”
It went quiet. Silence filling in the spaces seemed to be a frequent thing now as you watched Haechan process everything that had transpired within the last five minutes with his face. Thoughts easily floating up to the surface by each pinch of his eyebrows, or twitch of his lips and then settling with a conceding sigh, peering down at you with little hesitance that soon crumbled into nothing when he was met by your own resilience. 
“Up for a little bit of show and tell?”
That was going to be a bit one-sided. You had nothing to show. Nothing unique in that regard, that is, as you were, in every sense of the word, human. Painfully human. Comparing yourself with the likes of Haechan who had been part of countless tales told throughout centuries was like pitting a diamond (Haechan) against a sheet of metal (you). Like, yeah, both had their own uses, but diamonds were on a higher, more exclusive pedestal and out of reach. 
And Haechan was just that to you. Out of reach, and yet somehow, he had no qualms on closing the distance himself. As if it was natural for him to be this close to the point of considering the idea that you are simply the extensions of each other.
At the very least, you were right in assuming ‘show and tell in the bedroom’ was a one-sided thing. You were also right that Haechan would take this whole thing in stride; being the sole presenter for this morning’s shenanigans involving the very reason why he wouldn’t fuck you until you were a moaning, whimpering and crying mess. A miracle, really, that you’ve managed to survive the unwanted ‘Only Oral October’ challenge the incubus had going on.
Golden skin stretched miles over Haechan’s lithe and slim figure. Moles and freckles carelessly, yet artfully speckled along the expanse of sunshine while you laid on your back—manhandled to do so—simply admiring the incubus sitting on his haunches between the spread of your thighs without the faintest clue of what there was to show. You were already aware of the horns sprouting from his head and the arrowhead tail languidly swishing behind him. What else was there?
“What are you showing me exactly?”
“Just… wait.” his lips pressed together into a thin line. “I’m mentally preparing myself for this one.”
Okay, that was very ominous, much like how Jaemin tip-toed around the conversation pertaining to Haechan’s prior incapability of sticking his dick into your hole and you were kind of getting antsy with the way he was dragging this out, gatekeeping his everything from you.
You ended up pouting and Haechan, who usually would fold at the sight of it, only narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be me? You look like you’re trying to take a shit.”
Haechan sputtered, “am not! You’re so annoying.”
“What can I say? To be fucked, is to be changed.”
“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” he shook his head, face settling into absolute seriousness. “You sure about this?”
A click of your tongue. “Don’t make me beg.”
There’s an odd shine to his eyes, but it was gone the moment Haechan straightened his back as he stayed quiet. It was faint, but the hissing sound gradually grew louder just as a cloud of smoke materialized somewhere behind him. The smoke grew considerably darker and darker until it was the same inky black you’ve grown accustomed to whenever Haechan donned it as second skin, gradually becoming corporeal as it took on the shape—multiple shapes of something long, dark as the night sky with a sheen to them as they elongated above Haechan’s head. Writhing and curling in different lengths and girths merely floating about, as if they were waiting for the incubus’ instructions.
Though one of them seemed to have a mind of its own, Haechan appeared to be aware of it, the very picture of exasperation as it wriggled closer to you.
“Oh that feels weird,” you mumbled in wonder, watching a tendril, as thick as two of your fingers combined, wound around your wrist, palm and a finger. The feel of it was strange. Warm, velvety smooth and it was slicked with a viscosity foreign to you, but it made the glide easier against your skin all the same. “What are you exactly?”
Haechan easily chuckled at the question. Probably a frequent subject among his previous conquests. “A nightmare come to life? I don’t think you’ll like me as much for what I truly am under all of this. While this human form gets the much needed attention, it’s also a good distraction from all this too,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the ghostly limbs inching toward you.
You hummed, agreeing with the attention part, and particularly feeling a little honest, “you're a beautiful nightmare, I can give you that,” and you can’t help but laugh at his preening. He knew he was gorgeous in every sense of it, but this was Haechan and you know of him to be a bit of a whore for attention. “As a distraction? I don’t think your face can distract me from these,” and it was then did the tendrils of smoke found purchase around your limbs. 
