#I need you to know I just wanted to respond to this

[mephisto-reporting]

You Don't Have to... For Me

About: You step out of your comfort zone to share special moments with him. He sees right through your act. How will he respond? Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship but there is implied mutual interest. Trigger warnings: Fears, insecurities, mild panic, mild food aversion, sensory discomfort

Author’s Note: Hey! Some of the discomforts and fears in these stories might not apply to you personally — I chose them based on what each LI seems to enjoy and what the reader might quietly endure just to spend time with them. This concept was inspired by a conversation with my dear friend and chaos enabler, Ivy ( @xaviersknight )

If you enjoy my writing and want to support me, you can buy me a Ko-fi! ☕

SYLUS

There’s a boxing ring in his penthouse.

Of course, there is.

It shouldn’t surprise you—nothing about Sylus ever plays by anyone else’s rules. He doesn’t live, he orchestrates. Even the things that should feel raw and violent, like boxing, feel too elegant when he’s involved.  Of course, he had a private ring, glinting under moody downlights like something out of a crime drama. Polished floors. Blood-red ropes. A small stack of gloves in varying sizes, already laid out for you. The floors smell faintly of clean sweat and expensive disinfectant.

You're underdressed for this, somehow. Even though he told you to wear something comfortable, even though you showed up in sleek workout leggings and a cropped tee, even though you tied your hair back the way you always do when you mean business—none of it feels right under his gaze.

“Welcome to my little playground…” Sylus speaks from across the ring.

He’s already inside it, lounging lazily against the ropes like a king waiting to be amused. Black tank top, gloves hanging loose from his fingertips, a thin sheen of sweat already glinting across his collarbone. He looks carved from obsidian and marble, every inch of him dangerous and divine.

You swallow. Smile.

“It’s not so little,” you reply.

“Oh? Planning to flatter me into going easy on you, kitten?”

There it is—kitten. The word slides off his tongue. You offer a half-laugh, stepping forward like it’s all a game. But inside, your stomach twists. Tight. Unrelenting.

You don’t like boxing.

It’s too much. Too close. Too exposed. Every movement is a risk. Every breath, a beat away from being cornered. It’s not just the physicality of it—it’s what it forces out of you. Anger. Instinct. Too close. Too loud. Too... visceral. You liked knowing where your limbs were. You liked boundaries and clear lines and space to breathe.

But Sylus was unpredictable. Impossible to read. A storm of velvet and barbed wire. And once, just once, you’d heard him say: “Boring things don’t interest me.”

He hadn’t said it to you. But it stuck. And it doesn’t take much for the mind to twist things.

Boring people don’t interest him, either.

And the thought had stuck in your ribs ever since — echoing in your bones every time he teased you, called you “kitten” or “sweetie” like it was second nature. You didn’t want to be boring to him. You didn’t want him to lose interest. So you said yes.

Of course you said yes.

He tossed a pair of gloves toward you — you caught them, barely.

“You’ll need help with the wraps,” he said, walking over before you could protest.

He took your hands gently, like you were a glass weapon. Thumb brushing your palm. The silk of his touch was deceptive — soft, delicate — but you could feel the power beneath it. Coiled control. Calculated intimacy. Like he knew exactly what strings he was tugging.

“You nervous?” he murmured without looking up.

“No,” you lied. “Why would I be? This is just practice... right?”

You step into the ring.

He doesn’t rush you. Just watches.

You’ve seen him like this before—when he’s stalking someone through a deal, or when he’s circling the truth in a conversation. It’s not hunger. It’s focus. He’s studying you, already inside your head.

“I thought we’d start with light sparring,” he says. “No pressure. Just a dance.”

You force your lips into a smile, ignoring the cold sweat trickling down your spine. “Just don’t break my nose.”

“I’d never mar you, sweetie...” His eyes crinkle, playful. “Unless you ask me nicely.” He was joking, of course. Sylus never hurt you despite his reputation.

He moves first. Not striking. Just circling.

Testing.

You follow. Clumsy. Too stiff.

“Relax,” he says, not unkindly. “This isn’t a war. Not yet.”

You take a breath.

Try again.

The first time he taps your shoulder with a jab, you flinch. He sees it. Of course he does. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching your reactions more than your form.

“Something wrong, sweetie?”

“No.” You lie so fast it burns your throat.

He jabs again—light, teasing. You respond with a wild swing. Miss entirely. He tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Getting bold, aren’t we?”

Your chest tightens. You can’t read him. You don’t know if he’s impressed or amused or—

Disappointed.

That’s the word that hurts most.

You move too hard next time. Overcorrect. You nearly trip over your own foot as your glove grazes his chest and he catches you—arms snapping around your waist, steadying you like it’s nothing.

Your face is close to his. Too close. His breath is warm against your cheek. He smells like clean sweat and spiced cologne. He doesn’t let go right away.

You look up, startled.

He’s staring at you again. But something’s different.

Less amusement. More... calculation.

And then, softness.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asks. Quiet. Not a whisper, but close.

You blink. “I’m not.”

His brow arches.

You try again. “I just... I’m not good at this.”

“I noticed.”

You flinch.

But his voice is gentle now. Not mocking. Not amused. Just... honest.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t explain the heat rising in your chest. The way your gloves suddenly felt too heavy. The sweat gathering at your lower back. The eyes on you — his eyes — making it impossible to breathe.

It wasn’t the fight. It was the nearness. The intimacy of it. The way his presence filled the ring like smoke, clinging to your skin and thoughts alike.

You stepped back, then again. The ropes pressed against your spine.

His gaze followed you — not taunting. Not cruel. Just watchful.

“You don’t like this....” he said quietly.

You stiffened. “It’s fine.”

“No, sweetie.” He took a step forward. “You’re not fine.”

You looked down, fingers curling into the gloves. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Silence stretched.

“I heard you say once,” you added, voice quieter now, “that boring things don’t interest you. I just… I didn’t want to be that.”

There’s a pause. A shift.

Then, a laugh.

“Is that what this is about?”

You don’t answer.

His hand rises, gloved, brushing lightly beneath your chin until you meet his gaze.

“Oh, sweetie...” he sighs, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever heard from him. “You think I invited you here to impress me?”

You nod. Barely.

He exhales, the sound tinged with remorse.

“I invited you here because I like watching you try,” he says, lips curving into a gentle smile. “You could throw cotton balls at me, and I’d still find it riveting.”

You blink fast.

He leans in, voice barely audible. “If I wanted perfect form, I’d spar with one of my... business associates. If I wanted dull, I’d drink alone. But you... you make things interesting just by showing up.”

You feel the tears prick your lashes before you can stop them.

His hand—still gloved—cups your cheek gently. The rough texture of the leather is at odds with the tenderness in his touch.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, sweetie,” he murmurs. “Just be here. That’s enough.”

You nod. It’s all you can manage.

“Besides,” he adds, voice lighter now, “your form is atrocious. But your pout is lethal.”

You laugh—shaky, but real. He grins, triumphant.

“There she is..." he whispers.

You don’t spar again that night. Instead, you both sit in the ring, backs against the ropes, gloves off, drinks in hand brought up by someone who clearly knows better than to ask questions. Sylus lounges beside you, knee brushing yours, casual in a way that still buzzes under your skin.

He talks, and he listens, and he teases, and he lets you unravel yourself in pieces—not all at once, but enough to make you feel seen. Safe.

And when you leave, hours later, he walks you to the door and leans against the frame, arms crossed, lips curved.

“Next time,” he says, “we’ll do something that scares me.”

You raise a brow. “Does anything scare you?”

“Just one thing,” he replies, eyes holding yours.

You want to ask what.

“But that’s a discussion for another time.” He taps your forehead, leading you to his car. his hand, extended, waited for yours without force, without pressure.

Just... waiting.

And when you placed yours in his, he didn’t let go.

CALEB

You could hear his grin through the message.

Got us two VIP passes to the Amusement Park’s Firelight Festival tonight. :p Rides, food, fireworks… and a parade with glowing dragons, just like the old stories you love. ;)

And then, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it wasn’t making your stomach twist in a dozen knots .

 Come ready to fly,.

You smiled when you read it.

You really did. He remembered that you liked parades and fireworks. You’d told him when you hung out with him once.

And then immediately set your phone down and groaned into your pillow.

Rides. He said rides.

He didn’t know. You never told him. It was embarrassing. Heights just... did something to you. The tilt of the world. The way it all dropped away beneath you like gravity forgot how to love you. That sick feeling in your stomach, the one that clung like static even hours after you were back on solid ground.

You liked fireworks. Parades. Candy stalls and fuzzy prizes you’d never win.

But coasters? Loops? Platforms you could see through?

Nope.

And yet, here you were — standing at the entrance of the park’s glowing gates. breath caught somewhere between your throat and your heart, watching him wave at you from across the crowd.

Caleb was all light. All warmth. That stupidly charming smile that could’ve powered the whole island. He was in his casual clothes – Sleeveless white shirt, baggy jeans and shades and his dark hair was a little tousled like he’d run here.

“Hey!” he beamed, trotting toward you. “Look at you. You showed up. Thought I’d have to fly over and drag you in myself.”

You laughed — or tried to. “Would’ve been easier if you had.”

“Oh? You saying you wanted me to sweep you off your feet?” He winked, already walking backward toward the gates, tugging you by the wrist. “Next time just say the word and I will come pick you up from your doorstep.”

He had the same boyish grin as always. Same lopsided energy. But beneath the laughter, there was something tight about him. Focused. Like he was trying to be carefree — like he was carrying something heavier than he let on.

You squeezed his hand. He looked at you, surprised. Then softened.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you lied. “You?”

“Always,” he said, but didn’t let go. “And even more so now that you are here.”

The park was a living constellation. Lights danced in every direction — strung along towers, wrapped around trees, woven into the very air like stardust. People bustled by with caramel popcorn and glowing necklaces. Children squealed. Music floated from every corner.

And high above it all, looming like metal beasts with neon eyes, were the rides.

You avoided looking at them.

Caleb was thrilled. He practically vibrated next to you, pointing out different ones, telling stories, dropping trivia. “That one,” he said, eyes sparkling as he pointed at a monstrous looped coaster. “It was inspired by the early zero-G training modules for astronauts. Goes up to 3Gs on the final drop. Wanna try it?”

You smiled too fast. Too wide. “Sure.”

With VIP passes, the wait time was almost non-existent.

You stared up at the metal track. It twisted into the clouds, lights flashing like a heartbeat. Every scream that echoed down from the peak made your stomach twist tighter. You tried to breathe.

Caleb was rambling about pilot protocols and how G-force affected vision, and you were nodding, smiling, trying to look normal.

But the closer you got, the worse it felt.

Your hands shook when you buckled in.

Caleb noticed. “You cold?”

You shook your head too fast. “I’m fine.”

The harness clicked into place. The floor dropped out from beneath your feet.

And then — the ascent.

The world shrank beneath you. Each click of the coaster’s gears echoed like a countdown.

You felt him look at you.

“…Hey?”

You didn’t respond.

You couldn’t.

Your hands were white-knuckled fists. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Breathing shallow. Chest tight.

“…Hey.”

His voice was gentler now.

“Hey. Look at me.”

You did.

He was watching you. Really watching you — not with teasing, not with that easy charm. With concern. With care.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked softly, the lightest tremble in his voice.

“I didn’t want to ruin this evening…” you whispered, ashamed.

The ride lurched — nearly at the peak now. A second more and it would drop.

The wind screamed as the peak crested.

He reached over — twisted in his seat, even with the restraints — and grabbed your hand with his left. “Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”

It was warm. Heavy.

But steady.

“Hold on to me,” he said, voice low. “Don’t look down. Don’t think about anything else. Just me.”

And then — the fall.

You screamed.

Not just out of fear but because it was everything all at once. The terror. The relief. The way Caleb held your hand the entire time, grounding you when the sky fell away.

When the ride slowed, your breathing did too.

You didn’t let go.

He didn’t ask you to.

Later, you sat on the grass, away from the lights, a bag of half-eaten cotton candy between you. The fireworks were a long way from happening and there was time to kill.

Caleb leaned back on one hand, the other tucked around your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“For what?”

“We’ve been here for a while now because I did something stupid. I ruined the evening for you... You were so excited.”

“I didn’t bring you up here to make you uncomfortable.” he said finally. Soft. Almost guilty.

You winced. “You didn’t. I just…”

“You hate heights.”

He gave a sheepish little smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You think I dragged you out here for the rollercoasters?”

You glanced at him.

“I did it for the fireworks. For the stupid nebula cotton candy. For the look on your face when the parade started. For you. Not the rides.”

You looked down. “I just didn’t want to seem—”

“I don’t need you to be fearless,” he said. “I just need you to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You swallowed hard.

He tugged you in closer. “I’m serious. If you’re scared, if you’re upset, if you hate rollercoasters — I want to know. I want to know you. Not some version of you that’s trying to be what you think I want.”

You looked up at him, eyes stinging a little.

“I do like the parade though,” you whispered.

He smiled , soft and golden, all heart. “Good. Because I booked the best spot for it.”

You tilted your head. “How?”

“I’m a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet,” he said with a wink. “Perks of the uniform.”

You laughed. The sound felt free now.

He watched you with a look you couldn’t name. Something warm. Something more.

Then he said, softly, “Thanks for trusting me.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for holding my hand.”

He skipped the thrill rides without hesitation, instead loading your arms with candy and glowsticks and ridiculous souvenirs. You sat together on a private bench as the parade passed by, a blur of shimmering lights and music. When the fireworks finally exploded overhead in bursts of gold and violet, he leaned just a bit closer.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent beneath the sky’s celebration. “Even if the rides were a bust.”

“I’d go anywhere with you, Caleb,” you said.

And this time, it wasn’t a lie.

ZAYNE

You stand in front of the mirror, tilting your head as you assess your outfit for the third time. Casual. Put-together—but not trying too hard. The denim jacket is a little snug across your shoulders, the black tee just low-cut enough to count as flirty if Zayne noticed such things. He always seems so calm, so unfazed. And yet, every time he looks at you, your stomach flips like a coin midair.

You check your phone. Zayne.

I’ll pick you up in ten. Wear something comfortable.

Comfortable? That’s rich, considering what he’s roped you into.

Pool.

You had smiled like it was nothing when he’d brought it up over coffee earlier this week, his fingers casually tapping the rim of his mug, eyes steady on yours. “There’s this place I used to go to when I first joined Akso. It’s quiet. Good for unwinding. Would you want to join me? I can teach if you’d like.”

And you, ever the glutton for punishment, had said yes.

You’ve never played pool in your life. Something about the geometry, the angles, the calculated strength of the strike… none of it sounded appealing to you. Your hand-eye coordination is barely enough for catching projectiles thrown at you. But it’s Zayne. Calm, composed, frustratingly attractive Zayne. And he invited you. That has to mean something.

The pool hall is tucked between a laundromat and a late-night ramen bar. A few patrons linger at other tables, but Zayne seems to know the owner, and within minutes, he’s leading you to a far table in the corner, away from the noise.

He’s already in his element, chalking his cue. “We’ll start with the basics,” he says, offering you a stick. “Grip. Posture. Precision. Pool’s all about intention.”

You take the cue stick and try to mirror him. You can already feel the weight of the evening pressing at the back of your neck like an invisible hand.

The first round is a disaster.

Your fingers curled around the smooth wood, already clammy. You lined up awkwardly, bent forward, and—

Crack.

The cue ball wobbled. It barely tapped the triangle of colored balls, scattering them half-heartedly.

"Solid attempt," Zayne said, not unkindly, but with a teasing tilt to his voice. “You aimed with your heart, not your eyes.”

You told yourself to relax. He didn’t expect you to be great. He wasn’t like that.

Was he?

Zayne moved with confidence, sinking two shots in a row. His posture was perfect, movements fluid. When he lined up his next shot, he looked back at you briefly, one brow raised as if to say, You watching? You nodded, smiled. Pretended to be fascinated by the game instead of calculating how many more turns you’d have to humiliate yourself.

Your second shot went worse than the first. Your hand slipped on the bridge, the ball skidded, and you felt your cheeks heat. Zayne came up behind you then, gently placing his hand on your arm to guide your posture.

“Here,” he murmured, breath warm near your ear. “Relax your grip.”

Your fingers froze.

He was so close. His hand so steady. Yours... not.

You nodded. Said nothing. Tried again. Failed again.

The next few rounds were even worse. You miss the cue ball entirely once. Twice. Then you scratch it. You try to laugh, but it comes out thin. Zayne doesn’t scold you, he’s not cruel, but he’s precise, his words clipped with surgical clarity.

“Your wrist’s too loose.” “You’re leaning too far. Keep your core stable.” “Don’t look at the cue, look through the shot.”

You nod. Try again. Fail. Again.

With each miss, your shoulders tighten. Your knuckles go white around the stick. You feel the blood drain from your face as a couple nearby chuckles softly. You know it’s not about you, but your skin crawls with embarrassment anyway. You didn’t like people watching you mess up.

Zayne watches, silent for a few beats. Then he speaks, voice lower this time. “You’re holding your breath.”

You hadn’t realized you were.

He places his cue stick down gently and walks toward you, his steps soundless on the hardwood floor. He stops just within reach, but doesn’t touch you.

“You’re not enjoying this.” he says softly.

You froze mid-bend.

“I—” you began, but he raised a hand.

“Don’t lie.”

You straightened slowly, cue stick still in hand. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you admitted, voice barely above the background hum of the jukebox. “You’re so good at this. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

The silence between you was soft, not sharp.

“I invited you here because I like spending time with you,” he said. “Not because I needed a pool partner.”

You blinked at him, uncertain.

He continued, voice lower now. “I can be... singularly focused. Too much, sometimes. But I don’t want you pretending to be okay with something just because I picked it.”

Your grip on the cue loosened. “I didn’t want to ruin the evening.”

He tilted his head. “It would ruin it more if you spent it uncomfortable.”

You want to deny it. Laugh it off. But your throat is tight, and your heart feels like it’s pressed against a wall.

“I just—” You force a shrug. “I wanted to spend time with you. That’s all.”

Zayne studies your face. “So you dragged yourself into something you hate just to do that?”

“I don’t hate it,” you mutter. “I just... don’t belong here. Pool isn’t exactly my thing.”

His expression shifts, not amusement, not disappointment. Just something softer. Quieter. The kind of look someone gives when they see through you instead of at you.

“I noticed,” he murmurs. “Your shoulders were locked. You didn’t blink once in thirty seconds.”

You try to smile. “So much for subtlety.”

Zayne chuckles. It’s a quiet sound, rare, but warm. “I’m a doctor,” he says. “Reading body language is half the job.”

There’s a pause. Then he leans forward—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you can smell the faint trace of cologne on his shirt. He lowers his voice. “Next time you want to spend time with me... just say it. You don’t have to contort yourself into something you're not. It wouldn’t feel right if you were uncomfortable the whole time.”

You blink, stunned into silence.

“I don’t want your time if it costs you your ease,” he adds. “That’s not the kind of presence I want to be in your life.”

Your chest aches, not with shame, but something closer to relief. The kind that comes when someone lifts the weight off your shoulders before you even realize how heavy it’s been.

He straightens up and gently takes the cue stick from your hands.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s ditch this and go to that ramen place next door. You can make fun of my spice tolerance there. Does that sound good to you?”

You grin, heart hammering, the tension finally cracking like ice. “Only if you let me steal your gyoza.”

“Negotiable,” he says, brushing past you with the ghost of a smile. “Come. The night is far from over. You don’t have to change who you are around me,” he said, tone calm but sincere. “I’d rather have the truth.”