“It’s just like being surrounded by more of you and—oh.” You stuttered to a stop when another particularly handsy tentacle slithered under your shirt, winding around the fullness of your right breast and pulling a sharp gasp when the slick tip rubbed and flicked at the hardened bud. “Fuck. That’s still so fucking weird. You aren’t even doing anything but—” the thought was cut off by a whine of your own and another one joined the fray, giving your other tit the same treatment just as Haechan bunched up your shirt to reveal the smooth skin being tainted by darkness underneath. “Do they—do they have a mind of their own?”
It took Haechan a beat too long to answer, visibly taken by his extra limbs exploring your bare torso. “Sometimes. But I’m in full control now.”
Right on cue, the tendrils creeped up your thighs like climbing plants with the goal to cover everything in sight, only these acted more as sentient ropes that spread your legs wider to accommodate the incubus. This was a position you were accustomed to as Haechan did try to have you as frequent as you’d let him, yet you couldn’t help but feel shy. Embarrassed at the fact that there wasn't much for you to do in lessening the exposure with the tentacles keeping your legs in place, and you weren’t even stripped down to your barest.
With the way Haechan’s heated gaze raked the length of your body spread across the sheets, you could just tell his own imagination ran the wildest it could be, what with his eyes essentially devouring you. Haechan then leaned forward, close enough that you could feel his breath hot on your lips, as the rest of the smoky tendrils followed and attached themselves to your arms resting on either side of your head.
With how they wound tighter around your forearms, you had a faint idea on what was to come. And it wasn’t like you were against relinquishing all control for Haechan to take over, to do what he pleased. Nonetheless, the thought still had your heart rate picking up. This was new and you were starting to think that maybe you bit off more than you could chew with the subtle insistence of wanting Haechan to fuck you hard enough that you’d cry.
You just didn’t think tentacles would be involved. An unlikely variable you never would have guessed to be the center of the demon’s reluctance. No wonder he was wishy-washy with his reasons, they looked like something out of an all-consuming nightmare that most people would have been put off by. A beautiful one if it included their host.
As if sensing your troubles—his sigil’s doing, definitely—a warm palm cradled your jaw as Haechan dipped down for a sweet kiss to soothe you.
“I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” he reassured, pulling back. “just think of them as extra pairs of arms holding you down.”
“Well, more of you to get used to, then,” you said with a wry smile and finding a little bit of comfort when he puts more of his weight onto you for another kiss, mumbling, “I can take it.”
And so you did.
One, that is. Baby steps, as Haechan put it as one fucked in and out of your cunt in place of his fingers. The feeling was an odd mix of familiar and strange. Familiar as it did the job of pistoning in and out of you like those machines in porn (not that you had any experience besides the demon’s long and knobby fingers doing basically the exact same thing). Strange because it wasn’t what a dildo nor an actual cock would feel like, but fuck if it didn’t feel good. Mind-blowingly so. The considerable length reached places you nor Haechan’s fingers couldn’t within their limits, proved by the guttural groan punched out of you when the tip had accidentally bumped against your cervix.
But even you could run out of patience. This was literally just an elevated version of what you and Haechan had been doing. Time and time again, it was all basically foreplay and you’ve had enough.
This time, you wanted the real thing.
You wanted to be split on Haechan’s cock that hung heavily in between the mouthwatering honey thighs if it’s the last thing you’ll ever have.
“Want you,” you managed to get out between the stray moans and whimpers that fell from your parted lips.
“Hm?” If you were any less than horny, the wicked grin he had would have been smacked off. “But you do have me, see?” He cooed, thumb stopping from rubbing circles on your clit for his fingers wriggling in to join alongside the thin tentacle making work of your pussy. “Are you saying this isn’t enough?”
You shook your head, almost frantic as one of your arms struggled to break free from the tendrils. “Want this,” you stressed, reaching for his dick. The head was almost a deep angry purple from how hard he was and it was beyond you how his self-control lasted this long. Did he even feel pleasure when the extra limb was doing all the work? “Want you.”
“Say that again?” He egged on further, like it wasn’t obvious that he was just as desperate. You knew him enough to see right through the facade he puts up. “You want what, sweet girl?”
“Want you. Want you to fuck your cock in me. Please.”
“You say the sweetest things, human. It’s adorable,” He cooed. “and it’s just right that I give you everything you ask,” and Haechan sealed his promise with a filthy kiss. Harsh and wet that you were certain a mix of your spit drooled down your chin, only for him to lap it up with his tongue and make a mess of your mouth again.
“No more foreplay,” you said as you somehow managed to keep him from sticking his tongue down your throat again. “Seriously, that’s all we’ve been doing before. I can take it.”
And just like the very night things had escalated in the sexual sense, Haechan inclined his head and smiled.
“That night, I said that I wanted you to ride me.”
The nights of all nights. How could you forget? It had imprinted a very clear image into the seams of your brain that you’d occasionally daydream about the various possible outcomes if you hadn’t been rudely interrupted.
“Think you can do that for me now?”
Everything went by so fast that you weren’t given the chance to take a breath. In a blink of an eye, Haechan had both of your clothes removed and traded places with you by the guidance of the pitch black tendrils and the ones winding up the length of your arms loosened to let you bend forward and capture his lips just because. It always felt nice to kiss him, and you wouldn’t shy away from cashing one in at a crucial time to give yourself a little more time to brace yourself.
It took the both of you to get to the real thing. A team effort with you reaching in between your legs to align his cock to your center while Haechan and co. kept you steady with his hands clutching at your waist so tight that you were sure was going to leave finger-shaped bruises to fade over time. Quickly, if and if the demon kept his hands from wandering to the tender spots, but you could worry about that next time when there are more pressing matters at hand.
The sound Haechan made was almost inhuman just as a gasp flew past your mouth the second the glossy thick head of his cock breached your pussy. Inch by inch, you took him in as carefully as you could as it was an uncomfortable stretch for sure, given the experience you had gagging on it one too many times. Most of them being on pure impatience on your part and you weren’t going to risk a possible injury tonight. But just as the many times before, pleasure gradually overtook the discomfort.
“Oh my God,” you moaned, a high sound as you threw your head back. Nails digging into the meat of Haechan’s pecs as you rocked yourself to suck him in impossibly deeper, almost to the point of carving his shape into you and ruining yourself for any other man.
(You already did anyway. Developing real scary feelings for a literal Hell spawn).
“Oh, you’re into that?” Haechan quipped, hissing when you squeezed around him for his cheek. “I can be for you. How many times have you gotten on your knees for me again?”
Did he really have to antagonize you when you were milking him for what he’s worth? “Clearly not enough if you’re still talking.”
Haechan soon lost all sense of eloquence that should have been fit for a century-something-old demon once settling on a pace where the most you would get from was an incoherent sentence or two that you were sure were meant to be praises. Though you figured the pretty picture Haechan painted himself with the pleasure filled contort of his face was enough to say that you were doing something right. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be right behind him feeling blissed out yourself.
It was everything you could ask for really. The delicious girth of his cock stretching your cunt, rubbing against the sweet spots of your gummy walls had you sobbing his name when he would meet your movements in the middle. Skin slapping against skin leaving a mild tingling sensation from each bounce.
The heady pleasure only increased from there as the same pair of tendrils that toyed with your breasts resumed with their earlier ministrations of squeezing their fullness and flicking your nipples. A sneaky one, thinnest of them all had joined in on the fun too. Wrapping around Haechan’s dick like a coil and it wasn’t until you felt the ridges from your descent on his length did you even realize what had happened. Either way, it still felt good and soon enough, something warm simmered beneath your navel.