Your heart thudded, unsteady but warm.

You nodded. “Next time... you’ll be the one out of your element.”

He smirked. “I look forward to it.”

And he meant it.

XAVIER

The elevator hums quietly as you check your reflection for the fifth time.

Comfortable. Cute. Relaxed. That was the goal.

You’d chosen your favorite knit sweater — the one just baggy enough to hang off one shoulder — and paired it with soft leggings, fuzzy socks, and a warm-toned scrunchie pulling your hair back in a loose twist. A look that said, “I didn’t try that hard,” while clearly being planned down to the scent of the vanilla lip balm on your mouth.

Because this wasn’t just dinner.

It was dinner at Xavier’s apartment.

You cradle the two grocery bags in your arms a little tighter, filled with neatly packed slices of marbled beef, a few delicate cuts of lamb, some fresh shitake, enoki, and bok choy, plus the greens. There’s also a small six-pack of fruit-flavored soda you thought he might like — and two mochi ice cream desserts in your bag's chill pouch.

You’d been excited all day.

Xavier’s apartment was what you expected: neat, quiet, lightly decorated in soft colors and odd trinkets he didn’t think twice about but made your eyes linger.

In the center of the living space, a low table had been arranged with two cushions on either side and a full hot pot setup. The induction stove was small but new, clean and white, already buzzing  gently beneath a divided metal pot. Steam curled lazily into the air.

He padded barefoot across the room, sleeves rolled, hair loose and a little ruffled from sleep, and took the bags from your arms wordlessly. When you tried to insist you could help, he simply said, “Sit. You’re the guest.”

And so you sat.

And then he poured the broth packets in. The setup was clean and minimalist, just like him — a pale wood table, small ceramic sauce dishes, dipping bowl sets, and a yin-yang shaped hot pot cooker with two separate sides of broth.

Except this time… both sides were red.

Not a gentle tomato-based red.

Not one side miso, not mushroom.

The liquid turned dark crimson almost instantly.

You blinked.

“Hot Mala. It’s… strong,” he said. He stirred with a lazy rhythm, the aroma already clawing at the back of your throat.

You swallowed hard. Bright crimson oil glistened on the surface, flecked with floating peppercorns and crushed chili. You felt your soul begin to sweat.

“...Both sides?” you asked, feigning a casual glance.

“Spicy’s better,” Xavier said, crouching at the table. “I only bought the twin-pot style because the seller said it was popular.”

Your tongue already tingled at the idea of the red broth. You weren’t just bad with spice — you were barely functioning around a mildly spicy samosa. Anything more, and your eyes would water and your face would burn like a reactor core meltdown.

But you looked at him — quiet, warm, fond in that unreadable way of his as he placed dipping bowls beside the stove.

And you smiled.  You did what you always did with people who mattered more to you than your own comfort.

Because the thought that you might ruin this calm, carefully arranged evening over something like spice tolerance made your chest tighten.

“It looks perfect,” you said.

He sat across from you, cross-legged and relaxed in dark joggers and a white hoodie, a bold choice for hot pot, especially with the red broth.

He leaned over the table with all the grace of a sleepy cat, selecting slices of meat and guiding them into the red broth with long chopsticks.

“You brought good cuts,” he noted, nodding. “I trust your judgment.”

And then, a pause — his eyes narrowed a little at the pile of greens beside him.

“Except… this.”

You laughed softly. “It’s not that bad.”

He gave the vegetables a look that could only be described as betrayal. “It smells like sadness.”

You tried not to laugh. But your heart twisted. Not because of his words.

Because while he bantered the smell of chili oil and peppercorn was already beginning to sting your throat. You reached for your dipping bowl, adding soy sauce, onions, minced garling, lime and sesame paste with trembling fingers, trying to busy yourself.

And when he dropped your favorite mushroom into the red broth, you didn’t protest.

You only smiled.

The first bite singed.

You chewed slowly, nodding like it was fine, like your tongue wasn’t slowly blistering from the inside out. You chased it with soda. Swallowed a second piece — lamb this time — and made a soft sound that you hoped passed for enjoyment but probably sounded more like someone dying of quiet regret.

You blinked the tears back.

He watched you.

You looked down at your bowl.

“Too spicy,” he said, softly.

Your fingers tightened on the chopsticks. “No. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

You flinched, barely. He was still neutral in tone — not accusatory. Just… certain. Like a man who already knew the sky was blue and didn’t need convincing.

“I didn’t want to ruin it,” you said quietly. “You were excited.”

“I’m always excited to see you,” he said, without a hint of irony. “But I’m not excited to watch you suffer.”

That stilled you.

“I thought you didn’t notice.”

“I notice everything about you.” His chopsticks stilled above the pot. “I just don’t always know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

You laughed despite yourself, hand gripping your drink as you coughed lightly. “Okay. I admit it. I’m bad with spice. But I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Why?”

You hesitated. “Because I… uh… You invited me. I didn’t want to be difficult.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You’d rather be in pain than tell me the truth?”

You winced. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It is,” he said gently. Then added, “But I’ve done worse.”

Then he shifted.

With a flick of his wrist, he transferred the vegetables — yes, even the sad greens — and a generous portion of meat into a plate. He grabbed the serving ladle and began to scoop the broth from one section of the pot into a bowls.

“I have a mild instant soup base in the kitchen, it's delicious too.” he said, standing up. “Give me five minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You blinked again, but this time not from spice.

“Why?”

“Because you’re here,” he said simply, walking to the kitchen. “And I like that you’re here.”

Your throat tightened.

The new broth was clear, soft, comforting. The moment he brought it out, you wanted to cry.

Not just from the relief of no longer melting from the inside out.

But because someone had noticed.

Listened.

And changed something just for you.

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly as you ate. “Really.”

“I know.”

And then, as if to demonstrate further solidarity, he reached into the spicy broth, pulled out a bok choy… and stared at it like it was his mortal enemy. Then, with slow determination, he bit into it.

His whole face remained unchanged.

But you saw the twitch.

“…Was it worth it?” you asked.

“No,” he said, deadpan. “But now we’re even.”

Later, when you left, he walked you to the door barefoot, holding the empty mochi container like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Next time,” he said, after a pause, “you pick the broth.”

“Next time?”

He blinked. “If you want.”

You looked up at him.

He stood in the doorway — hoodie sleeves half-pushed, hair still tousled, the faint scent of chili oil clinging to him like a memory. His expression was unreadable again. But the warmth behind it? That wasn’t hard to see at all.

“I’d like that,” you said.

And you were already planning it.

RAFAYEL

You shouldn’t have said yes.

That thought rings in your head as the last rays of evening sunlight melt into amber, stretching across the mirror-glass surface of the lake. Everything is quiet — too quiet — save for the light chirp of insects and the steady ripple of water as Rafayel swims deeper, his silhouette cutting sleek lines through the reflection of the sky.

He’s graceful.

Unfairly so.

Water clings to his skin like it belongs there, catching on his lashes, beading along his shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle down his back and arms as he moves. And you, standing at the shallow edge in your swimsuit, arms folded like a makeshift barrier, feel like a tangled bundle of nerves held together by one wrong decision.

You could swim. Technically. You just… didn’t like it.

Not the lack of footing. Not the invisible things beneath the surface. Not the way your limbs felt disconnected and sluggish, or how you could never quite get the rhythm of your strokes right without swallowing water or tipping awkwardly sideways like an overfilled tote bag.

It was clumsy. You were clumsy. You’d passed the mandatory swimming exam at school, survived a few hotel pools on holidays ut lakes? Open water? With things brushing against your legs, invisible weeds tangling near your feet, the ground disappearing beneath you with nothing to hold?

It made your skin crawl.

But the way Rafayel’s eyes lit up when he talked about it… You didn’t want to ruin that.

So you came.

You still remember yesterday evening when Rafayel had flashed that impish grin and tossed you with “Wear something cute. I’m kidnapping you for a swimming adventure. No complaints,” — you’d said yes.

Because he was Raf.

And part of you always said yes to him. Hoping, stupidly, that it  might be something worth remembering.

Maybe he’d laugh. Maybe he’d tease. Maybe he’d say something flippant and walk away…

Or maybe — just maybe — he’d notice you like you notice him.

“You’re not gonna melt, cutie,” he calls from a few meters out, resting easily on the surface of the water. He floats with infuriating elegance, his arms outstretched and his purple hair haloed around his head. “Or are you actually made of sugar?”

You snort softly, hugging yourself tighter. “I just… don’t want to ruin the peace. It’s nice just watching.”

“You mean it’s nice watching me.” He grins. “Go ahead. Get your fill. I don’t blame you…”

Your lips twitch despite yourself.

And that was Rafayel in a sentence — smug, sharp-tongued, beautiful enough to get away with it. But underneath the teasing, you knew his invitation wasn’t just about swimming.

He wanted to share something.

And you wanted to be part of that world , his world , even if it made your stomach twist.

So you step in.

Slowly. The water’s cool against your skin, not cold, but shocking in contrast to the warm evening air. You move step by careful step, feeling the soft sand shift beneath your toes, the occasional ripple brushing your calf like phantom fingers.

It’s fine.

You can do this.

You make it chest-deep before you hear his voice again.

“Come closer.”

He’s farther now, maybe eight or nine meters out, treading water with that casual, effortless grace.

You hesitate.

He notices.

There’s a pause — one of those strange suspended silences that exist only between people who know each other too well and not well enough at the same time.

Then you smile. Not because you feel okay, but because you want him to feel okay.

And you swim.

Clumsily. Arms too wide, breath too shallow. You keep your chin above water, trying not to panic, trying not to think about the darkness beneath your feet or the silt that clouds around your knees when you kick.

But then — something brushes you.

A slip of lake weed? A fish? A strand of hair?

It doesn’t matter.

Terror shoots up your spine like ice.

You gasp sharply, flail, and instinct kicks in — wild, desperate kicks, arms slapping water, trying to go anywhere but where you are. You can’t feel the bottom anymore. You can’t find a rhythm. Panic closes your throat like a fist—

And then he’s there.

Strong hands caught you.

You didn’t even realize he’d come until his arms wrapped around your waist, one hand steady at your back, the other curling under your thigh to anchor you as you trembled.

“Hey. Hey,” Rafayel’s voice was lower now. All the teasing had dropped out. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

You tried to speak, but your throat burned. Your hands clutched at his shoulders instead, nails digging in. He didn’t flinch.

His face is close. Closer than it’s ever been. Water drips from his lashes, and for once, there’s no smirk, no teasing spark. Just something… protective. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Breathe. You’re fine.”

And somehow, you do.

He holds you for a moment longer. You feel the strength in him, the calm. The quiet assurance that, at least in this moment, nothing would dare happen to you.

And then you’re moving.

Back toward the shore.

He doesn’t drag. He glides, guiding you like something precious — like you’re worth holding onto.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, “You should’ve told me you didn’t want to swim.”

“I didn’t… I thought I could handle it,” you croaked out, cheeks burning with shame. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Idiot, guppy” he muttered, but there was no venom in it. “You think I brought you here to watch you suffer?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The humiliation was sharp and bitter in your chest, mixing with the leftover panic.

He walked the last few steps, carrying you until the water kissed only your calves. When he set you down, your legs wobbled.

“You could’ve drowned,” he said quietly. “And then what would I do? Swim around this stupid lake yelling at your ghost?” He knew he wouldn’t have let that happen. So did you. But he was making a fair point.

That startled a laugh out of you, hoarse and awkward, but it made him smile.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to say no to you.”

He looked at you, for a long moment. Eyes clearer than usual. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he said. “If you want to spend time with me, just say so. You don’t have to drown for it, cutie.”

You blinked. Then frowned. “So what, you’re not gonna make fun of me?”

“Oh no,” he smirked, the old glint back in his eye. “I am absolutely making fun of you. But—” He reached for your towel, flicking it playfully over your head, “…only after I make sure you're not cold, scared, or crying.”

He plopped down beside you on the ground, towel around his shoulders, hair dripping. The lake shimmered behind him, but he didn’t spare it another glance.

He looked only at you. “You’re an idiot,” he says, voice bright with performative scorn. “A pretty, sweet, stubborn idiot.”

You blink.

He reaches out and tugs a dries from your wet hair with surprisingly gentle fingers using the towel.  Then, with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, he says, “Next time, you sit on the shore, look pretty, and cheer for me. Deal?”

You open your mouth to protest.

“And,” he adds, lifting a finger, “You’ll bring snacks. Preferably something cold. I’ll get out, pretend to suffer from exertion, and you’ll feed me with loving devotion while telling me how brave I am.”

You laugh. This time, genuinely.

“…Deal.”

He bumped your shoulder with his, light and easy. “That’s my good little guppy.”

And somehow, as the light faded and the stars blinked into view above the treetops — you didn’t feel so out of your depth anymore.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @fallthelong @mentaltrouble2201 @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom @lucifers-silhouette @sunsethw4 @kthehoeforfictionalmen @mentaltrouble2201 @seris-the-amious @cheezeandkrackers @lovesick-sylus @solifloris @astheskycries @kingsaltytree27 @mionie @kryuru @hoebii @meiniblr-blog @2013-1127 @solli373 @peachyaone @yvlaine @fromthechaoticmind @pathogenic @nevabetrice @roschea-arts

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please interact with this post

If you enjoy my writing and want to support me, you can buy me a Ko-fi! ☕

[dykebehaviour]

more loser!ellie please 🙏🙏

taking loser!gf!ellie with you for lingerie shopping

cw: fluff, suggestive, loser lesbian!ellie, fem!reader.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it starts with one sentence. one sentence and a perfectly timed glance over your shoulder while you’re straddling her on the couch.

“i need new lingerie.”

ellie doesn’t respond at first. she just sort of… short-circuits.

you’re wearing her hoodie - the green one with the stretched sleeves and little bleach spots on the cuff - and nothing underneath it. your thighs are bare against the scratchy fabric of her secondhand couch. your lip’s caught between your teeth. and you say it so casually, like you’re telling her you need shampoo. like you’re not already half in her lap, driving her fucking insane.

she’s holding a half-lit joint and stares at you like you’ve just told her the world’s ending.

“i’m sorry,” she says finally. “you what?”

“i need lingerie,” you say again, slowly this time, like she’s old or confused. you stretch, arms up over your head, hoodie riding even higher on your thighs. you blink down at her. “i’m low on pretty stuff.”

she blinks. once. twice. her fingers flex against your hips like she’s trying to ground herself. “isn’t all your stuff already… pretty?”

you grin. “that’s sweet. but no. i want the really pretty kind. the ridiculous kind. bows and lace and way too many straps.”

ellie’s jaw flexes. “oh.”

you let the silence stretch.

then: “you wanna come with me?”

ellie’s eyes shoot up. her whole body goes rigid, like you just asked her to go to war.

“to… to the lingerie store?”

you nod, very nonchalant. “yeah. i need a second opinion.”

“right. because i’m so… fashion-forward.”

“you are when it comes to me.”

ellie says nothing. her fingers twitch where they rest on your thighs. she’s pretending to look cool, but her mouth is slightly open and she hasn’t blinked in way too long.

you raise an eyebrow. “that a yes?”

she clears her throat. “uh. yeah. sure. i mean, yeah. i can do that. just, like… be normal. in the lingerie store. like a normal person.”

you lean in, grin widening. “you’ve never been normal, ellie.”

“yeah,” she breathes. “and it’s about to get so much worse.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the next day, she dresses like she’s attending your funeral.

dark jeans. beat-up converse. that ratty smashing pumpkins tee she only wears when she’s feeling brave, and a zip-up hoodie over the top. she doesn’t style her hair, just pulls it into a low bun and lets the baby curls frizz around her ears. you kiss her temple as she slouches into the passenger seat of your car, and she groans into her hands like you’ve just kissed her in front of a firing squad.

you, on the other hand, look unfairly hot.

hair pretty. lip gloss on. you even sprayed perfume - the one that makes her dizzy and stupid. you keep twirling your hair around your finger at red lights. keep crossing and uncrossing your legs like you don’t know exactly what it’s doing to her.

“please be gentle with me,” ellie mumbles as you pull into the parking garage.

“no promises.”

she groans again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the store is a lot.

it’s pink. everything is soft, glowing, wrapped in silk and tulle. the music is sultry - some slow, breathy remix of something you danced to at a party last summer. the mannequins are tall, leggy, headless, and intimidating. there’s a neon sign above the back wall in soft cursive that says treat yourself, baby.

ellie stares up at it like she’s witnessing a religious experience.

she mutters under her breath, “this place is terrifying.”

you loop your arm through hers and tug her deeper into the racks of lace and mesh.

“i thought you liked terrifying things,” you say.

“i do. usually. but this is… this is uncharted territory.”

you pause in front of a rack of blush-colored balconette bras and grin. “you mean you’ve never been in here before?”

ellie frowns. “i’m gay, not suicidal.”

you laugh, loud and bright, and the sound makes her smile, even if her ears are beet red.

she keeps her hands shoved in the front pocket of her hoodie. doesn’t touch anything. doesn’t even look too long at any single item, in case it kills her.

you, on the other hand, are in your element.

you move through the store like a dream, trailing your fingers over lace, pausing to hold up sheer teddies and corsets, tossing matching panties over your arm like it’s a fashion show and you’re the star. you pick up a strappy red bra and turn toward her, holding it against your chest.

“this one?” you ask.

ellie swallows. loudly. “jesus christ.”

you smirk. “so… yes?”

“yeah. definitely. that’s gonna haunt me in the best way.”

you pick up a few more pieces - pale blue, black silk, something sheer and embroidered with little moons and stars - and disappear into the dressing room with a wink.

ellie stands awkwardly outside, pretending to browse a rack of crotchless boyshorts. she checks her phone. bounces on the balls of her feet. almost asks the assistant if they have snacks, then realises that’s a completely insane thing to do in a lingerie store and shuts up.

then, your voice calls out from behind the curtain:

“babe?”

her heart stutters. “yeah?”

“can you come help me zip this?”

she drops her phone. literally drops it.

fumbles to pick it up. wipes her palms on her jeans. tries to act like her pulse isn’t pounding in her ears as she stumbles toward the back room like she’s walking toward her execution.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the curtain slides shut behind her.

and ellie’s knees immediately go weak.

you’re standing in front of a full-length mirror in the softest, sexiest thing she’s ever seen. lavender lace. bare back. garter belt. stockings hugging your thighs. your skin glowing under the warm lights, the soft sheen of the fabric clinging to every curve like it was custom made for you.

you glance at her over your shoulder, all doe-eyed and dangerous. “can you zip it?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she just stares.

she looks like she’s in pain. mouth open. eyes wide. her gaze drags from your heels to your thighs to your hips to your back to your shoulders to your lips. she shifts on her feet like she’s trying to adjust herself without making it obvious, but you notice. of course you do.

you always do.

you smile slowly. “you okay, el?”

she clears her throat and steps forward. her hands are shaking as she reaches for the zipper. she’s so careful. touches you like you’re breakable. her fingers brush your spine and she jolts like she touched a live wire.

“i’m fine,” she lies, softly. “so fine. doing amazing. really holding it together.”

you turn to face her, and her mouth parts helplessly.

“do you like it?” you murmur.

“‘like’ is the understatement of the century,” she says. “i’m actually blacking out a little. Is that normal?”

you step closer. she doesn’t move away. she never does.

“i’ve got a few more to try,” you say. “want to help me with the rest?”

she exhales shakily. “this is a trap.”

you hum. “maybe.”