“Ah—Haechan,” you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic each time the combination of him and the tendril rubbed against your sweet spot. “I think… close,” you slurred, losing all strength as you fell forward, almost breaking your nose on his collarbone if it weren't for the tendrils keeping their steady hold around you. “Can’t,” it came out as a whine breathed against Haechan’s burning skin. “Please.”
That might have just triggered something in him, a visceral reaction of the demon growling—a sound that definitely wasn’t possible for a human to make—as his presence became so imposing, smothering you to the point that all of your senses were filled to the brim by everything Haechan. He wrestled you onto your back as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll with the back of your knees hooked onto his sturdy shoulders and in no time, you were effectively brought to tears by the brutal pistoning of his hips.
You were steadily growing overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations that ignited a simmering fire that spread underneath your skin. Mouth curling around each syllable of the demon’s name as you wailed with your back bowing against the bed when Haechan angled his hips, punching out a loud cry, bordering on a scream.
“Shh,” Haechan cooed as his thumb pressed onto your lower teeth to pry your mouth open, eyes wild and a wicked grin plastered on his face at the incoherent state that you were in. “You’re so loud. Our walls aren’t exactly soundproof, baby. I think I’m gonna have to shut you up if you can’t do it yourself.”
How? Was what you were going to ask if his thumb wasn’t pressing down onto your tongue, drool pooling in your mouth in almost an instant. Something else prodded against your lower lip and as you looked down the same two-fingered thick tendril slid into your mouth to replace his thumb, Haechan delighted as you moaned around the slick appendage shallowly thrusting in and out past your swollen lips.
You felt so full. Both your mouth and your cunt stuffed full that you thought it was a little fucked that you were enjoying the one rubbing against the flat of your tongue. The mysterious slick that coated it was surprisingly sweet, alomst candy-like and matching the citrusy sweet scent lingering around you 24/7.
You’ve never felt so fucked out ever in your life. This couldn’t even be compared to the past rounds of sex you’ve had with humans. This was an entirely different league on it’s own and fucking Hell, you were officially ruined. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to feel the same level of satisfaction from a human anymore, not when Haechan was capable of stimulating you in multiple ways by his own volition. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the people who had had him like this.
It was all so good. Too good, yet so overwhelming in every way and it wasn’t long before you wailed to completion, body seizing up as your vision whitened and leaving Haechan to chase his own release.
“You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,” Haechan chuckled, sounding breathless as his hand pressed down onto your navel to punch out a groan from you. “I’m so sorry for taking so long.” He soothed just as your mouth was freed so he could kiss you in apology.
He stayed that way. Close, ever so close that you were essentially breathing into each other’s mouths as Haechan’s thrusts grew frantic, almost animalistic until he pressed so tightly against your skin to spill thick ribbons of his cum into you, filling you up the brim that it leaked out even through the tight fit of his cock, wincing at the mess your sheets would soon be subjected to.
For a while, the only sounds that filled the bedroom were you both catching your breaths in sync, yours more labored while Haechan was more controlled.
“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly moments later when he thought you had come down from the floaty headspace you were in. “Wasn’t too much?”
“Perfect,” you sighed, tucking yourself closer into him. “Just perfect.”
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“Donghyuck.”
“Hm?”
Haechan’s magic had once again proved to be a useful asset in this home. It didn’t take that much time for both of you to recuperate from being fucked within an inch of your life, though he stuck to more traditional methods when it came to taking care of you. The sheets were decidedly changed with his magic, while he took it upon himself to clean both of you up with a hot shower where you might have fallen asleep once or twice on your feet.
It was a few minutes after noon. Lunch was had and you were sprawled across the couch where you had been made into a human cushion by Haechan, laying on top of him and simply basking in the stillness of the apartment until he spoke.