“you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“i hope so.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you model four more outfits.

with each one, ellie unravels a little more.

the second is all black mesh with star embroidery. the third is a deep red strappy set that leaves very, very little to the imagination. the fourth has tiny silk bows and pearl accents. the fifth, the final one, is so sheer you have to cover your nipples when you step out just to give her a chance.

she stares. frozen. absolutely wrecked.

you cross the room, slide your arms around her neck, and lean in until your lips brush her ear.

“i’m getting this one.”

she makes a noise, something breathless and desperate, and rests her forehead on your shoulder.

“you’re evil,” she whispers. “this is psychological warfare.”

you kiss her jaw. “you love it.”

“i do,” she groans. “that’s the worst part.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

at checkout, ellie carries the bags like they’re sacred objects.

she hasn’t made eye contact with anyone in ten minutes. her ears are bright red. her face is still flushed. you hand the cashier your card and glance back at her, amused.

“you’re very quiet.”

“i’m recovering,” she mutters.

“from what?”

she glares at you, eyes glassy. “you flashed your ass at me in four different colours and then smiled like it was nothing. i saw your nipples through lace. that wasn’t just ‘nothing.’ that was a religious experience.”

you giggle and slide your arm through hers as you leave the store.

she’s still dazed when you reach the car.

you lean against the passenger door and grin. “wanna come back to mine?”

she nods immediately. “yes. oh my god. please.”

“for what?”

“closure. a cold shower. therapy. a full spiritual reset.”

you lean in, kiss her cheek, lips sticky with gloss. “i’ll wear the red one.”

she nearly walks into a parked car.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @natsheretic , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie <3

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki part ii

warnings: smut, power play, cursing, etc.

read part one

you assumed that after having sex with ni-ki, your biggest opp, it would be awkward and uncomfortable…

but never this empty.

you arrive at your office monday morning to find your inbox startlingly free of his scathing one-liners. there's no "nice dress. shame about the brain." no "can you actually type without making typos?"

his favorite mockery is gone, somehow leaving you strangely bereft.

you tapped your pen against the wooden surface of your desk, scanning for any hint of his sabotages. the folder you thought you'd need for the managerial position, his file on your "possible fraudulent activities" are also nowhere to be found.

because according to him, you fucked him so good that he destroyed every single thing he had that could ruin you.

relief flares that he stopped, of course. but unlike him, you still do your best to make his life miserable, leaving yourself doused in guilt — feeling like an asshole.

an entire weekend passed. you swore you weren't dying for his banter, and yet whenever your phone buzzes, you leap out of your skin.

nishimura riki: stop messing with my report. are you fucking insane?

minutes passed.

nishimura riki: you must be missing me.

your lips twitched into a smirk. hell if you know how to respond.

i didn't do it, dumbass.

really? that's the reply? he'd know you were lying (or worse, honest). the cursor kept blinking in your reply box, taunting you. you typed, erase, typed again, erase — you racked your brain, thinking of a good comeback.

you: you're so stupid. also, my life has been so peaceful without you. please stay right where you are.

nishimura riki: i can come by your house and make your life hell again. if you want.

of course you want it. you'd kill him… or you'd kill for him to come over right now but shit, even the line between those urges were already starting to blur.

you spent your lunchtime writing a status report. your fingers snapping across the keys but your mind drifts to that shameless first night with him.

the night where you wrestled with him for that fraud file of yours. the heat of his breath when you kissed him, when it finally landed on your skin…

you remember all of it. every time you lean over to pull a document from the printer, you imagine the wide arc of ni-ki's arms behind you, the precise angle of his jaw, his thick lips devouring you while telling you how much he hated you for existing…

it's all fucking there.

and as if reading your thoughts, your phone lit up again.

nishimura riki: i want to see what i'm missing.

you: fuck you. you literally work five feet from me.

nishimura riki: and new skirt? goddamn

your stomach clenched. so he… noticed? he noticed your above the knee with the slit at the side that shows just enough thigh to be questionable but still professional according to the office dress code new skirt?

you: your point?

nishimura riki: you look good and i want to see it up close.

a shiver runs down your spine. ni-ki's words became so direct, so suggestive, you can't help but to swallow hard and bite your lip. you sighed, immediately closing the report window before anyone could see you blush.

you check your company messenger during break. you noticed nishimura riki's presence: his avatar pops into view with the status "ready to crush it."

how fucking pretentious.

you just hoped ni-ki would do something back so you could stop feeling guilty whenever you sabotage him, then it would all go back to hell. the hell you not-so-secretly love. the hell he seemed to have loved before — and now forgotten.

@you @ni-ki i expect great results from the two of you. focus on the work, not drama.

you sat on your couch, sipping a cup of lukewarm green tea when your phone buzzes.

nishimura riki: we're stuck together for the next couple days.

you smirked when you realized how he can't stop texting you. you plop your head back against the cushion, totally interested.

you: yeah. happy?

nishimura riki: ecstatic.

ni-ki signs off with a kiss emoji, making you scowl in disgust and throw your phone onto the cushion. he'll see how you haven't responded and he'll definitely laugh about it tomorrow.

you came into the office projecting confidence the next morning. ni-ki is already there, beating you in punctuality. he's leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone but smiled immediately when your eyes met.

"you're late," he drawls.

"shut up," you fired back, tossing your bag under the table. you saw another folder you've been dreading. ni-ki's opened it already— hands off, though.

"fuck... i couldn't sleep," he said, casually looking at your eyes.

who asked? is what you would've said but instead, it's: "why's that?" you leaned in, "last i heard, sleeping without protection was your specialty."

he nodded slowly. his urge of choking you to death using his necktie suddenly crossed his mind, like it always does whenever you talk back.

he never followed through, of course. because every time he pictures it, the ending is him fucking you instead. he saw you submitting not because of trust, but because you can't help it.

ni-ki sighed and quickly pulls your chair close to him, making your pulse quicken. "hmm, what do you mean 'heard'? we both know you know that for a fact," he teased, his hand trailing up to squeeze your thigh. "also, did i ever told you how bad you needed practice?"

heat blooms across your cheeks. didn't he say you fucked him good? this fucking guy keeps challenging you — mentally and sexually.

you scoffed and opened your mouth to retort but your boss already knocked on the door, barging in to start the meeting.

the day isn't even done, yet you and ni-ki have exchanged more messages than you have with anyone else all week:

nishimura riki: did you catch the way that idiot glanced at your legs during the meeting? that mf is gonna keel over later once you unplug your laptop.

that 'idiot' is notoriously stiff when it comes to 'office decorum.' the thought of him being flustered at your skirt is thrilling, but:

you: you know i'd rather see how you react when i ask you to take off my skirt.

nishimura riki: come to my office then, i'll show you.

you stood up as soon as everyone's too busy to notice your absence. you opened ni-ki's door without so much as a knock. the tall guy is leaning against the edge of his desk, shirt already untucked, tie loose — completely losing his patience.

you walk towards him. he traces a finger along your jaw, tilting your face up, brushing his thumb over your sexy lips.

"show me," you whispered, sliding both hands flat against his chest.

ni-ki leaned in. "hmm, watch me," he replied, turning you gently by the hips, pulling your ass against his crotch — where you can feel the rigid outline of his cock through his trousers. you pressed yourself back, grinding on him as his hand tightens on your hip.

"we have a meeting at six, right?" he murmurs in your ear. "let's get you naked under this skirt."

"i already am…"

unbelievable.

"you really are a fucking tease, huh?"

your breath hitched when you feel his tip nudging against your folds. ni-ki slowly slid inside your welcoming heat — his cock was so big and hard, making your knees buckle as you can practically feel him rearranging your guts without even moving.

ni-ki moaned, "oh, y/n—" biting his lower lip before pressing one more searing kiss to your neck. "i could stay like this all day," he said.

you let out a shaky gasp, head dropping forward with a whimper. your fingers reached back, grabbing his hands — his big, warm hands that are locked around your hips. "ni-ki…"

"let's not sin so much today," he groaned softly, hips giving one teasing rock that makes your whole body jolt before he pulls his cock out. he stepped back and adjusted your skirt like a gentleman — making you feel full and hollow in the same instant.

that same afternoon, you decided to head to the break room for water. you stop short when you saw ni-ki with the boss' niece, who came to visit the office.

she's laughing, batting her eyelashes at him while grinning so hard. you didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she mentioned something about wanting him to show her around — and that guy just casually folds his arm around her shoulders.

"look at you, you social climber," you interrupted, clapping your hands slowly, it echoed like a gunshot.

ni-ki glances at you lazily over the girl's shoulder. the niece looks startled, she gave you both a sheepish laugh before excusing herself.

"how long have you two been planning world domination?"

"are you jealous?" he asked, chuckling as he drags out a chair for himself. "'cause i'm telling you that's pathetic."

"wha—?"

"don't worry, y/n. it's just been few days, i'll make sure to find some time for my favorite brat."

you scoffed, grabbing your water a little too aggressive. "wow... you sound so proud of being passed around like a party favor."

"passed around?" he repeated, raising a brow. "jealousy already doesn't suit you and now you're possessive too?"

you shot him a sharp glare but he just leans back in his chair, spreading his legs like he's offering you a seat.

ni-ki sighed, "fine, i'll come over tonight," he declared so casually, it made your jaw drop.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me." he stretched and yawned. "you don't have to agree. i've already made up my mind."

"you're crazy."

he stands up, brushing past you as he grabs a protein bar "leave the door unlocked for me, okay?" he whispered, leaning in to give your cheek a quick kiss.

the sound of your skins slapping were obscene. ni-ki's breaths were heavy, his muscles tensed doing his best holding back from losing control. his necklace kept bouncing against his chest every time he slid in and out of your wet cunt. he hit it deep and slow, making your toes curl.

you looked down and watched at where your bodies met.

"oh, my–" he groaned when he felt your walls flutter around his cock. "this feels so fucking insane right now."

your arms tightened around his shoulders. "you haven't fucked me in days," you breathed out, looking up at him, admitting, "i was so stressed out."

"yeah, i know," he replied, "and look how mean you've gotten."

"kiss me..." you asked shyly — too quiet for ni-ki who was busy thrusting, far gone in the rhythm he was chasing to even hear it.

frustrated, you reached up and grabbed his hair — hard. your fingers got tangled so deep in the roots of his bleached strands, yanking him down without warning so you could force his mouth closer.

"ah—f-fuck—!" ni-ki hissed, jolting from the sharp tug. his hips slowed down for a second.

his palm slapped your arm away, the sound echoed a little loud in the room. it wasn't as harsh as what you did, but it was firm because he was hurt. a very clear response to pain.

your eyes slightly widened when he snatched your wrist, flipping you like you're a dead weight. one second you were just looking up at him — now, your face was pressed into the pillow, ass up. ni-ki's hand stayed flat on your lower back, keeping you in place.

his fingers dove straight into your hair, fisting it tight, pulling your head up until your back arched and your spine hit his chest. it forced a cry out of your throat, you quickly hold on to the headboard for your own control.

"it hurts, right?" he muttered, brows furrowed. his voice sounded pissed. "you dumbass."

your mouth parted to argue but you were too breathless and stunned at how fast he turned the tables on you.

ni-ki let go of your hair roughly. your cheek sank back into the pillow. his hands slid down to your hips, spreading you wider. it was careless and he moved confident as he positioned you just how he wanted.

your moans started crumbling into soft sobs — not from pain but from realizing how you weren't too used to getting caught off guard, let alone losing control.

your thighs started shaking, your breath had gone shallow, and ni-ki noticed it right away.

"shit—" he cursed under his breath, the movement of his hips started faltering before slowly pulling out from your pussy. he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck gently. "can you sit up?"

you nodded weakly. he helped you, pulling you gently onto his lap, seating you over one of his thighs while holding you carefully. "did i scare you?" he asked, worried and cautious.

"no...not at all." you replied, shaking your head in assurance.

ni-ki sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. he place a long kiss your temple, "i'm sorry, y/n." he continued, "do you want to stop?"

you sniffled and pulled back to look him in the eye like you're a little offended, "hell no."

a small grin broke across his face. he's amused, relieved, but mostly turned on all over again. ni-ki buried his face into your neck, laughing softly. "good," he murmured, lips dragging across your skin.

"ride me."

each movement felt better than the last. his cock dragged against the deepest part of you, his blunt tip kept hitting your cervix, making you gasp in pleasure.

ni-ki sat back against your headboard, his thighs spread wide, letting you straddle him fully. his hands never stopped moving – gripping your waist or holding your nape, the other catching the bounce of your breast. his thumb grazes over your nipple, and sometimes, he'd lean in to suck it, groaning at the way your pussy clenched in response.

his hair was messy. he was so loud – groaning through his gritted teeth – that goddamn chrome necklace catching the low light as he tip back his head to moan.

you can't stop staring. you can't stop running your fingers through his hair, brushing the strands back, or cupping his jaw just to see his face better.

"ni-ki..." you whispered.

his eyes blinked open, resting his forehead against yours.

you were moving fast and steady, sinking down on his dick over and over again while your bodies stayed too close — noses brushing, stealing each other's air.

"you– you're so handsome," you breathed out, barely even realizing you said it.

"me?"

"yes," you whispered. "you."

he grinned and leaned forward after hearing that double down. ni-ki gave you a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your fingers threading through his hair again as your hips rocked in desperate circles.

you pulled back to suck on his jaw next, under his ear, then down to his neck — biting softly, marking him. you wanted to leave something there. something that would remind him how much you wanted to do this over and over again.

now, you're sitting in the center of your mattress, blinking stupidly slow as you try to process just how many times he made you cum. "g– god," you mumbled, "i think my spine broke."

ni-ki huffs a soft laugh, still catching his breath too, resting his head on his arm while his other hand would caress your stomach or squeeze your boobs. "you're fine... it's hurting because you are still talking too much."

"o– ow..."

ni-ki sat up and hugged you. placing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, and then to your temple. "fine, let's have it checked later. just lay down with me for now."

you nodded, laying down, pressing your back against his chest. you felt his smile against your skin, smug and fond. ni-ki palmed your breasts again... he can't stop touching you even if he wanted to.

"mm, you're such a baby," he murmurs against your hair, "what happened to the terrifying monster who's always mean and yells at me in meetings?"

"dead," you replied quietly, leaning against him. "she died."

ni-ki chuckled again after seeing you blush. he grinned before peppering kisses on your cheek again and he doesn't say it but he adores this messy, clingy, soft version of you.

the one only he ironically gets to see.

you sniffled, pressing your face to his neck. "ni-ki..."

"what?"

"i wanna see bisco."

"oh..."

"i– i wanna see your dog," you sniffled again, voice sleepy and soft. "even if he hates me…"

ni-ki smiled and whispered, "okay, baby." brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead, "i'll take you to see bisco as soon as he gets home."

later after a doctor's consultation, the dog-sitter also dropped off bisco. you're already in his apartment, in his shirt he basically forced you into wearing.

"wait–!" ni-ki reached out to get bisco but it ran towards to where you were. "bisco!" you gasped, eyes lighting up as you rushed toward the tiny white ball of fur that sprinted right away from you.

"bisco, come on! we brought you snacks!" you tried coaxing, crawling on your knees to look under the couch, but the little thing lunged out and bit your wrist – not hard but more of a warning chomp – "fuck– ow!"

ni-ki leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smiling like a proud dad watching the chaos unfold. "i told you he's dramatic."

you didn't care. you kept following bisco around the room, letting him bite, bark while you giggled and chased him with unearned affection... which ni-ki found strange because before, you probably would've fought with that small dog, until it fears you for rejecting you.

finally, bisco ran out of energy and jogged towards his bed, completely ignoring you like a diva.

you pouted and walked back to ni-ki, dragging your feet like you'd just been dumped. "why is it sweet to everyone but me, huh?" you mumbled, melting into his waiting arms.

ni-ki laughed and tugged you in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "i don't think he hates you, y/n," he murmured, voice soft as his hand roamed slowly down your ass. "give it some time."

"or he knows you've been giving someone else all your attention." you added, rolling your eyes. "right? i knew it, he's jealous."

his lips found yours. "no," kiss. "he's not," kiss. "jealous," kiss. the kisses are so different from before. no clashing of teeth, no busting a lip open, or bruising... it feels like forgiving each other.

and usually, this groping and kissing would spiral into sex, but today, you both weren't even thinking about it. there's just the need to be close, not just to get off.

ni-ki was so distracted by you that he doesn't even know when did he stopped trying to win in everything.

he had plans too, you know? he thought about getting his lick back but whenever you come around, the noises in his head disappears, the urge to get even fades, and suddenly, there's nothing even left to fight for.

he pulls back just enough to see your face. you blinked up at him, tired and sleepy, your lips were still swollen from all the nonstop kissing.

but still, you're so goddamn kissable.

you gave ni-ki a kiss again when you saw him staring – once, twice – "i gotta go," you whispered eventually.

"this early?"

"yeah, i'm getting hungry."

"we can cook–"

"stop–"

"–y/n..." he interrupted, cutting you off. ni-ki opened his mouth then closed it before clearing his throat. "no. nothing. just…" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. his eyes kept darting down to the floor like he couldn't believe he was about to say it. "just take care, okay?"

you tilted your head, "t–thanks…"

what the hell?

you're still mean and you still drive him insane, ni-ki took a deep breath – he swore he hates being this kind of guy but fuck it.

now or never.

"do you wanna have dinner with me?" he asked. he said it a little too fast, it's obvious that he was shy. "outside."

"huh?" you blinked. "you mean like–"

"yeah," he said, pressing his lips together, swallowing thickly. "like a–"

"...like a date."

ni-ki braces himself for the teasing and for your usual sharp reply. he knows you'll probably laugh in a few seconds but right now, you're just staring at him, eyes wide in surprise and that alone slightly gave him a little hope.

and he thinks, if this is how he loses, then fine.

let's let it be you.

a/n: my biggest opp 3k notes special! thank you so much for all the love and good comments. the first part came out on march 1 so it's been three months... there's so much (an understatement lmao) drafts for this and lots of scenes did not make it. as you can see, it's not so much focused on the smut and i honestly don't know if anyone will see this or if this part two this is good enough.

i teared up writing this T_T burning blue - mariah the scientist

tagging: @asaheyow @n4mh0pe @sunghoonsarmpit

[heeluvv]

˗ˏˋ 07. FIRST TIMER ˎˊ˗

pairingᝰ.ᐟ yang jungwon x reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

statusᝰ.ᐟ 7/9 completed!

the late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds in slatted gold, painting the apartment floor in soft stripes of warmth that stretched toward the kitchen. the air was quiet, too quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the wood beneath shifting weight. sunoo leaned against the counter, his posture casual but his expression anything but, the curve of a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he twisted the cap on a water bottle absentmindedly. across the room, jungwon sat curled up on the couch with his legs folded beneath him, his brows slightly furrowed as he glanced between sunoo and jake, sensing something was off. jake hadn’t said much since jungwon walked in—his arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes unreadable as they lingered on the floor and then flicked up every now and then, like he was holding something back. jungwon couldn’t tell if it was tension or anticipation that made the silence stretch so long, but either way, he felt it crawling up his spine. finally, it was sunoo who broke it, sighing through his nose before speaking in a quiet but steady voice. “i’m just gonna say it—we’re all kind of losing our shit over the same girl.”

the words seemed to echo in the stillness, landing heavier than jungwon expected as he blinked, startled. he didn’t interrupt, didn’t even breathe for a second, just watched sunoo’s fingers trace along the ridge of the bottle like he needed something to do with his hands. “heeseung, jay—almost all of us and now me too,” sunoo continued, his voice softer now, tinged with something close to disbelief. “we’ve all worked with her. and i don’t mean just filmed with her—i mean something’s different. she’s not like the others.” jungwon stayed quiet, the room feeling suddenly too warm as the weight of their obsession unfolded in front of him, more real now than any of the quiet mutterings he’d overheard before. the tension that had been brewing in the background of their group dynamic now made perfect sense—the sidelong glances, the vague references, the sudden drops in conversation when he walked in. sunoo shifted then, the mood lifting slightly as he tilted his head, tone taking on a teasing lilt. “you should check her out, won. the subs have been begging you to collab anyway. might as well see what you’re missing.” something deep in jungwon’s chest stirred at the suggestion—not just curiosity, but something hotter, something restless. “maybe i will,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, before rising to his feet with a determined set to his jaw.

the hallway was cooler, dimmer as he padded quietly toward the room at the end, his heart picking up pace for reasons he didn’t want to name yet. he paused outside ni-ki’s door, knuckles tapping twice before he pushed it open without waiting for a response. the scent of fabric softener and faint cologne hit him first, followed by the soft glow of ni-ki’s laptop screen as he sat at his desk, eyes flicking up to meet jungwon’s with mild surprise. “i think i’m gonna do it,” jungwon said, voice quiet but steady, his fingers curling into the pockets of his hoodie as he leaned against the frame. ni-ki didn’t respond right away—just arched a brow, gaze narrowing slightly as he waited for more. “i want to collab with her,” jungwon clarified, and though he didn’t say your name, they both knew who he meant. “the guys are all hooked and… i want to understand why. i think it’s time i actually start doing this for real.” ni-ki leaned back in his chair slowly, a smirk playing on his lips, but his tone stayed calm. “you sure? that’s not just a toe dip—you’re diving in.” jungwon nodded once, resolve settling behind his nerves. “if anyone’s gonna get me to do it, it’s her.” ni-ki gave a slow shrug and turned back to his screen. “then go for it,” he said simply. “but let me know if she’s really as addictive as they say.”

—

jungwon lies in bed, the sheets rumpled beneath him, legs slightly tangled as he props his phone just above his chest, the glow from the screen casting a faint shimmer over his features. the room is quiet except for the low hum of his fan, and the soft golden light from his desk lamp spreads across the duvet, flickering every time he shifts his hand or thumb taps against the glass. he’s been thinking about it all day—about the way sunoo leaned back in his chair, half-sighing as he talked about you, about how real his words had felt even when said with a smile. it wasn’t just the teasing tone or the half-jokes about how you had all of them wrapped around your finger—it was something deeper, something that stayed behind long after the conversation ended. jungwon had seen it in their eyes too—that distant dazedness whenever you came up, like you were still in the room even after they left you behind. it haunted him more than it should’ve, the image of someone they all seemed unable to forget, someone they never even described in detail. it felt like they were guarding something, like they wanted to keep you for themselves, and that alone made curiosity bloom hot and anxious in his chest. he didn’t know why it was affecting him this way—but it was, and it wasn’t going away. so he finally gives in, fingers hovering only a second before tapping into his chat with sunoo, typing out the message quick and messy before the nerves could tell him not to.

“hey… what’s her username?” 

and before he even locks his phone, his response comes back in a blink. 

@babydollxo, just so you know her name is y/n

no hesitation, just the bare name like he’s handing him the last puzzle piece. his thumb hovers for a second before he clicks over to the site, breathing slowly through his nose as he searches the tag, chest already tight with anticipation. and when your page loads, it’s like something in him stills completely—no profile photo, no long description, just two videos and a name that shouldn’t feel this intimate, but already does. he doesn’t even realize he’s started biting his lip until he presses play.

the first video begins slow, barely lit, the frame hazy in a way that looks accidental at first—until he realizes every detail is intentional, curated to feel soft and close and personal. you’re on your back, hand between your thighs, the lighting angled low so that your skin glows in soft gold and pink, every part of you glistening under the faint shimmer of sweat. your voice is quiet but clear, breathy like you’re whispering directly into his ear, like he’s stumbled into something he shouldn’t be seeing, but now that he is, he can’t look away. your hips lift slightly with each circle of your fingers, your thighs trembling, and the camera stays still—clean, unshaken, perfectly steady as if it were made just for his eyes. his hand dips under your waistband without thinking, his fingers wrapping slowly around himself as the pressure builds low in his stomach. he strokes once, twice, syncing with the way your breath catches, matching your pace as you whimper something too soft to catch but loud enough to ruin him. he exhale shakily, eyes glued to the screen, and his hips twitch forward as you arches, moaning for someone that isn’t him—but still somehow feels like it could be. his thumb brushes over the head of his cock and he hisses, teeth gritting as he closes his eyes briefly, trying not to fall apart before he even gets to the second clip.he pauses, heart pounding, fingers slick with precum as he hovers over the next thumbnail, the preview showing just the outline of your thighs and the curve of your stomach. his breath is ragged now, chest rising and falling with a kind of urgency he doesn’t recognize in himself, and for a second he considers stopping—just waiting until tomorrow, until he’s more in control. but he can’t. not when he’s already this far, not when the tension in his body is wound so tight that it hurts to move slowly. he taps the screen again, the second video loading with a flicker, and this time your kneeling—closer to the lens, your eyes still out of frame, but everything else on full display. the way your fingers glide between your legs is slower now, almost teasing, like you know someone new is watching. he swallows hard, gripping himself tighter as your moans rise softly into the silence, echoing off the walls of his room like they were made just for him. his hips jerk into his palm and he bites down on a whimper, heat coiling deep in his stomach as your pace builds again, and he can’t stop the way his hand moves faster—matching yours, chasing the same high.

he can’t help it anymore—he whispers your name, not even realizing it had left his lips until the syllables echo faintly in the space around him, his body tenses and trembles as his orgasm builds fast, urgent, relentless. your voice breaks in the video just as his does in real life, and he fall over the edge with a gasp, head falling back against his pillows, hand still stroking through it as he rides the wave to its end. the screen starts to fade into black, the last frame frozen on the soft part of your lips, swollen and wet with the weight of your pleasure, and he feels dizzy—like he’s just stepped out of something too big for his chest. his breath evens out slowly, chest still rising, and he closes his eyes for a beat, letting the air settle before glancing down at your username again. @babydollxo. it repeats in his mind like a chant, like a craving, and even though he had just finished, his fingers twitch with the urge to open the messages. not for a follow. not even to tip. but to say something.

something that would make you look at him next.

—

the soft chime of your doorbell slices through the quiet of your apartment, jolting you from the stillness that had settled like dust around you. your laptop hums quietly from the couch, screen still open on a half-finished assignment, but your focus has already scattered as your bare feet move toward the front door with hesitant steps. when you pull it open, expecting maybe a neighbor or a delivery you forgot about, you’re met with an empty hallway—silent, untouched—except for the delicate bouquet resting against the doorframe like a secret left behind. your breath catches in your throat as you crouch to pick it up, fingers brushing over the velvety petals, the soft pastel shades blooming like a painting against the late afternoon light. it smells like warmth and something tender—roses, peonies, tiny sprays of baby’s breath—and nestled between the stems is a folded piece of paper, your name written on it in handwriting you didn’t recognize. you shut the door behind you as you step back inside, setting the bouquet gently on the kitchen counter before slipping your finger under the lip of the note and unfolding it with care. 

i didn’t think one night could do this to me. but it did. maybe it was the way you said my name. maybe it was the way you didn’t treat me like i was just another collab—like i was someone worth seeing, worth touching slowly, worth remembering. i’ve watched the video more times than i should admit. not for the content, but because of the way i felt in it. with you. i want to know what’s behind the camera. i want to see you again—really see you. not to film. not to fuck. just to feel whatever this is, for real.

yours truly,

heeseung.

you read it again, slower this time, your chest tightening with every sentence, your hand flattening against the cool counter just to ground yourself, because it’s too much—too beautiful—and you don’t know what to do with it.

you stare at the flowers a moment longer, letting the scent and sentiment soak into your skin, before you’re pulled away by the buzz of your phone from the couch behind you. it vibrates once, sharp and sudden, and you move on autopilot, padding across the room with your heartbeat still fluttering against your ribs, unsure if you want it to be him again or if that would make it worse. but it’s not heeseung. it’s someone new—unexpected. your phone lights up with a new notification from a username that triggers something distant in your memory: 

@wonsodirty

 you stare at it for a second, blinking slowly as your thumb hovers over the alert, something curling in your stomach—not anxiety exactly, but something heavier, something curious.

 wonsodirty: “hey… i’ve been thinking about something. want to collab?” 

the words feel weightless and loaded all at once, the kind of casual that masks a storm underneath, and suddenly you're remembering the preview clip you watched when you first joined—him, soft-spoken but intense, his voice low and his eyes dark. you’d forgotten about him in the chaos of everything else, the whirlwind of heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon and sunoo—but now here he is, quiet and unexpected, slipping into your inbox with a tension that coils low in your spine.

you don’t open the message right away. your fingers linger above your screen as you sink into the couch, the petals of heeseung’s bouquet still within view on the kitchen counter, their colors glowing softly under the golden hour light. it’s too much at once—too many emotions curling around each other, too many paths tugging at your sleeve. you press your phone to your chest for a moment, as if stilling the beat of it might still your thoughts too, but your heart only stutters harder beneath the weight of it. eventually, you unlock the screen and reread jungwon’s message, the simplicity of it making your breath falter in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not forward, not demanding—just thoughtful, tentative, like he’s trying to enter without disturbing something delicate. your thumbs hover over the keyboard as you try to decide how to respond, caught between the memory of his voice in that short preview and the softness you’d always sensed beneath it. finally, your fingers start to move, slow but certain: 

“sure… i’d love to. when were you thinking?” 

you hit send before you can second-guess it, the air still thick around you, and immediately, three dots bounce on your screen like they’ve been waiting there all along.

his reply comes almost instantly, and you can practically hear his tone in the way he types, every message carefully spaced like he’s trying not to overwhelm you. 

wonsodirty: “is tonight okay?” 

he asks, then quickly follows upwonsodirty: “if not that’s okay too, i just… want to talk to you. maybe plan something?”

it’s the second message that tugs at you—gentle, unsure, like he’s afraid of getting it wrong. and there’s something about it that makes your chest ache, because it doesn’t feel like someone reaching for content, it feels like someone reaching for connection. you tuck your legs underneath you, blinking at the flowers on the counter again before shifting your gaze back to your phone, your breath catching slightly when you read his next text. 

wonsodirty: “i know this is random. but you’ve kind of been stuck in my head lately.” 

it echoes too closely to the letter you just read, the one still folded neatly on your counter, and you close your eyes for a second, wondering what the hell the universe is trying to tell you. but when you open them again, you’re typing your address, fingers trembling slightly, a small smile pulling at your lips despite the confusion bubbling underneath. 

“come over” 

—-

the knock is gentle, barely louder than the hum of your thoughts, but it’s enough to pull you back to the present. your fingers twitch as you smooth the front of your shirt, brushing down fabric that doesn’t really need adjusting, and you let out a quiet breath that feels more like a sigh. your heart beats a little quicker—not out of fear, but something closer to nerves, anticipation folding into curiosity. you cross the room in slow steps, every footfall padded against the floor, and when your hand turns the lock and pulls the door open, everything halts. he’s standing there like he wasn’t prepared to see you, like your face caught him off guard in the most disarming way. his eyes catch the light, wide and almost sparkling, and his mouth parts slightly—no greeting, no hello, just a soft stunned silence that says more than words ever could. “come in,” you say gently, your voice soft with amusement, and his gaze doesn’t shift even as he moves forward, as if he’s still processing the fact that you’re real. the door clicks closed behind him, and you can’t help the quiet giggle that escapes you when he lingers there, stuck in place like he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to do.

he clears his throat awkwardly, the sound small in your cozy living room, and his eyes flick from the couch to the shelves to the soft throw blanket hanging off the side of the armchair. it’s like he’s memorizing everything, like the details of your space matter just as much as the way you looked when you answered the door. “it’s just me for now,” you offer, your voice filling the silence with a kind of casual comfort. “my roommate won’t be here tonight.” he nods, once, then again a little slower, as if your words need time to settle inside him. there’s a flush on his cheeks, barely there but unmistakable, and when his eyes finally return to yours, they hold something fragile. “i’m sorry for the way i’m acting,” he says quietly, almost like it’s embarrassing to admit. “you’re just so… pretty.” the words land soft but heavy, and for a second, neither of you moves—like the air between you has thickened with meaning, like this is the start of something that neither of you can take back.

you feel the compliment land somewhere low in your chest, warm and grounding, like the way sunlight lingers on your skin even after you’ve stepped into the shade. there’s a breathless kind of hush in the room now, not uncomfortable, but charged—like both of you are waiting for the other to move first. “thank you,” you say softly, the corners of your lips tugging upward, and when he offers you the smallest, most earnest smile in return, it makes your heart stutter. “do you wanna sit?” you ask, your hand motioning toward the couch, and he nods a little too quickly, like he’s afraid you might take the offer back. jungwon moves carefully, like he’s trying not to disturb anything, his shoulders stiff with the weight of being in unfamiliar territory—but when he finally settles beside you, he exhales like he can breathe again. there’s a moment of silence as your knee brushes his, just barely, and you see the way his jaw clenches before he dares to glance at you again. “i’m a little nervous,” he admits, voice low, almost apologetic, as he tugs at the hem of his sleeve like it’s a lifeline. “but i wanna do this... with you,” he adds, eyes searching yours, and something inside you softens at how genuine he looks—like there’s no performance, no script, just him wanting to be seen.

you turn to face him fully now, folding one leg beneath you, and rest your hand gently against his arm, grounding him with your touch. “you don’t have to be anything but yourself, jungwon,” you say, and you mean it—it’s in your voice, steady and sure, wrapping around his nerves like a balm. he breathes in deep, then lets it go slowly, his eyes fluttering closed for half a second before he opens them again, this time steadier. “i’ve never done this before,” he confesses, the tips of his ears flushing red, but there’s no shame in it—just honesty, unfiltered and laid bare for you to take or leave. “then we’ll go slow,” you assure him, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles, and it’s that small touch that finally lets him lean into the moment instead of away from it. you lean in first, bridging the space between you without rushing it, and when your lips meet his, it’s tender and coaxing, like an invitation rather than a command. jungwon responds with the hesitancy of someone unused to being wanted like this, but his hands still find your waist, fingers pressing in as he starts to kiss you back, more sure of it this time.

you pull back just enough to see the soft flush blooming across jungwon’s cheeks, his eyes still heavy-lidded from the kiss, lips parted like he’s chasing the ghost of your mouth. “come with me,” you whisper, fingers curling around his hand as you rise to your feet, and he follows without question, the grip he has on you just tight enough to say he doesn’t want to let go. the hallway is quiet as you guide him toward your bedroom, each step thick with anticipation, the air between your bodies humming with the weight of everything left unsaid. once inside, you release him gently, letting him take in the space while you move toward the dresser and retrieve your small tripod, adjusting the angle to face the bed in soft lighting. he watches you silently, like every motion is a spell, and when you click the record button on, you glance over your shoulder to meet his gaze. “do you trust me?” you ask, voice soft but serious, and jungwon doesn’t hesitate—he nods, stepping closer, eyes steady as he says, “yes. i trust you.” the words settle deep in your chest, something grounding and intimate in the way he gives himself over to the moment without hesitation.

you walk to him slowly, closing the space between your bodies until your fingertips brush along the hem of his shirt, dragging upward with unhurried care as you ease the fabric over his head. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and when your palms glide up his chest, he shivers just slightly, breath hitching as your mouth finds his again—this time deeper, hungrier, filled with something that pulses between your ribs. jungwon kisses like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you, the rhythm, the taste—his hands resting at your hips, not pulling, just holding like he doesn’t want the moment to slip through his fingers. your fingers trail down his sides, nails skimming gently along his waist, and the way he exhales against your lips makes heat curl low in your stomach. you press forward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits without protest, eyes locked on yours with something close to awe. “you’re doing so good,” you murmur, brushing his hair back from his face, and his lips part, pupils blown wide as he whispers your name like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth. you climb onto his lap slowly, knees bracketing his thighs, your lips grazing his as you whisper, “let me take care of you.”

your lips barely leave his for more than a breath before you're pulling him in again, letting the kiss grow slower, deeper, more consuming with every tilt of your head. jungwon trembles under your touch, his hands gripping your waist like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, his breath hitching every time your tongue brushes against his. you can feel how hard he is through his sweats, the way he jerks faintly every time your body presses a little too close, and it only spurs you on—makes you kiss him harder, hungrier, your fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. his hips twitch up into yours without meaning to, and when you moan softly into his mouth, he breaks—his fingers digging into your sides, a stuttered gasp leaving him as he whines your name against your lips. you feel the sudden warmth through the fabric, the way his body jerks again, overwhelmed, as he finishes just from the way you kiss him like he means something. his breath shakes as it catches in his throat, chest heaving as his eyes flutter open slowly, dazed and glassy and full of disbelief. “i’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking with embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a deep, gorgeous red that creeps down his neck. but you only smile, brushing your nose against his and kissing the corner of his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“don’t be,” you murmur, voice soft and warm as your hands cradle his jaw, grounding him. “that just means i’m doing something right.” jungwon swallows hard, blinking up at you like he doesn’t know what to do with himself now, but he still doesn’t let go—his hands slide up to your waist again, gripping like he doesn’t want you to move.

his brows twitch like he wants to say something more, maybe apologize again, but you hush him with a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another along his jaw. your fingers slide down his chest, slow and careful, feeling the way he shivers under your touch as you trail lower, past his stomach, to the waistband of his sweats. “can i?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, even though the room feels thick with tension already. he nods immediately, breath catching as he shifts his hips to give you room, his eyes glued to your hands like he can’t believe this is really happening. “i wanna make you feel good,” you murmur, and he swallows so hard it makes his whole throat jump, his body going still as your fingers dip beneath the waistband and tug gently.

he helps you out of your clothes as you help him out of his sweats slowly, letting them slide down his legs until he kicks them off the edge of the bed, his thighs trembling faintly with leftover tension. jungwon’s cock is already sensitive, the head flushed a deep pink and still glistening slightly from the mess he made earlier, and you lean down to kiss his inner thigh first, soft and slow. the sound he makes is quiet—just a shaky little exhale that leaves his lips parted, his head tilted back against the pillow as he watches you with wide eyes. your tongue traces a warm path up his thigh before you press another kiss just beside his length, and he twitches in response, his hand fisting into the sheets. “you don’t have to—” he starts, voice ragged, but you silence him with one look, your fingers wrapping gently around his cock. “i want to,” you say, firm and sure, and then you lower your mouth, letting your tongue flick over the head in one slow, teasing pass that has his hips jerking before he can stop them.

you hum softly as you take him deeper, your hand stroking what your lips can’t reach yet, and jungwon’s entire body tenses beneath you like he’s caught between pleasure and disbelief. “oh my god,” he whispers, his voice breaking on the edges of every syllable, his hand hesitating in the air before it finally lands on your shoulder, gripping softly. he’s trying not to move, trying not to buck into your mouth, but you can feel how hard it is for him to stay still—especially when your lips sink lower, your cheeks hollowing around him. his thighs tighten around your arms, his breath turning into these quiet, whimpering little gasps that make you want to push him even further. you bob your head slowly, keeping the rhythm steady, letting the suction drag heat up his spine with every pass. his fingers tighten against your shoulder, and his voice comes out broken when he breathes, “you feel—fuck, you feel so good.” and you glance up, eyes meeting his, just in time to see the way his lips part wider, completely undone.