“Donghyuck was my name as a human.” He said, tilting his head with a smile void of anything that made him devious in nature. Something warm and sweet and reserved just for you. “Before becoming this. There’s this saying that knowing a demon’s name gives you power over it and I—I marked you. Made you mine without asking first and I think it’s fair that I give you my name. Give you me in return.”
That gave you a start, stiffening as you stared at him with owlish eyes and not quite believing the possible implications.
“Does that mean—”
“I am yours, as much as you are mine,” he said, warm palms holding your cheeks as he sat up to meet you in the middle. “As long as you want me to be.”
There was much more left to be said, certainly, but the way Haechan—Donghyuck kissed you so deeply as if you were his only life-line, pouring every thought and possible feelings that paralleled yours into each swipe of his tongue was enough. You had all the time in the world with him, an actual talk could wait.
For now, as you let yourself be wrapped into his embrace, this was enough.
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Special thanks to Aria, Moon and Aeriel for putting up with my ramblings about this fic and sharing their ideas! You have no idea how much of help u have been and I’m very thankful for you guys letting me talk my shit 🫶🏼💖 and thank you for reaching the end of this fic! Especially to the ones who asked to be on the taglist! I know it was a longer wait than expected so I really do hope it was worth it 💖
TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @maiisweet @jenodreamer @hancafe @gyulfriend @pleasetellmenow @cutiepeas @jaehyunpeachyy @alethea-moon @ohmyhuenings @sexygrass @favjake @02mrk @seulkikiii @notevenheretbh1 @rum-gone-why @minkyuncutie @crzns @saythenameseventeen178 @nae-vm @90s-belladonna @hismine @learnthisfeeling @taerifin @viciousdarlings @strawbabyz @novawon @surrealxox @xenkimmie @lanadreamie
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felixitate · 8 days
Text
needy | hhj (m.)
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pairing: hyunjin x reader
summary: you didn't think teasing Hyunjin with your other fwb would turn him this needy.
rating & word count: 2k | 18+ (minors gtfo)
genre/au: smut, college!au, fwb!au, crack? lol
warnings/content: pining? hints of jealousy? dirty talk, penetrative sex (lowkey rough ngl), groping, teasing, breast play, marking,
a/n: happiest 24th to the love of my life and my main muse in skz! 230820 hyunjin haunted me so much that i dreamed of him last year so here we are. i never thought i'd post him first in this blog tbh so nice to meet y'all :)
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“you’re busy?”
your lips fell into a frown after hearing that from your...whatever Hyunjin is to you. well, you should’ve expected that he could be busy when you visit. it’s technically your fault for showing up here in their dorms unannounced.
it just crossed your mind earlier to visit him today. no other reason at all.
“yeah, lowkey..” he sounds sorry, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempts to give you a rueful smile. 
you’re currently in his room, standing by the study table while he is organizing some art materials and books that he’s probably reading for one of his classes.
"hmm that's okay, i'll just head to jeno's then" you reassure him, fishing your phone to shoot your other friend Jeno a text.
as soon as Hyunjin heard the name, his regretful face changed into something else entirely. he knows Jeno from a couple of classes that they shared together since first year. and he unfortunately also knows how close the two of you are.
that’s why Hyunjin didn’t miss the kind of smile plastered on your pretty face right now. sitting down on his study chair, he watches your busy hands typing a response to whatever Jeno replied to you.
and you're stepping back slowly, away from him, to leave his room to go wherever your other fwb is.
"noooo"
you glance up from your phone after hearing that sound, raising your brows at Hyunjin. he’s making a grabby hand on his right while the other places the book he’s holding on the table. he looks adorable so you couldn’t help but take another step back just to tease him, enjoying how his pout went deeper.
being the natural tease that you are, you lift your tennis skort to keep your phone in your pocket, walking closer to Hyunjin with an amused smile. you had no plans to tease him but you couldn't placate the little pettiness bubbling in you.
resisting him's way more challenging though, especially when he's like this.
now it's indeed a mistake giving in to Hyunjin's adorable antics cause it gave him a chance to grab your whole body closer to him. he pulls you down to his lap, earning a surprise yelp from you but out of habit, your hands find themselves on his shoulders.