jungwon’s hand trembles against your shoulder, fingers flexing like he’s trying to ground himself, to stop the overwhelming heat that’s rushing straight to his gut. you can feel it in the way his hips twitch beneath you, the way his thighs begin to shake as he whispers your name like a secret prayer, caught between panic and bliss. “w-wait,” he breathes, chest heaving as his voice cracks, “fuck, i’m gonna—” but the words never finish because your tongue swirls around the head just right and his whole body jolts like he’s been shocked. you ease up just enough to tease him again, letting your lips ghost over the tip with a hum, and his eyes roll back for a second before he clenches them shut. “i can’t… not like this again,” he stammers, his other hand fumbling to touch your wrist, to signal anything through the haze clouding his mind. “please… can i—can i be inside you?” he asks, the plea barely above a whisper but thick with yearning. you pause, blinking up at him as your hand strokes him gently, and the look on his face is one of pure need—desperate and soft and honest.

you release him with one last kiss just above his base, dragging your lips upward until they reach his stomach, pressing small kisses into his skin as you make your way back up to straddle his waist. jungwon’s hands rise automatically to hold your hips, his fingers splayed wide like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. you smile down at him, your hair falling over your shoulder as you lean in to kiss him, slower this time, letting him taste himself faintly on your tongue. he moans into your mouth, his grip tightening, and you feel the way his cock twitches again beneath you, brushing against your inner thigh like he’s barely holding it together. “you sure?” you ask gently, your voice brushing against his lips like silk, and he nods so fast it makes your heart squeeze. “i want it,” he whispers, breath shaky, “i want all of it—please.” your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the way it rises and falls beneath your palm, and you shift your hips forward, dragging your folds slowly along his length. jungwon gasps, his hands flying up to cup your face, and you swear he looks at you like you hung the moon.

his cock presses right where you’re wettest, gliding through the slick mess of your arousal like it was made to be there, and he whimpers when you start to grind against him. “god, you feel unreal,” he breathes, like he’s still trying to believe this is happening, like his mind hasn’t caught up with the fact that you’re not just a screen anymore. you reach down between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and his eyes widen when the head catches, parting you just barely. “breathe,” you whisper, watching him fall apart beneath you as you sink down, inch by inch, feeling him stretch you open slowly. jungwon lets out a broken moan, his nails digging into your waist, and his brows pinch together like the pleasure’s almost too much. “you’re so tight,” he groans, voice cracking again, “fuck, i don’t wanna cum yet, i wanna feel you.” you cup his cheek, grounding him, and start to rock your hips gently, letting your walls flutter around him with every movement. his lips part again, and his head tips back against the pillows, pure ecstasy painted across his features.

his hands tremble where they grip your hips, the pads of his thumbs stroking slow, reverent circles into your skin as if trying to memorize every inch. jungwon’s chest rises and falls with labored breaths, the softest little whines slipping from his lips each time your hips roll forward and back again. the heat between your bodies grows thick, humid, his hair clinging slightly to his forehead as his eyes flutter open and closed—completely dazed by how good you feel wrapped around him. “you’re… s-so tight,” he stammers, voice barely holding together, “it’s like—like you’re pulling me in more every time, fuck.” your hands press flat to his chest, feeling the wild pace of his heartbeat as you move slower on purpose, watching his brows furrow and mouth fall open in the prettiest kind of agony. his lips form your name again, this time dragged out between moans, and you can’t help but clench around him just to hear the way his breath catches. “god, i’m not gonna last,” he admits, biting down on his lip like it’ll help, even though his body’s already trembling beneath yours. “you feel too good… you’re too perfect, fuck—i’m never gonna forget this.”

you reach up to brush your fingers through his hair, smiling when he leans into your touch like he’s starved for it, his eyes dazed and glossy as they meet yours again. jungwon’s hands slide up to your waist, holding you tighter like he’s scared this will vanish if he doesn’t ground himself to your body. “i dreamed of this,” he whispers suddenly, so soft you almost miss it, “i’d close my eyes and try to imagine what being inside you would feel like… but nothing ever came close.” your heart stutters in your chest, but you keep your pace steady, dragging your hips forward so slowly it has his jaw dropping open with a choked whimper. “i love how you look like this,” he continues, his voice cracking at the edges, “on top of me… taking control… you’re unreal.” you can feel him twitch inside you, every movement of your body pulling another gasp or broken curse from his mouth as he tries so hard to hold on. your fingers curl around his wrists, encouraging him to just feel, to let go of the tension clinging to his limbs. “you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his grip tightening again, “fuck—i’m gonna say it a thousand times if you keep moving like that.”

his compliments pour from him like he’s lost his filter, everything he’s ever thought about you spilling into the space between your bodies with no shame. he keeps his gaze locked on your face as best he can, even when his eyes go heavy-lidded from pleasure, like he doesn’t want to miss a second of the way you ride him. “i’ve never felt anything like this,” he says again, breathless, “i didn’t know it could feel this good.” your hips slow just slightly, enough to grind down harder and deeper, and he gasps, his head tipping back as his thighs twitch beneath you. “please don’t stop,” he begs softly, the words trailing off into a whimper when your nails drag gently down his chest, “you’re driving me insane, but i want more.” you lean over him, lips grazing his jaw, and he turns his head to catch your mouth in a messy, desperate kiss, moaning into it when you roll your hips just right. his cock throbs inside you with every movement, thick and twitching and so achingly full, and you can feel how close he is already—like he’s trying so hard not to fall apart under you too soon.

you pull away from the kiss just enough to see his face, to watch the way his eyes search yours like he’s trying to hold on to reality. jungwon swallows hard, sweat glistening along his neck, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your waist again like he needs the contact to keep breathing. “you’re all i want,” he whispers, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud, “just you… right here, like this.” the admission makes your chest tighten, warmth blooming in your core as you move a little faster, taking him deeper with each thrust of your hips. his moans grow louder, more broken, as his legs spread wider, his toes curling into the sheets like he’s unraveling with every pass of your body over his. “fuck—please,” he pants, his voice pitching higher as he presses his forehead to your shoulder, “please, i’m so close.” you slow again just slightly, dragging it out, and the sound that leaves his mouth is so needy it has your stomach clenching with heat. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says between gasps, “but i’d let you ruin me every day if it means i get to feel like this.”

his body jerks beneath you, so sensitive and desperate, his hands now sliding up and down your sides as if grounding himself to the moment will keep him from flying apart. you shift slightly, circling your hips slower, watching the way jungwon’s head tilts back against the pillows, his lips parted in a soft, high moan that sounds like it’s being pulled from the deepest part of him. “please,” he gasps again, his voice trembling, “i’m gonna cum—i can’t—fuck, i’m so close.” but you don’t speed up, not yet, dragging it out just a little longer, watching his pretty face twist with frustration and pleasure so tangled they’re indistinguishable. your fingers stroke down the center of his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm, and he whines—an actual whine—as you tighten around him. “you’re so mean,” he breathes, but there’s no bite to it, only awe and heat and something that sounds dangerously close to love, “but you feel so fucking good, i’d let you do anything to me.” your lips find his again, slow and open-mouthed, your tongue curling against his in a kiss that has his hips jerking helplessly up into yours. he moans into your mouth, his entire body tightening beneath you, and when you finally start to move faster, his hands clamp down on your waist like he’s bracing for impact.

your pace grows steady again, rolling your hips down until you’re grinding into him just right—drawing out every sharp inhale and whimper that escapes his lips as he completely loses himself in you. jungwon’s eyes squeeze shut as his nails dig into your hips, his chest rising and falling so fast you can feel the heat radiating off him in waves. “fuck, fuck—i’m gonna—” he gasps, his words breaking off into a strangled cry as he presses his forehead against your shoulder, hips twitching beneath you. and then it hits him—his body arches, his mouth opens wide in a silent moan, and you feel him pulse deep inside you, thick warmth spreading as he finishes hard, completely undone beneath your touch. “oh my god,” he breathes, voice wrecked and trembling, “you—fuck, you feel like heaven.” his whole body stays tense for a moment before he finally slumps beneath you, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp with sweat. you brush his hair off his forehead gently, smiling when he blinks up at you like he’s still trying to process what just happened. “you ruined me,” he says softly, almost laughing as he says it, but there’s no regret in his voice—only wonder.

he blinks again, chest still rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you watch the way his lashes flutter like he’s on the edge of sleep already. “you didn’t even have to do anything crazy,” he whispers, his voice husky and slow, “just… kissed me. and i was gone.” you giggle under your breath, kissing his cheek before sliding your hand down his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart start to slow beneath your fingertips. he gazes up at you like you hung the stars, no trace of embarrassment—just awe, like he still can’t believe you’re real. “you’re amazing,” he says again, and this time it’s quieter, like it’s just for you. “i wanna do everything with you.” you can’t help but lean down again, your mouth brushing his as he sighs softly against your lips, completely soft now but still clinging to you like he never wants this moment to end.

his body is still warm against yours, his cheek resting on your chest as you both lie tangled together beneath the sheets, the room dim and silent except for the slow rhythm of your breaths. jungwon’s lashes flutter every now and then, like he’s drifting but fighting to stay awake, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest settle into something peaceful. your fingers thread lazily through his hair, combing back the soft strands that cling to his forehead, and he hums low in his throat—soothed, comforted, held. “i don’t want this to end,” he whispers suddenly, his voice thick with sleep but laced with something fragile, something real, as his arm curls tighter around your waist. you freeze just a little at the weight of the words, heart squeezing as your hand slows in his hair, your lips parting to respond but no words come out. he doesn't seem to notice your silence, only nuzzles closer, his nose brushing the space just beneath your collarbone before he lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. “you make everything feel calm,” he murmurs, quieter now, like he’s speaking into a dream, “like it’s okay to be soft here.” you press a kiss to the crown of his head, still unable to speak, because there’s something about the way he clings to you—not just with his hands, but with his whole body—that makes you want to hold him even tighter.

his thumb rubs slow circles into your side as his breathing evens out, and you stare up at the ceiling, your own thoughts unraveling like thread with every second that passes. you weren’t supposed to feel this much, not with any of them, and yet here you are—with your heart lodged somewhere between your throat and his sleepy voice echoing in your chest. you shift slightly, enough to tuck the blanket higher over his back, and he stirs only to let out a soft sigh, like your care wraps around him as much as the warmth of the bed. “you’re too good,” he says, almost inaudible now, and your eyes sting at the tenderness in his tone—because you know he means it, every word, every breath. your hand slides down to his back, fingers drawing idle shapes along his spine, and the comfort of it is mutual, grounding, like neither of you want to move or break the spell of this moment. but something inside you aches, because as perfect as this feels, you know it’s not simple—it’s messy and fragile and dangerous, and the more you try to pretend it’s not, the harder it hits. your throat tightens as the weight of it presses into your chest, tears prickling behind your eyes, and you don’t even know who you’re crying for—him, them, or yourself. so you close your eyes and hold him tighter, trying to memorize the feeling of this moment, even if you don’t know how long it will last.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ dare i say jungwon might be my fav >.<

taglistᝰ.ᐟ @starry-eyed-bimbo @vixialuvs @justaquarium @dark-moon-light02 @deobitifull @minjeong28 @wonzzziezzzz @wonsohl @psychicyouthfox @honeyfever @strayy-kidz @bloomiize @tunafishyfishylike @jaehaki @ihearteatingxo @songbyeonkim @sol3chu @mo0neng3ne @strxwbloody @hii01mii @merwdusa @dorrissakurada @lycxee @frequentlykit @heeenha6484 @sjakewrld @stwrlightt @parkjjongswifey @haneulhee @fr34k4c1dr41n @cozyre @vwricky @nyxtwixx @nuggets4lifers @yunkiconico @mynameis-rosie1 @leeknowslefteyebrow @babygguk98 @noiiny @horijiro @nshmrarki @delulumel @brooklyninawhitemustang @baedreamverse @stvrrylove @killedbycharlize @sehyojae @mylettterstoyou @metanoianlove @shaysimpss @kiokantalope @sanriwoozzz @mniwna @l1nn13 @gongyoorit @miszes @ineedheewoninmylife @seonhwastaar @ivyleyun @ari3ll4 @ssanhwatto @negin7 @koizekomi @enhaz1 @kittympirty @slayhaechan @semi-wife @tobiosbbyghorl @hoonsdrnkdzd @shy9-29 @heeenha6484 @heeseungsbm @kristynaaah @smlbch @kirinaa08 @millis-diary @kawaiichu32 @wonislife17 @minniesverse @k1ttyjwon @luvksnn @wondash @wooalt @sweetsoobie @nyxiebabyyy @jakezzgirlz @b1tem4rks @hoonneyyzz @mimimovv @hanjiversee @ch4c0nnenh4 @sarashusbandissunghoonfyime @tnafzi @bbypink @en-hoon02 @skzenhalove @azzy02 @sanchaah @planetmarlowe @miniw0nz @daisy-doo1 @femaholicc @cherryangel-coke @hooniesfvngs @kimsvtaes @mniwna @i-am-not-dal @star-hoon @wafflelyweddedmallow @certifiedjaeyunist @devouredyou @neogotmysam @nuki-riki @heesang07 @littlofang @simj4k3 @makgeolli-jw @ksnooppy @luvksnn @starryemiko @isagistar @nickiminajleftasscheek @jeonkaijoon @doveblackboat @haestuffs @srhnyx @azzy02 @bubblemoonclouds @diana021811 @wonuziex @blubb0 @choicila @nyfwyeonjun @neo-weareone @jooniesbears-blog @byshens @arourababy @dolliewon @shine1entertainment

[i-like-loserz]

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- but this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

[dollkuna]

the digest. clingy bf sukuna who can't stand when you go out without him :(

sukuna has a hard time taking no for an answer. so, when you told him your saturday date would have to be rescheduled, he wasn't exactly thrilled.

in fact, for the entire week leading up to it, he completely dismissed the idea, acting as if there was no universe in which you wouldn't be going out with him.

"are you wearing the black dress for dinner?" he’d asked, just a couple of days before, his voice a low rumble beside you. it was as if you hadn't already clearly laid out your actual plans. "you look nice in the black dress."

"i am wearing the black dress, actually," you hummed back, flipping to the next page of your novel. he was snuggled beside you under the warm sheets, comfortable and completely oblivious. "not for dinner, though. for the party. the one i'm going to. like i said."

in response, you’d gotten an grunt, which you’d taken as acceptance, or at least acknowledgement. that's why it struck you as so utterly odd, how completely shell-shocked he looked on said saturday, watching you get ready for an event that clearly wasn't a date.

"ryo," you sighed, seeing the storm brewing in his golden eyes. "relax." no, you weren’t betraying him, as sukuna so dramatically put it; you were just heading to a friend’s birthday party. "i really can't not go. it's a birthday. it only happens, you know, once a year. we can absolutely go tomorrow."

he narrowed his brows at you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. "relax? this is treason."

as you carefully put in your delicate earrings, you shot him a quick glance. "jesus, baby. i'll be back before you even know i'm gone."

for a brief second, a flicker of hope crossed sukuna's face. "and… i can't come?" your boyfriend looked absolutely adorable, pouting like that. you didn't dare point it out, though, not wanting to risk dampening his already fragile mood any further.

instead, you reached out and gently pinched his cheek, and he responded with a playful nip at your finger. "no, i'm sorry. it's really just a girls' thing."

"you won't even know i'm there," he insisted, his voice surprisingly earnest.

you couldn't help but laugh softly, tilting your head at him. "you're a 6'5, pink-haired man, dude. i think i'll know."

"don't call me that. and you don't love me," he muttered, turning his head away dramatically.

just then, your phone buzzed, and you knew without looking it was your friend. a quick honk from outside confirmed it – your ride was here, and you needed to leave. "don't be like that. you know i do."

"then stay." his voice was firm, unyielding.

"no."

"i knew it," he declared, a hint of self-pity in his tone.

"stop. okay, fine," you huffed, walking over to where he was still seated on the edge of the bed. you stepped between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. "i'll be back thirty minutes early."

his expression didn't change one bit. "stay."

"one hour early," you tried, chewing on your bottom lip, hoping to appeal to his logical side.

"stay."

throwing him a look, you squinted at sukuna. "do you even know how bargaining works?"

"stay." sukuna's poker face held as steady as ever, completely unbreakable.

you ran your fingers through his soft, spiky hair, a heavy, weary breath escaping you. "alright, fine. two hours early, and we can cuddle and watch movies after."

he paused, a tiny flicker in his eyes, like he was genuinely considering this new offer. then, he shook his head slowly. "stay."

your shoulders slumped, and you let out a long, theatrical groan. "you can pick the movie."

"deal." he'd won, and he knew it, a smug, triumphant look spreading across his face.

either way, you ended up coming home three hours early.

[mafiadad5]

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 1)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

Part 1 | Part 2 (coming June 30th) | Part 3 (coming soon)

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin’s out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You’re just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan’s mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He’s cute, addictive— you should stay away… you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what’s right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDNI 18+), angst, slight fluff.

𐙚 warnings- drug use, alcohol use, sex under the influence, lost of virginity, protected sex, oral (fem receiving), marking, praising, sorta rough sex, arguing, slight sexual Jaemin moment, mention of death.

𐙚 W/c- 14k

Now playing- House of balloons/ Glass table girls- The Weeknd

a/n- hi guys! I really wanted to post this all in one part, but tumblr had other plans loll. I’ve poured months (and a few breakdowns T.T) into this, so I really hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part, and I’d love to hear what you think <3

══════════════════════════

It was a typical Thursday night—  your desk lamp casted a soft glow over your notes as you flipped through flashcards for your biology test. You were focused, head down as you muttered terms under your breath, determined to cram as much into your brain as humanly possible before crashing, then came the voice.

"Oh, Y/n!!!"

Your door flew open with no hesitation. You didn't even have time to respond before Jaemin strolled in like he owned the place, grinning from ear to ear.

"What the fuck." You muttered under your breath, barely looking up as he waltzed in and flopped himself onto your bed. 

"Jaemin, what are you doing here— how did you even get in?" You asked, spinning in your chair with a look of disapproval stretched across your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Your hot roommate let me in."

You raised a brow. "The one who has a crush on you?"

"The one I may fuck." He said with a grin as he stretched out, hands behind his head, settling in like he had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

"Ok, yuck. Didn't you literally fuck the other one?" You said flatly, turning back to your desk, scooping up your stack of color coded flashcards with a sigh. "Seriously though, what are you doing here? I told you I'm locking in tonight."

"You lock in every night." He said, dragging out a dramatic sigh.

"And that's why our intelligence levels are not in the same bracket." You joked, a small smirk appearing on your lips, even though your eyes stayed focused on the pile in front of you.

"So you don't love me, I guess?" He asked, his voice tilting into that overly dramatic tone you knew too well.

"Exactly." You said, spinning around to face him again.

"Wow... so cold. After ten years of friendship, this is how I'm treated? Unrequited love, what a tragedy." He said, clutching his chest, face twisted in fake agony.

"I love you, Jaemin. I've loved you since we were nine. You're my best friend ever. There, happy now?" You said deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

He froze for a second, then grinned slowly. "Wow... so you really love me? Like, really love me? You'd do anything for me, because you're so in love with me, right?"

You narrowed your eyes immediately. You knew that tone, it was the 'I need something' voice.

"What do you want Jaemin?" You sighed, already regretting humoring him.

"Ugh, you know me too well. Ok, hear me out." He said sitting up now, a bright smile spreading across his face. "I need a favor. A small one— tiny really."

You crossed your arms. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to come to a party with me tomorrow night."

You blinked. "A party? Jaemin, you know I don't do parties. Especially not when I have class the next day."

"You have class at noon on Fridays." He countered quickly. "You'll be fine."

You gave him a long, skeptical look. "So all I have to do is... go to a party with you? That's it?"

He opened his mouth and hesitated.

You instantly leaned back. "Nope... nope, you're already pushing it. What's the real reason?"

"Wait! Just... let me explain, please." He clapped his hands together in a prayer gesture.

You sighed. "Ok fine. I'm listening, speak."

He sat up straighter, his grin faltering just a bit. "There's this guy, Haechan. I'm really fucking pissed at him."

You tilted your head. "Why?"

"He slept with the girl I really liked. Like, genuinely liked, not just thought was hot liked."

"Oof, I'm sorry." You said. "And... what does that have to do with me?"

He looked at you, dead serious now. "I want revenge."

You squinted. "What kind of revenge?"

"I want you to distract him. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs at the party, keep him busy, while I... you know."

"Jaemin." You said slowly. "Distract him from what?"

He hesitated for only a second, then smiled. "From me."

Your eyes narrowed. "If you're doing anything illegal, I'm out."

"I'm trying to fuck his sister."

There was a full beat of silence as your mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

"You what— seriously?" You said, disbelief and a reluctant laugh bubbling up all at once.

"She's hot!" He defended, already laughing. "And it's perfect, he'll lose his shit when he finds out."

"You couldn't just... I don't know, hook up with a girl he likes or something? Call it even?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah well, Haechan doesn't like girls." Jaemin said casually.

You blinked, your brows furrowing slightly. "...hmm?"

He held up a finger with a small smile. "Not like that, don't look at me like that."

You leaned back, smirking. "Mmm, sure."

"What I mean is, he doesn't have feelings for anyone. Not girls, not really anyone. He just uses people— gets what he wants, then tosses them aside. He's emotionally detached. Kind of fucked up, honestly."

You frowned slightly. "You're just being dramatic."

"He's dramatic!" Jaemin shot back. "The man throws house parties on Thursdays for no reason. He once invited a girl over, got head, and then called her a uber while she was still on her knees."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Damn, he sounds like a real asshole. How does someone like that have this big of a name already?"

"He's a senior." Jaemin said with a roll of his eyes. "But all he does is throw parties, drink, and do drugs. He's a loser honestly."

You exhaled. "So... all I have to do is distract him— nothing else?"

"That's it. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs for like twenty minutes. If he tries anything, call me and I'll come get you. Promise."

You bit your lip, thinking. "Ok Fine, but only this once."

"YES! Oh my god, I love you so much, you're actually the best." Jaemin said, beaming at you.

"Yeah, yeah. Now you owe me, pick up those flashcards." You said, tossing the stack into his lap as you turned back to your desk.

He caught them and gave a smile. "Delighted, my queen."

You just rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you reached for your pen.

══════════════════════════

You finished the final touches on your hair, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before grabbing your phone. Right on cue, Jaemin's name lit up the screen with a text:

Jaemin [11:47 PM]:

"I'm outside."

Stepping outside, you spotted him leaning against his car, arms crossed and a grin already spreading across his face as he saw you approach.

"Damn." He said, letting his gaze travel from head to toe with an exaggerated nod of approval. "You look sexy."

"Thank you, Jaemin." You replied smoothly, brushing past him with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He opened the passenger side door for you, but paused before you could step in. "I mean... we don't have to go right now, you know. We could go upstairs instead— chill a little, you and me... one on one." He tilted his head, giving you the same smirk he always uses when he's up to no good.

You raised your hand and snapped your fingers right in front of his face. "Focus."

"I am focused." He said, blinking slowly. "Just... not on the party anymore."

"Seriously." You said, sliding him a look as you walked to the car. "Is it your life's mission to try and sleep with every girl you meet?"

"Not every girl." He replied, shrugging as he followed behind. "Only the special ones."

You raised a brow. "And what would your mother think of you throwing yourself at someone who's practically your sister?"

"Ew, don't say it like that." He scowled, visibly shuddering. "That ruined it for me, thanks."

"Good." You smirked, climbing into the car.

He got in on the driver's side and started the engine, throwing you a side glance. "You're lucky I love you, anyone else and I'd have driven off by now in heartbreak."

"Right, so tragic." You said with fake sympathy, adjusting your seatbelt. 

Jaemin chuckled, turning up the music just enough to fill the space between you. The drive was short, maybe ten minutes at most, but the energy shifted just slightly as the neon lights of the house party came into view down the street.

He slowed the car and looked over at you. "Hey... real talk for a second."

You turned toward him, a little wary. "What?"

"I know I joke a lot." He said, eyes flicking over your face, a little more serious now. "But I'm not gonna throw you into the deep end or anything. If this gets weird or Haechan gets weird, just call me and I'll come get you, no questions."

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. "Jaemin..."

"And if you wanna bail at any point." He added. "Just say the word."

A small smile appeared on your lips. "Thanks. I mean it's just a distraction mission, right? I think I can handle that."

He nodded, but his gaze lingered on you. "I know you can. You're... careful, thoughtful— like you think ahead."

You gave a dry laugh. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not." He said. "Just means I won't have to worry about you doing something stupid."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

He hesitated, then said it gently: "I remember that conversation we had last year. About how you were still, you know... saving yourself."

Your cheeks flushed instantly. "Wow, really bringing that up right now?"

"I'm not judging." He said quickly. "I actually think it's cool. You're not like the rest of them, that's why I care if you're ok."

You looked out the window, the beat of the music fading under the weight of his words. "Thanks, I guess."

Jaemin parked across the street, cutting the engine. "I know I'm an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't bring you into this if I didn't trust you."

You exhaled slowly, then met his eyes. "Ok, let's do this."

"Hell yeah." He grinned, hopping out and circling around to open your door once more.

You stepped into the house, instantly hit by the loud bass of the music and the scent of weed, alcohol, and too much cologne. Bodies swayed under strobe lights, some grinding against each other, others already too far gone to care how they looked. Jaemin kept a casual, but protective hand on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, eyes scanning the room like he was on a mission.

"That's him." He muttered, leaning down so only you could hear. He nodded subtly toward the kitchen.

Your gaze followed and landed on a guy behind the counter, restocking a row of liquor bottles.

You paused, he was... hotter than expected.

Black hair, tan skin, a body that made a plain black tee and jeans look like he was born for it. His movements were effortless, confident. His smile, charming. There was something in the way he looked people in the eye when talking, like they were the only person in the room. Your lips parted slightly as you took him in, eyes dragging over the way his shirt clung to his waist, the veins on his forearm flexing as he adjusted a bottle.

"Oh no." Jaemin teased, pulling you out of your trance. "Are we losing you already?"

"No." You said too quickly, blinking yourself back into reality. "No, just observing."

"Mmhmm." Jaemin smirked. "Well, he's your target babe. You've got all night."

"Lucky me." You muttered half sarcastically, but then he grabbed your arm gently.

"You sure?"

You turned toward him. "Yeah, are you?"

He nodded, though a flicker of something uncertain passed over his face. "Just, wait." He reached into his pocket and held something out, a condom.

"Jaemin—"

"Just in case." He said, tone serious now. "Even if he insists, don't let him talk you into going raw, I mean it."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I'm not gonna do anything, relax."

"I know you won't, Y/n." He said, softer now. "But he'll try and sometimes the heat of the moment sneaks up on you. So just... have it, please."

You took it with a small nod and shoved it into your back pocket.

"Good luck with your girl." You said.

"Good luck with your guy. If you need me, call me."

And with that, you were on your own.

You straightened your shoulders, pulled your confidence up, and walked toward the kitchen— eyes locked on him the whole time. He didn't notice you at first, too busy rearranging cups and pouring mixers, but when he turned, his gaze landed on you like a spark.

"You look a little bored over here all alone." You said, voice smooth.

He looked you over slowly, thoroughly. "I am, are you gonna do something about that?"

"Maybe." You smiled, tilting your head. "But are you really worth my time?"

He grinned, a cocky thing that only made him more irresistible. "Maybe."

You watched as he accidentally slammed a bottle of tequila a little too hard on the counter, too distracted by your presence.

"I don't know..." You said, stepping closer. "You can't even handle a bottle. What makes you think you can handle me?"

He leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "I can— when I'm drinking."

"That doesn't sound very fun." You teased, watching the way his eyes flickered down to your lips.

"It is fun." He said. "Especially with a pretty girl like you."

Your hand slid over his on the counter, fingers brushing against his skin as you lifted the bottle from under his touch. "Then why aren't we drinking?"

He paused for a second, watching you intently. "Why aren't we?"

"You're still hogging the bottle." You murmured.

For a moment, you were locked in a wordless gaze, one of those silences that say more than anything spoken. You held it, tested him with your eyes.

"Are you just gonna stare." You finally said. "Or are you gonna pour me a shot?"

He smiled and grabbed two glasses, pouring quickly.

"What are we cheering to?" He asked.

You smirked. "To wherever this night takes us."

He clinked his glass to yours. "Dangerous words."

You both downed the shots, the tequila burning its way down your throat. You didn't even shudder.

"Wow." He said, licking his lips. "You took that like a champ."

"I can take a lot." You replied, wiping the corner of your mouth and not looking away once.

"That so? He said, exhaling slowly, pausing for a second. "Then take another with me."

"Don't you wanna wait?" You asked, your voice hinting a bit of concern. 

"I thought you said you could take it." He challenged.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I guess I am."

You grabbed your glass, poured another, and tossed it back without blinking, and he followed right after. That turned into a third, then a fourth.

By now, your skin was buzzing, cheeks flushed with heat. The line between performance and reality blurred fast.

You talked about nothing— music, parties, stupid shit, other people you both barely knew, but everything had a spark to it. The way his gaze lingered when you laughed, the way his hand brushed your waist when reaching for more cups, the subtle way your knees touched.

"You dance?" He asked, stepping just slightly closer.

"Depends who's asking."

He gave that dangerous smile again. "You know who's asking."

You glanced at your phone, and still no text from Jaemin. Thirty minutes of flirtation— of temptation. You looked back up at Haechan, something electric passing between you.

You smirked. "Let's dance then."

The music pulsed around you as he led you out of the kitchen and into the crowd. The beat was dark, seductive, and you let yourself move to it, swaying your hips, letting the rhythm take you. His hands found your waist. You didn't stop him. His body pressed behind yours, chest to back, his lips brushing close to your ear every time he said something teasing.

His hand slid lower and you turned to face him, now chest to chest, bodies moving in sync.

He leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear. "You wanna go upstairs?"

You paused, swallowing hard. "Mmm... I don't know..."

He pulled back just enough to see your eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't want you to think I'm some kind of whore or something." You admitted, voice quieter now.

He blinked, then tilted his head, gaze softening just slightly. "Then let's not go upstairs."

You blinked at him, not responding.

He leaned closer again, voice husky. "Come here."

Before you could respond, he took your hand and led you down a dim hallway off the side of the living room, the noise of the party muffled behind you. It was quiet here, secluded . You were suddenly aware of how your pulse picked up.

He pushed you against the wall, hands bracing both sides of your head.

"This okay?" He asked.

You nodded slowly, heart racing and then his lips were on yours.

It was hot, insistent. His mouth moved like he already knew how you liked to be kissed— like you were meant to be tasted slowly, like his hands couldn't decide whether to cup your cheek or grip your hip tighter.

He pressed closer, lips trailing down your neck, his hand tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. You gasped, your body reacting faster than your brain could catch up.

And then your phone buzzed, twice.

You broke the kiss breathless, and fished it from your back pocket. Jaemin.

"Clear. Let's go."

You looked up at Haechan, his lips kiss bitten.

"Aw, I gotta go." You said softly, smiling while biting your lip.

He blinked, still catching his breath. "Seriously?"

You said nothing, just shrugged.

He smirked, eyes glinting. "You leaving now makes me want you more."

You backed away slowly, keeping eye contact as you fixed your shirt. "Good."

You turned, leaving him in the hallway, the taste of tequila still tingling on your lips. 

You met Jaemin at the front door just as he was coming down the porch steps, his hair slightly tousled, lips flushed, and a dazed kind of grin stretching across his face. His shirt was wrinkled, and he looked like he'd just barely remembered how to walk straight.

You raised an eyebrow, smoothing your own hair out with your fingers. "What took you so long?"

He laughed, wiping his mouth like he was still catching his breath. "Got caught up in the moment."

You rolled your eyes as you both started walking down the sidewalk, leaving the pulse of the party behind you.

"I've never seen you this messed up in person." He said, glancing at you. 

You just shrugged, before turning to him. "How was your night?"

"Fucking amazing." He said, letting out a blissed sigh. "She was... yeah, worth it."

You smirked. "I'm happy for you. Sounds like you had fun." 

He turned to look at you, a little more alert now. "What about you? How'd it go?"

You shrugged with a soft smile, brushing your fingers against your lips almost unconsciously. "It was... fun. He's fun and hot— too hot, honestly."

Jaemin groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. "Oh god, please don't tell me you slept with him."

You gave him a shove. "No, chill. He tried like you said he would, but I didn't. We just made out."

Jaemin gasped. "Y/n, you definitely have like, mono now."

You laughed, shoving him again. "He's not that bad."

"He's that bad." Jaemin said, shooting you a look. "How was he looking at you? It was probably like he was deciding how to ruin your life in the hottest way possible."

You gave a dreamy little sigh. "Yeah... I noticed."

Jaemin gasped. "Oh my god, you're into him."

"No I'm not." You tucked your hands into your jacket pocket, smiling to yourself. "He's just... magnetic. Like, he knows exactly what to say and exactly how to look at you when he says it."

"Uh huh, that's called manipulation." Jaemin said.

"I mean, maybe." You admitted. "But he was also weirdly... sweet? Like, he actually listened to me talk and he didn't push when I said no."

Jaemin raised a skeptical brow. "Ok, maybe a half point for consent, but let's not pretend this is some romance. You got lucky. I've seen girls fall for his type before, and they don't come out looking as cute as you do right now."

You gave a laugh. "I don't think I'm going back anyway. Not my scene."

"Good." Jaemin said with a little relief in his voice. "Because he's probably not gonna let you step foot at another party anyways because you rejected him. That boy's ego is fragile."

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Well, if I never plan on going back, it doesn't matter what he thinks of me."

Jaemin grinned. "And that's why I love you."

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He reached over and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a sideways hug as you walked. "Seriously, thank you. You saved my ass tonight."

"I know I did." You grinned, letting yourself lean into him for a second. "You owe me, like, five coffees and a weekend of doing whatever I want."

"Done." He said immediately. "As long as 'whatever you want' doesn't include throwing yourself at Haechan again."

You laughed. "He threw himself at me, thank you very much."

"Right, right." He said, laughing. "Just remember who's actually got your back when you get those 'u up?' texts at 2 AM."

You gave a smile, already hearing the echo of Haechan's voice in your head, the taste of tequila and heat still lingering on your lips.

"I won't forget." 

══════════════════════════

It had been about a week since the party, and life had mostly returned to normal. School, studying, sleep, repeat. But he kept showing up uninvited in the quiet moments between thoughts. The memory of his voice, the glint in his eyes, the way his hands felt when they slid around your waist like he'd done it a hundred times before. You hated how he stuck in your head.

Still, it was whatever. You weren't going to do anything about it. You had your routine, and it didn't include making out with cocky boys in back hallways at house parties.

You'd just wrapped up another cram session for your Thursday Bio test—highlighted notes and color coded flashcards spread across your desk, when you heard it. A familiar, echoing voice in the hallway.

"Y/n!"

You didn't even look up. "You never knock."

Jaemin burst into your room like he owned the place, arms wide, his signature grin already plastered on his face. "My beautiful Y/n, I have arrived."

You leaned back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. "I can see that."

He walked over to hug you, and you let him, even though you were still recovering from the mental strain of studying.

"You know." You mumbled as he pulled back. "One day you're going to bust in here and catch me changing or worse, touching myself."

"Even more reason to keep doing it." He smiled.

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually such a creep."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed it off, but then paused. His smile lingered familiarly, but you saw the hesitation flicker in his eyes.

You squinted. "What do you want, Jaemin?"

He gasped dramatically. "Y/n! I'm hurt, you think I only come here when I need something?"

You gave him a look, one he couldn't argue with.

"Ok, fine." He said. "But in my defense, we help each other equally."

"You mean I help you and you buy me coffee once a month?"

"Exactly." He grinned.

You sighed. "What is it this time?"

Jaemin scratched the back of his neck. "So, remember how you said you wouldn't go back to the party again?"

You blinked slowly. "Yeah..."

"Well, technically I'm not asking you to go for you. I'm asking on behalf of... well, her. His sister, she invited me again, practically begged— and I think we both know how that's gonna go."

He glanced at you cautiously.

"And you want me to keep Haechan busy again." You finished for him, leaning back in your chair.

"Look, I wouldn't need you to, but it'd be... really helpful." He said carefully. "I just need him not in the way, just for a little while."

Your brain flickered back to Haechan. His smirk, the way he made you feel both seen and exposed. The way he leaned in like he already knew what you'd do next. You told yourself you were over it, just a one time heat of the moment thing. But even now, something twisted in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

"Listen, I know you said you're not—"

"I'm down." You said, the words escaping before your brain caught up.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, sure. You need me, right?"

His eyes narrowed. "Wow you really like this guy."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just looking out for a friend."

Jaemin crossed his arms, fake pouting. "I don't know, I'm reconsidering this whole plan now. First he gets the girl I liked, now it's my best friend? I might need to keep you on lockdown."

You smirked. "Maybe that was my plan all along, you should just stay in."

"Nope." He said, pointing at you. "We're going, but this is the last time, I swear. And for real, don't do anything with him. Now I'm actually worried."

You held up your hands in surrender. "It's my job to distract, that's what I'm gonna do."

"I don't know if I trust you with that anymore." He shook his head, even though he smiled.

"You should." You said quietly.

He paused. "I'm teasing." He said after a minute. "I do. I guess."

You just smiled, the kind that said you already made your decision.

The house was louder this time. Packed tighter, music thumping harder, the kind of base that made your bones vibrate. You stood with Jaemin for a moment, eyes scanning the crowd.

You told yourself this was just a favor, a distraction like last time.

But as soon as you saw him— Haechan, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, sipping something from a red cup with that lazy grin on his face, all of that logic began to melt.

He looked even better than you remembered. Black hoodie, chain peeking from under the collar, dark hair slightly damp.

He spotted you instantly, his smirk curling as he straightened up.

You glanced over at Jaemin. "You owe me."

"I owe you my life." He said, already making a beeline toward the stairs. And just like that, you were alone, again... with him.

Haechan pushed off the counter and met you halfway.

"Well, well." He said, voice low. "Look who came back for seconds."

You tilted your head. "Maybe I'm just here for the drinks."

His eyes scanned you, slow and deliberate. "You look like trouble tonight."

You stepped in, closing the gap just enough to be suggestive. "You think I wasn't trouble last time?"

He laughed, licking his lips. "No, last time you were temptation. Tonight? I don't think I'll be able to behave."

You let yourself smile just a little.

"Try to." You said, smirking as you hit Haechan's shoulder, weaving through the crowd and heading straight to the kitchen. The music thumped through the walls, as you grabbed a bottle of tequila from off the counter.

"You're already hurting my feelings." Haechan said from behind you, his voice dipping just enough to graze your nerves in that playful, confident way.

"How's that?" You asked turning, only for him to close the gap between you. His arms casually caging you against the counter, hands resting just close enough to your hips.