the two of you are staring at each other intently without saying anything. his hands though are comfortably holding your waist, a part of his habit of being the touchy person that he is.
you kinda have the same habit, your hands gradually moving to play around Hyunjin's long hair. you’d express how much you love his mullet the first time he had them, making use of it each time he eats you out.
it’s when he squeezes your waist that breaks your focus. there’s no pout on his gorgeous lips right now and before you could say something, one of his hands comes up to grab your face.
pulling you in for a kiss.
a somehow urgent one because his tongue prods your lips to open so you did. kissing Hyunjin’s been a favourite pastime of yours. sometimes you don’t even fuck and just make out when you meet up, something that’s probably not common in other people who are in the same case as you both.
your phone suddenly vibrates from your skort pocket, switching your attention to it. it’s probably Jeno so you should leave while you can. the brief making out should be enough for Hyunjin today.
but that seems to be not the case.
"hyune.." you start, attempting to concentrate despite feeling your body heating up as he continues pressing his lips on your jaw down to your neck after you break the kiss.
"hmm?" he mumbles against your skin, too busy sucking marks on your neck to pay attention to what you’re about to say.
"i-i need to leave..." a gasp escapes you, akin to a whine after his other arm pulls you in closer, causing your core to rub against his denim-clad crotch.
"after.." he whispers, lips moving down closer to your exposed chest.
both of Hyunjin’s hands are busy doing different things; one's stopping you from taking out your phone by palming your thighs and catching your hand to interlace it with his before bringing it back to his shoulders. the other is moving your hips back and forth so you end up grinding on him.
it’s like Hyunjin couldn’t hear you. all he’s thinking are ways to make you stay. he couldn’t possibly just let you leave with a simple kiss or makeout, he’s a better fwb than that. he can tell that whatever’s in that phone’s still in your mind but at least you're reciprocating, even rolling your hips against his hardening cock with bare guidance from his hands.
“but hyunjin..” he didn’t let you finish your sentence, immediately pulling down your top so he could have one of your tits in his mouth.
you thought that Hyunjin will treat them like usually does, sucking them gently while his hand does the same intensity with the squeezing. but today, he seemed determined, locking your shoulders as he alternates sucking your tits so you remained pliant.
this took you by surprise that you couldn’t help moaning his name and yelping when he bit your nipples. you have no idea what’s gotten into him. even when he’s needy, he’s never this rough but you’re liking it.
when Hyunjin was satisfied with playing with your tits, he hoists you up from his lap. you mindlessly follow, trying to remove your top but he beats you to it. he pushes you to his plush bed after, pouncing on you right away. after literally ripping the rest of your clothes off of your body, he gets rid of his except for his black tank top.
fully bare, you watch Hyunjin undress with awe. he’s too fucking gorgeous, with that thin necklace adorning his neck. your eyes miss the rings on his painted fingers too, catching your attention each time he pushes his long hair back.
his eyes are on you again, staring at your naked form like he can’t wait to devour you. feeling sexy at the way he stares, you spread your legs to let him see how wet you are because of him.
that's when you break Hyunjin's composure. without even bothering to remove this top, he suddenly grabs your legs as soon as he kneels on the bed. he looks down to check if you need any prepping, prodding his fingers at your soaking core.
“don’t need, just want you in me” you mewl, squirming at Hyunjin's touch.
“mhmm..only reason why you came here..”
even with the small pout returning to his handsome face, he doesn’t sound upset or anything, or at least you think he doesn't. he's gotten better at hiding his emotions from you these days but then it could be just a simple remark, which is true in the first place.
a moan slips from your lips when Hyunjin inserts one then two fingers to stretch you out a bit.