"Drinking without me." He said, smoothly taking the bottle from your hand like it belonged to him.

You tilted your head. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"You should know. It's my party, after all." He replied, that teasing grin never leaving his face as he leaned in just enough to test the space between you.

"You're cocky." You gave him a playful shove, but didn't move far.

"I'm Haechan. Who are you? I never got your name last time."

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Kissing a girl and not even knowing her name? I've heard about you, you know... what you do to girls, the type of person you are."

That made him pause for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he held your gaze. "But you're still here, aren't you?"

You didn't reply, just smiled slowly, head tilting amused at his boldness.

"So." He leaned in again. "Are you gonna leave me alone, or tell me your name?"

"Y/n."

"Pretty." He said, the smile that followed unusually soft, like he actually meant it.

You eyed the bottle still in his hand. "Are you just gonna stand there and smile at me, or pour the damn shots?"

"I thought you'd never ask." He reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he grabbed two shot glasses. His cologne hit you, mixing with the alcohol and the buzz in your chest.

The tequila burned on the way down, but it made your limbs feel warm, relaxed.

"Is tequila your favorite?" He asked, eyes not leaving you.

You shook your head, setting the glass down. "Vodka mixed drinks. I don't like taking things straight."

He grinned at that, grabbing a red solo cup. He poured vodka, rum, and a splash of something creamy and white—the scent immediately familiar.

"Pina colada mixer?" You asked, brow raised.

"You seem like the type. Plus, you told me last time." He said with a smile.

"You remembered?"

"Of course. You're kinda hard to forget." He said, clinking his cup to yours before sipping.

You looked down for a second, smile slipping in without warning. "I really shouldn't be talking to you."

"Says who?"

"Myself, my conscience."

He shrugged. "You're a big girl, smart too. You know what you're doing. Just let go a little, everything doesn't have to be heavy all the time."

You gave him a playful side eye. "No?"

"Nope. If it was, it wouldn't be fun."

Before you could reply, someone passed by and handed him what looked like a vape.

"Fuck yes." Haechan muttered, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, the smoke curling out the side of his mouth.

He held it out. "Want a hit?"

"Nah, I don't vape."

He blinked a little surprised, then laughed. "Baby, this is a cart, not a vape."

"Oh." You giggled. "That makes sense. Smelled... different."

"So do you want it?" He asked again.

"I don't know, I don't really do drugs."

"It's just weed. It's chill— makes everything feel good." He said, his tone smooth, not pushy.

You hesitated, biting your lip.

"I'm not forcing you, but trust me— it's fine."

"...Okay, fine." You took the cart, cautiously bringing it to your lips and inhaling. It hit your lungs faster than you expected, making you cough, but after a few seconds you got used to it, taking a few more hits. Warmth spread through you, you felt light and weightless.

"Haechan." You murmured, blinking slowly, finishing the drink in your hand. "Let's dance."

He didn't argue. You pulled him onto the dance floor where bodies swayed and moved like one blur of motion, but you were only aware of him. His hands on your hips, guiding your movements. His breath brushing the curve of your neck. His mouth near enough to graze your ear when he laughed at something you said.

And then you kissed him.

You didn't think— your lips were on his, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he melted into it. The kind of kiss that made everything else disappear.

"How about we take this up to my room?" He whispered into your mouth, voice low.

"I told you I felt like—"

"You're not a whore." He cut in gently. "I want you. That doesn't make you anything except someone I want."

You hesitated for a second, the distant part of your brain catching up. "I don't know, my friend might come looking for me. He was supposed to—"

"He's not here right now." Haechan's voice was low and coaxing. "You're here, with me. You can make your own decisions."

You didn't answer,  just grabbed his hand and followed him upstairs.

You were halfway down the hallway, your heart fluttering, when you passed a room and the unmistakable sound of soft moaning filtered out from behind the closed door.

Haechan paused, head turning. "What the fuck?" He muttered, steps slowing.

Shit... Jaemin.

Before he could say anything more, you spun him to face you, grabbing his face urgently, your hands warm against his cheeks. His brows lifted in surprise.

"Focus on me." You whispered.

And then you kissed him again, deeper and slower this time. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies melted together. His hands found your waist again, but they didn't stop there, traveling up your sides, fingers over your bare skin as his mouth moved against yours with increasing hunger.

He backed you gently into the nearest wall, lips never leaving yours as the kiss deepened. Your back arched into his touch, your hands tugging at the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel more.

His mouth dragged from your lips down your jaw, kissing, teasing, then down your neck where he paused, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Room's this way." He murmured between kisses, and you followed him, half stumbling into his room, laughing softly as he shut the door behind you.

The moment it clicked shut, he was back on you, lips on your neck, hands guiding you toward the bed.

He pushed you down onto the bed, his body pressing against yours as he climbed on top. One hand slid roughly up your thigh, bunching your dress higher, never breaking contact with your neck as his mouth stayed hot against your skin.

His fingers played with the edge of your underwear for a moment, teasing, before pulling them down to your knees.

He paused then, lifting his head. His eyes met yours, and for just a second something shifted, uncertainty flickering across his face. He licked his lips like he was thinking, maybe even questioning, but before you could say anything, he lowered himself again, kissing a slow path down your body, lips soft against your thigh.

His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and steady, his hands holding your legs apart. Every movement felt like he wanted to make sure you felt everything— every kiss, every brush of his lips.

He glanced up at you once more, eyes darker now, the hesitation from before gone. Then he lowered his head again, his mouth finding the tender spot just above your knee, then higher. His fingers slid up your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth moved closer, teasing you.

You could feel your body tightening beneath him, breath catching in your throat as he finally reached your folds, his lips brushing against your clit, gentle at first.

Then he gave in completely, his mouth working you with focus, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

His tongue slid over you as he teased you with soft flicks and gentle pressure, each movement sending a wave of heat through your body. Your hips shifted under his touch, instinctively searching for more, but he held you steady, his grip firm on your thighs.

He looked up at you again, eyes heavy, mouth glistening. Then he dove back in, hungrier this time, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling, pressing. The sounds he made vibrated against you, adding to the overwhelming sensation building fast inside you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, needing something to hold onto as he drove you higher. He responded to every twitch, every gasp, adjusting his pace, his pressure, as if he could read exactly what your body craved.

Then he slid one finger inside you slowly, deeply, curling just right. The rhythm of his hand and mouth worked in perfect sync, pulling you closer to the edge with each passing second.

That's when your phone buzzed, the vibration low, but sharp against the haze in your mind. Your eyes blinked open, lashes heavy as you glanced down. A message lit up the screen.

Jaemin [1:35 AM]:

"I'm ready. Meet me outside."

"Ignore it." Haechan murmured against your thigh, voice deep and muffled. His lips brushed warm against your skin, but your eyes stayed on the message.

"Mmm... I have to go." You said, sitting up slowly, the daze of alcohol and drug weighing your limbs.

"What?" He asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips still wet.

You smiled, pushing hair from your face as you stood fully. "Leaving you on a cliffhanger again."

"You're evil." He smirked lazily.

"Mm, bite me." You teased with a wink, turning for the door.

"Wait." He cut through.

You paused, glancing back over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"Can I at least get your number or something?"

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips. "Where's the fun in that?"

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut behind you. Haechan just smiled to himself, letting out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable."

Outside, the cool air hit your flushed cheeks as you stumbled into the night, spotting Jaemin.

"There she is." He grinned. "Somebody's fucked."

"You are too, shut up." You giggled, smacking his chest lightly.

"Nah, just you. I'm only a little bit drunk." He gave you that smug, crooked smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You muttered with a grin, stumbling into him slightly.

His arm came around your shoulders without thinking steadying you, but then he stopped, glancing at your face more closely, his smile fading.

"Y/n." He said slowly. "Are you... high?"

You paused, lips parting like you hadn't even thought to lie. "Maybe." You giggled.

Jaemin stared at you, concern overtaking every line of his face. "You never do that shit... you barely drink anymore— what the hell happened?"

"Relax, Jaem. It was just weed, a few hits. I'm fine."

"You could've had a bad trip." He said, eyes narrowing. "Or what if it was laced? You don't know who the fuck gave you that. You don't know what could've happened—"

"Can you chill?" You said, laughing. "You sound like my parent."

"That's what I gotta be when you do stupid shit like this." His voice dropped, rough with something deeper. "I just... I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

You smiled. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Alright. I'm staying at your place tonight."

"Damn, thanks for asking."

He gave you a look and just giggled again.

When you got home, your shoes hit the floor one by one as you peeled off your jacket, then the thin dress that clung to your skin. You collapsed face first into your bed in only your bra and underwear, the sheets cool against your flushed skin.

Jaemin followed behind. He dropped into your desk chair with a heavy exhale, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it aside. He leaned back, phone in hand, scrolling casually.

"You look good in this lighting." You said, voice smooth and thick as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

He looked up at you over his screen, lips quirking. "You're really saying that right now?"

"Mmhmm." You let your eyes drag down his figure slowly. "You've always been pretty Jaemin."

He laughed under his breath, glancing back at his phone, but not before you caught the slight flush in his cheeks.

You sat up more, letting your legs dangle over the side of the bed, posture relaxed, but eyes sharp with mischief.

"Come here." You said.

He raised an eyebrow. "To the bed?"

"Yeah, just wanna be close."

He hesitated for half a moment before standing. "You're so high." He muttered with a smirk, making his way over. He sat beside you, hands propped behind him on the mattress.

You leaned into him, fingers brushing up his arm softly. "You smell good." You murmured, eyes locked on his lips.

"Do I?" He asked, amusement threading through his voice.

"You always do." Your fingers trailed over his chest now, dragging down to his stomach. His muscles tightened slightly beneath your touch, but he didn't stop you. "And your skin's soft..."

Jaemin watched you, breath slower now. "You're really flirting with me right now?"

"I'm not flirting." You said, tone quiet. "I'm appreciating."

Your lips ghosted along his jaw, then lower to the curve of his neck. He tilted his head slightly, allowing the contact. You kissed him there— slowly, sensual, your lips lingering just a second too long.

He swallowed hard.

"I know you like it." You whispered.

His hand slid instinctively to your thigh, gripping gently as your lips traced down the side of his throat. He leaned into it, breathing deep through his nose.

But then—

"Wait." He said suddenly, pulling back. "I can't."

You blinked, stunned by the shift. "Why not?" You asked, voice low as you stared up at him.

"You're my best friend." He said, the words stuttering off his tongue.

"Oh, but when you ask to fuck me it's a different story?"

"It is." He said.

"Mmm, really?" You smirked, sliding your hand up his torso again, fingers trailing.

"Yes." He said firmly. "You're not sober and you don't actually want me right now, you're just under the influence... as fuck."

"I always want you." You said, eyes locked on his.

He sighed, the tension in his body slowly fading into something softer. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against him gently, tucking you under his chin.

"Please go to sleep, Y/n. I'm right here, just rest."

And... you listened. Eyes fluttering closed, breath slowing as the world dimmed into his warmth.

══════════════════════════

Your eyes fluttered open, vision blurry and head pounding. The sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains. You slowly sat up, blinking against the ache throbbing in your skull.

Jaemin was sprawled next to you on top of the blankets, one leg stretched over the edge of the bed, scrolling casually through his phone. 

He glanced over. "Relax, it's just me." He said, offering a small smile.

You exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples with your fingers. A sharp pain spiked behind your eyes, a groan escaping your lips as you reached for your head.

"Here." Jaemin said, reaching down for a plastic bag on the floor. "I got you some water, some food, and Advil— for your headache." He set it on the bed beside you. 

"How'd you know I have a headache?" You asked, unscrewing the cap of the water and popping the pills into your mouth.

"Jesus, Y/n." He scoffed, sitting up straighter. "You were shit faced last night, obviously you're gonna have a hangover."

"Right." You said with a smile. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Yeah, of course." He returned the smile briefly, his attention sliding back to his phone.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn't entirely comfortable. Your brain was still catching up to reality, glimpses of last night flickering through your mind in half lit flashes. Laughter, music, moaning in the hallway. Haechan, and Jaemin... your heart beat a little harder at that last part.

"Hey..." You started cautiously. "Did we—" You hesitated. "We didn't do anything, did we?"

He chuckled, but didn't answer right away. The silence stretched a second too long, just enough to make your stomach flip.

"You tried." He said finally, his voice was calm, almost amused, but the words made your chest tighten. "But I stopped it, and you went to sleep— so, all clear." He gave you a lazy smile.

"Phew." You exhaled, falling back onto your pillow in relief.

"Damn." He teased, raising a brow. "Am I that bad?"

"No, no." You said quickly, laughing. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"All good over here, you don't." He replied, eyes flickering back to his phone.

You shook your head, grinning. "Damn, I'm such a horny freak."

"I see how you get when you're drunk... and high." He added, glancing over at you, disappointment flickering in his gaze.

"Stop, Jaemin." You groaned, pushing his shoulder playfully.

"I'm still disappointed about that." He said, his voice a little firmer. "You need to be more careful. That's the last time you're going there ever again."

"You can't tell me what to do." You teased, lips quirking into a smile.

"Ahh, I guess I can't." He said dramatically, reaching over and grabbing the bag of food.

"Stop, give it." You laughed, stretching across him to snatch it back. Your fingers brushed against his hand, and your eyes caught his for a long, silent moment.

Your voice softened. "You know... I'm seriously grateful that you take care of me when I need it."

He blinked, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. Now can you eat?"

You nodded, finally opening the container and taking a bite of food. "I almost accidentally got you caught, but I saved it." You said between bites, your voice cheeky.

"How, come?" He asked, only half listening as he scrolled.

"We came upstairs and we heard moaning." You said with a grin. "I'm guessing your party."

"You came upstairs to do what?" He looked up sharply now, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You didn't respond, just smiled to yourself as you continued chewing.

"Did you fuck him?" He asked suddenly, sitting up straighter, eyes locked on yours.

"No, no." You answered quickly. "He just gave me head." Your voice was quieter now, but the confession hung in the air.

"He gave you head?" Jaemin blinked, dumbfounded. "YOU?" He repeated. "And he didn't get anything else from you? No sex, no head, not even a handjob?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Dude, he never does that... ever." He looked like he was short circuiting. "What's up with these guys just giving you head man? I'm impressed."

"First off, it only happened once before, so don't do that, and you know we don't talk about him, ok?" You said in a on edge voice.

"Ok, ok." He held up his hands in surrender.

"I guess I just gave the magic touch." You said with a smug smile.

"Damn, me next!" He cheered jokingly, grinning.

"Shit, maybe." You said with a smirk. "Haechan didn't even make me finish— well, because we were interrupted by someone." You shot him a playful look.

"Aw shucks." He said, chuckling. "Jaemin here to crash the party always."

"Partially." You replied. "I think he's not done with me though. Before I left, he asked for my number."

"He asked for your number— like, first? While you were leaving him?" Jaemin exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yep." You said.

"Did you give it to him?" He asked, leaning in like a gossipy teen.

"Nah. I don't think that's someone I should have access to at all times— for my own safety you know." You said, giggling. 

"You're so smart, that's why I love you so, so much." He said with a bright smile... before it faltered slightly.

"I'm not smart for not giving him my number. I'm just not dumb." You said, brushing off the moment.

He recovered with a quick grin. "Maybe you aren't as bright as I thought, because that is the same thing."

"Shut up." You laughed, nudging his shoulder. 

"Damn, I actually can't believe he did all this for you." Jaemin said, eyes wide again. "Nothing wrong with you of course, but he just— never acts that way with anyone. You might be his soulmate."

"Ew, shut up. Yes he's hot, but I could never imagine dating someone like him." You said, scrunching your nose.

"Good, because I doubt you're welcomed at any more parties after the double rejection you gave him." He said with a laugh.

"Didn't you say that the last time?" 

"Yeah, but I mean it this time. You rejected him like four times."

"Okay, enough Haechan talk." You set the now empty container aside and leaned back. "I appreciate everything, but you should get going to freshen up. Plus, I have class in like an hour."

"You're still going?" He asked, brows raising.

"Absolutely, I'd never miss class."

"Okay, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant. "Do you think we can meet up for dinner later?"

You paused, your tone shifting gently. "I think I need to be alone right now. I also have a project due on Tuesday that I'm cramming for because I got a little lazy. Let's meet... maybe Wednesday?"

He nodded. "Sounds good." With one last smile he stood up, grabbing his hoodie off the chair and slipping it on.

══════════════════════════

It was finally Wednesday, after days of cramming, sleepless nights, you had just submitted your project and shut your laptop with a dramatic sigh of relief. You sprawled out on your bed for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, the weight of the past few days slowly lifting off your shoulders.

The front door creaked open and slammed shut again, followed by the familiar shuffle of sneakers on hardwood.

"Yo." He called out, stepping into your room with a plastic takeout bag in hand.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, noticing something was off immediately. His voice lacked its usual playful energy. No cheeky grin, no snarky comment about your workaholic tendencies, just... a weird kind of stillness in his tone.

"What's up?" You asked, brows furrowing slightly at his hesitance.

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before meeting your gaze again. "I need you to come to the party with me again."

You blinked, half in disbelief. "Again?" You let out a soft giggle, sitting up fully. "Weren't you the one who banned me from that place like... twice?"

"Yeah, I know." He said with a sigh, plopping down beside you on the bed and setting the takeout between you. "But you're the only one who can distract Haechan well it appears, and fuck, that girl is so—"

He stopped himself mid sentence, biting his tongue. You stared at him, your smile fading slightly. He was always joking— even when things were serious, but right now he looked more anxious than amused.

"Right." You said slowly, nodding as you studied his face. You didn't press it— whatever that girl meant, you could guess, and it wasn't your place to dig.

"So... will you?" He asked again, voice low.

You hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

His shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the smallest hint of a smile broke through. "You're a lifesaver."

You reached into the takeout bag, pulling out your container with a soft smirk. "You owe me something good for this."

"Oh, I got you extra fries." He said quickly, handing the container toward you like it was a peace offering.

You rolled your eyes. "Bribery works I guess."

══════════════════════════

The party was already fill by the time you and Jaemin arrived per usual. As soon as you stepped inside, Jaemin melted into the crowd like a ghost.

You didn't even bother calling after him. You just sighed, brushing past a couple making out near the stairs as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a drink.

The fridge was wide open, someone rummaging through it carelessly. You reached past them for a can of something and cracked it open, sipping without thinking.

"Is this gonna be a pattern?" A familiar voice teased from behind you.

You turned, already knowing who it was, of course.

There he stood, eyes on you like you were the only person in the room. His head tilted just slightly, like he was already amused.

You crossed your arms and let out a short sigh. "Is what a pattern?"

"You drinking without me." He said smoothly.

You shook your head, watching as he took a sip from his own cup. "You're drinking without me too, so I'm not sure that makes sense."

"Just casually." He grinned, his voice light. "Take a shot with me."

You eyed him for a second, then gave a small nod. He reached over to the counter, pouring two uneven shots, one for each of you.

You raised yours with a quiet "cheers" before knocking it back. The alcohol settled in your stomach, hot and quick.

"You know I'm not doing anything with you, right?" You said once the warmth hit your chest.

He raised a brow, grin widening. "Did I ask?"

You huffed a soft laugh, unable to hide the way your lips curved despite your better judgment and his smirk deepened like he won something.

"It's loud in here, come outside with me." He said, already reaching for the bottle again, refilling both your cups without waiting for an answer.

You hesitated, something in you buzzing—nerves or excitement, you weren't sure, but you nodded anyway.