“n-no, that's not true ahh..” he tsks at your denial, deeming you ready for him so he lines himself up and pushes in you slowly while staring deeply at you again.
you're used to Hyunjin doing this as he's always been the type to look at you this way even if you're not fucking. but there's something in him today that you can't figure out so you feel slightly different receiving his stares.
deep grunts emit from Hyunjin, groaning at how tight you are around him. he couldn’t help but close his eyes in the process, leaning in for another kiss which you reciprocated with vigour. and once he feels you’ve adjusted, he leans back and gathers your legs together before pushing them against your chest.
his cock reaches you deeper this way, allowing you to feel every ridge of it rubbing against your sensitive walls. he’s way rougher in handling you, gripping your thighs tightly, those rings digging against your skin.
his thrusts are quite slow but he makes up for it by grinding and hitting your g-spot perfectly which sends your whole body into a frenzy. he's back to staring at you while he repeatedly hits them and you end up moaning so loud, earning a small smirk from him.
“fuck jinnie…”
you covered your mouth real quick, remembering Hyunjin's other friends staying in their rooms. he on the other hand, never bothered constraining his loud moans which surprised you. he doesn’t give a fuck, biting his lower lip and so engrossed in fucking you.
watching Hyunjin getting lost in pleasure with your pussy makes you giddy, clenching around his cock erratically and it's making him crazy.
"d-deep..hah"
you're getting overwhelmed with so much pleasure from everywhere but Hyunjin knows your body like you know his, parting your legs so he'd get closer to your face. he planted one hand beside your head for balance before leaning to kiss you again. his very soft lips, now swollen due to him keeping on biting them.
but then you release Hyunjin's lips after a while and he's sensing why.
"hyune..faster" you whine, sounding as needy as him.
“nooo, wanna stay longer inside you” he rasps by your ear, his breath hitting the shell which tickles you. all this is so new, him prolonging fucking you for whatever reason even knowing your lack of patience.
“don’t wanna leave this gdamn pussy till i fill it up” he whispers in between his grunts with the occasional whine which you reward him by pulling his hair. “many times..fuck, you’d like that right?”
all Hyunjin got from you were whiny "yeahs" and calls of his name. he's not faring well either, torn between wanting to just stay inside you or chase his peak and maybe fuck you again if you'll let him. but he can't leave you unsatisfied so he chooses the latter, making sure you finish first before him.
the two of you were so engrossed with each other that neither of you heard Changbin's steps before he barged in the door. his scream disrupts you both and Hyunjin immediately covers your body with his even when Changbin instantly turns his back while covering his eyes.
he quietly curses but you're just smiling, finding this hilarious because locking the doors slipped your and Hyunjin's minds earlier. it's not Changbin's fault that Hyunjin's bed is directly positioned in front of the doors.
"shit, my bad" he comments as he retreats but not without adding "you're sexy though" to your way before closing the door. it causes the man on top of you to whine in displeasure and you think he's about to cry. not only that he have to witness one of his friends see you naked but Changbin also complimented you although it's true.
you comfort him in return, carding your hands through his sweaty hair.
"hyune.." a small chuckle leaves you when he doesn't budge, replying only with a muffled grumble against your neck. he's hugging you tightly too, nuzzling his hair against your hold.
it's comforting, the way you both are entwined like this but your phone rings from somewhere, prompting you to release him. you tried to get out of Hyunjin's hold while he's whining, his cock slipping out from your used cunt but he eventually relents.
you reach for your skort from the bed, retrieving your phone from its pockets to message Jeno that you can’t make it anymore. well, you're definitely too tired to meet up with him later if Hyunjin fucks you again.
speaking of, the needy boy moves closer behind you, probably seeing who you're texting so of course, his hands are back on you.
“you up for more?” he’s now breathing heavily against your shoulders as he starts grinding his hard cock against your ass. you don't get how he's still so needy, kneading your tits right now while you're still on your phone.
wait, didn’t he say earlier that he’ll let you go after?
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e/n: i meant to post a fic based on his recent song but that would probably be a longer one + warlock!hyune 💀. meanwhile, i already started this last year so might as well hehe
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