Outside, the backyard was a complete contrast to the chaos inside. Quieter, almost peaceful. Blue and purple led lights in the pool, casting a neon glow in the water. The heat of the night clung to your skin, but the moment you dipped your feet into the cool pool, relief washed over you.

He sat beside you, pulling a pre rolled blunt from his pocket and lit it with a flick of a lighter. For a second, the flame highlighted his face, features softened by the glow.

"How are you?" He asked, voice quieter now. "How was your week?"

You turned to him, blinking. "You actually care? Wow, that's new."

"You're so negative." He said, exhaling smoke before offering it to you.

You stared at it for a moment, fingers twitching slightly. Then you took it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling slow. You held it for a second before letting it go with a sigh.

"I'm cautious." You murmured, passing it back.

"Mmm." He hummed, nodding, puffing again. 

"Why do you never disagree? Defend yourself when people say shit about you?" You questioned, turning to him. 

"Because it's true. I'm not afraid to admit it." He said, exhaling slowly. "But sometimes people talk and over exaggerate, make it seem like I'm just heartless. If they're scared and stay away, that's their problem. But if they know what they're getting into— or think they do, then why should I waste my energy proving them wrong? In my eyes, they're just as fucked up as me."

You were quiet for a moment, then nodded slightly in agreement. He passed the blunt again, and you took two more puffs in silence. It wasn't awkward, just still.

"So." You eventually said, eyes drifting to the lit up pool. "How do you have such a big house as a college student?"

"My parents." He replied, tone casual. "They pay for everything while they go prance around in different countries, leaving me and my siblings behind."

"Siblings?" You echoed, surprised. You knew he had a sister, but hadn't heard anything about more.

"Yep. A younger sister and brother." He said, taking another hit. "My sister's a junior, doesn't live with me, but I keep a guest room here for when she wants a break from her roommates."

"And your brother?"

"He's a sophomore, goes to college a few hours from here— said he wanted a fresh start. I still check in with him a few times a week. He's had his ups and downs, but he's a good kid."

"I get that." You said. "I went somewhere else freshman year too. Only stayed for a year before transferring back here this year."

"So you are a sophomore." He said, nodding. "I figured."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He only shrugged, sipping his drink.

"What's your story?" He asked, glancing over. "Why'd you want a fresh start?"

"My mom died about two years ago." You said, the words escaping before you could filter them.

His face shifted. "Oh shit, I'm sorry."

"It's good." You said quickly, brushing it off. "It's actually kind of stupid, out of all the drugs, she died from weed. It was laced."

"Damn." He muttered. "Is that why you were so hesitant earlier?"

You nodded. "Yeah. People don't realize how terrifying it is, it's real."

"Fuck, now I feel like an asshole." He said, running a hand through his hair, a tired chuckle leaving his mouth as he put the blunt out.

"Don't." You told him. "You gotta grow up and not be scared sometimes. Plus, I can make my own decisions."

There was a pause before you added with a lazy smile, "I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"What— because I'm 'evil'?" He teased, one brow rising.

You laughed. "No. Because you're a stranger."

He leaned back dramatically. "Wow, you kissed a stranger. What did you say? Whore."

"Oh, shut up." You rolled your eyes. "I guess you're not too much of a stranger."

"Exactly." He grinned. "But sometimes you just need someone to be there for you, stranger or not."

His eyes lingered on you now, more serious than before. "But... we don't have to stay strangers— I don't think we should."

You raised a brow.

"Just give me your number." He said, voice softer.

You squinted at him, half amused. "Is that what this was all about?"

"No." He said quickly, then paused. "I just... you're different and I'm curious about you."

"Curiosity." You said, rolling your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" He leaned a little closer. "We should just mess around, find out more about each other. You must be curious too?"

You stared at him for a second, lips pressing into a tight line. "I'm not."

"Ouch." He laughed, not entirely believing you, but to his credit, he didn't push.

You paused, then let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll give you my number."

His grin widened as he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you.

"Thank you." He said genuinely.

"Maybe now we don't have to only talk to each other on Thursdays." You said, punching in your digits and handing it back.

"Mmm." He smiled, his gaze lingering on you.

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a text.

Jaemin [12:58 AM]:

"Let's go."

You looked up, Haechan already watching you.

"Well, I've got to go." You said, standing and brushing off your skirt.

"Is there a night where you're not gonna leave me?" He asked, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at you.

"Mm... don't hold your breath." You smirked, waving before slipping back inside.

Jaemin was waiting by the door, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Well, well." He said as you approached. "What did you do tonight?"

"My job." You said with a giggle, eyes slightly hooded from the buzz in your system.

"Oh, you're high again?" His smile faded just a bit.

"Yeah, not a big deal." You said, casually hooking your arm around his like it was second nature.

"Right, and I can't even stay with you tonight."

"Why not?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Because you can't control yourself under the influence." He said bluntly.

"Wow, don't say that." You laughed. "I'm not even that fucked up, I could totally control myself."

"Right." He smirked. "But I probably can't."

"Yeah... maybe you shouldn't stay with me tonight then." You teased.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as the two of you disappeared into the night.

══════════════════════════

Saturday | 11:37 PM

You were curled up in bed, knees tucked beneath you, your laptop warming your thighs as the glow of the screen illuminated your face. The essay you've been chipping away at all day was only half done, and your focus was slipping fast. You already reread the same paragraph three times when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Unknown Number [11:37 PM]:

"Come over. Chill for a bit."

Your brow furrowed as you set your laptop aside and picked up the phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

You [11:37 PM]:

"Who is this?"

You already had a guess, but you weren't about to make it easy.

A few seconds passed.

Unknown Number [11:38 PM]:

"You know who it is."

You let out a quiet scoff, one corner of your mouth curling into a smirk, of course it was him.

You [11:39 PM]:

"Mmm, no I don't. So I guess that's a no."

Another pause, longer this time.

Unknown Number [11:40 PM]:

"Come over. Please."

Your thumb hovered again. You should've just gone back to your work, should've tossed your phone aside and shut the whole thing down. 

You [11:41 PM]:

"I seriously can't, busy rn."

Unknown Number [11:41 PM]:

"Bummer."

You stared at the message, your bedroom suddenly too quiet. The flicker of curiosity and something else sat in your chest.

You [11:42 PM]:

"You can come over later though. We could watch a movie or something."

His response was fast.

Unknown Number [11:42 PM]:

"Later? It's already 11."

You [11:43 PM]:

"Ok, then don't."

Silence. Then...

Unknown Number [11:44 PM]:

Send the address.

You hesitated, biting your lip for a minute too long. Then you dropped a pin and hit send.

1:27 AM

You opened the door, blinking against the cooler air spilling into the hallway. Haechan stood there, hair tousled, a six pack of drinks in one hand and a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Didn't think you'd actually send it." He said, stepping inside without waiting.

"Didn't think you'd actually come." You replied, locking the door behind him.

"We're just sitting in the living room." You said, already making your way towards the couch.

"Perfect." He said, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the armrest as he followed.

You pulled up something half decent on Netflix, something neither of you would end up watching, and settled in. He handed you a drink, and you clinked your cans together quietly.

He was the first to speak.

"How've you been? Since Thursday." He asked, voice soft, watching you from the side.

You took a slow sip, eyes on the screen. "Busy. Regretting life decisions."

He chuckled, amused. "Yeah, which ones?"

"Letting you text me."

A grin tugged at his mouth as he leaned back, one arm draping lazily along the back of the couch. "You're the one who invited me, sweetheart."

"You begged."

"I don't beg."

You gave him a look. "You literally said please."

"I'm just a convincer." He shot back smoothly.

"Manipulator." You corrected with a smile.

He laughed again, reaching into his pocket. "Mind if I hit this?"

You glanced at the sleek cart between his fingers, then at the hallway.

"Even though my roommates aren't here, they're still strict about smoking in shared spaces." You said. "No vape, no carts— none of it."

He blinked, pausing. "Damn. I can go if—"

"No." You interrupted, standing. "We can go to my room."

His eyebrows arched in interest as he rose to follow.

Your room was dim and cozy, washed in soft fairy lights. You pushed the door closed behind him and leaned against it for a moment before crossing to the bed.

"This is cute." He said, looking around. "You always have a vibe."

"Try not to ruin it." You said, climbing onto the bed and settling into the pillows. He leaned against your desk, then raised the cart again and took a slow pull, the scent hitting your nose.

"You want?" He asked.

You rose from the bed, stepping toward him and plucked it from his fingers without breaking eye contact.

His brows lifted. "Woah."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't be selfish now."

He smirked, but his voice dropped just slightly as he teased, "What if it's laced?"

"Not funny." You said.

He held his hands up, surrendering, though his grin said he enjoyed every second.

You took a slow puff and handed it back.

"That's all I'm doing." You murmured.

But that wasn't true.

Time slipped, the air thickened, you kept passing it back and forth, voices growing lower, laughter softening.

At some point, you looked up and noticed he was still standing.

"You've been standing there whole time." You said, eyes a little glassy, lashes fluttering as you sat up straighter.

"Yeah, I know. Why?" He asked, inching closer.

"Just curious why you don't want to be near me." You said with a teasing shrug.

He stepped in front of you now, close enough that you could see the shift in his expression. "I'm near." He murmured.

"Not close enough." Your voice was soft but firm as you reached out, trailing your hands up his arm and guiding it onto your shoulder.

His fingers stayed, curling gently over your skin. His gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up.

"Don't look at me like that." He said, eyes low. 

"Like what?" You asked, guiding his arm again until his hand cupped your jaw.

"Like you want me to ruin the night."

His hand lingered against your cheek, the warmth of his palm spreading through your skin. Your breath hitched, fingers curling softly around his wrist.

You tugged him closer, his face now just inches from yours as he leaned over you, one hand settling on your thigh. "Maybe I do."

He closed the distance between you instantly, his lips crashing against yours with desperately. The hand that had been gently cupping your cheek slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, gripping it tightly as you tugged, urging him to shed the barrier between you. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His sweats hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his v-line.

He climbed fully onto the bed, hovering over you, claiming your lips in a heated, breathless kiss. His hands moved, tugging your shirt and pajama shorts off in one swift motion, never once breaking eye contact, the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss— wet and messy. As his mouth moved against yours, he nudged your legs apart with his own, his knee slipping between them, pressing softly against your heat.

His lips left yours only to travel down your neck, trailing gentle kisses that quickly turned rougher. He latched onto a sensitive spot just below your jaw, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation paired with the slow pressure of his knee drew soft moans from your lips. Your fingers found his hair, tangling in it as your hips shifted unconsciously in response.

"I don't have a condom." He murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You were just about to leave it, but Jaemin's voice sounded in your head: "Don't let him fuck you raw." 

Without thinking, you reached over to your nightstand, fingers finding the familiar shape of a silver foil square that you got a few weeks back. You pressed it to his chest, your eyes meeting his.

He paused, a slow amused smile spreading across his lips. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Smart." He said under his breath.

He rose to his feet, pushing his sweats and boxers down in one fluid motion. Tearing the foil open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper carelessly onto the floor, then rolled the condom on with ease, his eyes never straying far from you.

He grabbed your legs with firm hands, dragging you to the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours intensely. Without a word, he hooked his fingers into your underwear and yanked them down, leaving you bare beneath him.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. His mouth moved over yours, but as you pulled back your eyes shimmered.

"I haven't— this is my first time." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper, breathless and shaking.

For a moment everything stilled. His expression shifted, something flickering behind his eyes— part surprise, part fascination. 

"I'll try to be gentle." He said softly, his voice low and tight with restraint.

He stood, hands skimming down the length of your legs until they reached beneath your knees. He lifted them slowly, spreading you open softly.

He positioned himself between your legs, his body tense. He paused, eyes locked on yours for a moment, as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

Then he pushed into you. The sting was sharp, and you gasped, your breath catching. He froze for a second, his forehead pressing lightly against yours.

"Breathe." He whispered, his voice rough. He gave you a moment, just enough to adjust before he asked, "Ok?"

You nodded, too breathless to say anything, but when you didn't pull away he pushed further, the pace picking up as he moved into you again, harder and deeper this time.

He gripped your legs tightly, forcing you open as he thrusted into you, his movements rougher now, more desperate. The initial sting quickly faded into a pulsing heat that had you gasping with every thrust, each push a little harder than the last.

"You feel so fucking good." He muttered, voice thick with desire. His hands tightened on your legs, and he slammed into you with more urgency, his pace picking up, rougher and less controlled. The air was thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, the room vibrating.

The tension in your body kept building, the pleasure mixing with the intensity of each thrust. His breath was uneven and shallow as he moved faster, harder, his grip tightening. There was no slowing down now.

"Fuck." He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic, less restrained. "So fucking perfect."

The care he showed earlier was gone. His pace didn't slow, only grew faster, more frantic. Each thrust hit deeper, more forceful, and you could feel every inch of him filling you completely. You clung to him, nails digging into his skin as he fucked into you without restraint.

The sounds of your bodies crashing together filled the air, a mix of moans, heavy breathing, and the wet, slick noise of each push. He didn't give you time to adjust, didn't pause to check in again. He just kept going, his grip tightening on your legs, forcing them open even wider as he moved harder.

The pleasure was building, overwhelming you, the pressure mounting with every thrust. Your body felt like it was on fire, heat pooling low in your stomach as his thrusts drove you closer to the edge.

"You like that, huh?" He groaned, his voice rough. His eyes flickered down to where you were joined, watching how he moved inside you. "You're so fucking tight."

You couldn't form words anymore, only moans escaping your lips as your hips instinctively moved against him, meeting each thrust, urging him deeper. Every motion felt like a jolt of electricity running through you, tightening your core, making everything spin.

His hand slid down from your legs, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, driving into you with more force. The friction built, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"God, I'm gonna make you cum." He grunted, his own pace stammering just slightly as his own release neared. "Hold on."

His hips snapped into yours recklessly, his movements growing more urgent. His grip on your waist tightened as he pounded into you, each thrust harder than the last, the sound of your skin meeting his filling the room.

"You feel fucking amazing." He whimpered, his voice strained, the force of his movements making your whole body shake beneath him.

He cursed under his breath as your nails scraped down his back, and with one last, brutal thrust, you felt everything snap—your body tensing, your legs trembling as the pressure exploded inside you. A loud, breathless moan escaped your lips as your orgasm ripped through you, your whole body convulsing around him.

He didn't stop though, didn't give you a second to breathe. His thrusts only grew more erratic, chasing his own release as you clenched around him, each movement pushing him closer to the edge.

"Fuck, yes." He groaned, his eyes locked onto yours as he slammed into you again. 

"I'm there..." He buried his face into your neck, movements sloppy as he finally came, his body shaking as he released with a low groan.

He collapsed against you, his body still trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment neither of you moved, lying there tangled together, trying to catch your breath. His head rested on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling against yours. The tension in his muscles slowly started to melt away, and you felt the steady rhythm of his heart begin to slow.

He shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze softer now. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, unable to find the words just yet. He gave a small smile. "I didn't mean to... push too hard."

You shook your head, pressing your palm to his chest. "It was... good." You whispered, your voice still shaky, but calm now.

"Good." He murmured again.

══════════════════════════

The day after – 1:18 PM

You woke up to loud, insistent banging on your door.

You blinked your eyes open, lashes heavy with sleep, your body sore and aching in ways that immediately brought back hazy memories of the night before. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, and the screen lit up— four unread messages, all from Jaemin.

Jaemin [12:38 PM]:

"u want chicken tenders or a burger?"

Jaemin [12:44 PM]: 

"Hello? I need u to hurry I'm in line."

Jaemin [12:57 PM]:

"Just got chicken tenders u took too long, otw."

Jaemin [1:17 PM]:

"Dude, open the door wtf?"

Your stomach dropped... shit.

It was Sunday, your Sunday. Movies and lunch with Jaemin, your thing since middle school, the one routine neither of you ever skipped and was always on time for.

You sat up too quickly and instantly regretted it. A sharp pulse radiated through your thighs, your knees folded slightly beneath you as you stood. You hissed through your teeth, muttering a quiet curse. The soreness, the silence in the room, the disheveled sheets tangled behind you and...

No Haechan, not a trace.

You probably weren't going to hear from him again. If anything, he'd gotten exactly what he wanted and maybe... so had you.

You slipped into the first pair of underwear you could find, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and not even checking the mirror. You couldn't be bothered. Your body felt heavier than usual, limbs slow, mind foggy.

You stumbled to the door, fingers fumbling over the lock before it clicked open. Jaemin stood there with a takeout bag in one hand and annoyance on his face. "Where the fuck—" He froze. 

His expression shifted fast, first frustration then concern as his eyes scanned your face, your hair, the obvious haze of sleep in your eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nodded once, voice scratchy. "Yeah. Just... come in."

You turned around, not realizing how stiffly you were walking until you heard his voice again behind you.

"You're walking weird."

You glanced over your shoulder, trying to play it off. "I just woke up, Jaem."

But his brows drew together, and he followed you with quiet suspicion. He spun once in your desk chair before planting his feet and letting his eyes roam, and stopped.

You didn't notice at first, but his gaze lingered just a little too long on your neck.

"Those weren't there last time I saw you." He said. 

You forced a small laugh, brushing your hair back casually. "What, you keeping track now?"

"It's hard not to when it looks like someone marked you up like a vampire." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

You turned away, cheeks flushing, but you stayed silent.

He held up the takeout bag. "I got you food, don't know if you saw my text."

"I didn't." You said, hovering at the edge of your bed. "But thanks, I'm starving."

He smiled for real this time, but just as he reached to hand you the bag something on the floor caught his attention.

His hand froze mid air. He bent slightly, reaching down beside your nightstand. A second later, you watched his fingers close around a small, crinkled square of foil.

An empty condom wrapper.

He stared at it, his jaw twitching once before he tossed it into the trash without another word.

The air in the room changed instantly. You stood still, frozen as he looked at you.

You tried to lighten the mood, your voice forced. "The one you gave me, remember?"

But he didn't smile, didn't even blink. His voice dropped, almost too calm. "Did you...?"

You hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah. Last night."

He blinked once, and then again. He opened his mouth, but for a second, no sound came out. "Thought you were saving yourself."

You gave a slight shrug, arms folding across your chest. "Guess I changed my mind."

Another moment of silence. He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips now, confused. "Who was the lucky guy?"

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip.

His eyes narrowed before he scoffed. "I know that face... no way."

Still, you said nothing.

He let out a short, stunned laugh, humorless. "No fucking way." Jaemin stood up, the desk chair creaking loudly behind him.

You met his gaze, heart thudding. "Jaem—"

"You let him?" His voice rose, disbelief mixed with something else— hurt, maybe. "Out of all people, him? Seriously? What, he texted you 'come over' and you just—fucking hell Y/n."

"It wasn't like that." You murmured.

"You ghost me for hours, you never miss our Sundays. I show up and you're sore and covered in hickeys—"

"I was asleep, Jaemin."

He scoffed. "Name one time you've ever slept past noon this year?"

You stayed silent.

"Exactly."

"I didn't plan for it to happen." You said quietly.

"That's the problem... he did!" He snapped. "I didn't think you were so easy. What, he called you pretty and that's enough for you to spread your legs?"

"No, I—"

"What, you've known this guy for like a month? You knew he just wanted to use you and you went along with it?"

"I was okay with that! That's what I wanted."

"You were okay being used for sex by some guy you barely even know?"

"No, not like that—"

"So then what? Because to me, it sounds like you're just a desperate slut."

You blinked. That word hit harder than you expected.

"Oh, I'm a slut?" Your voice was sharp now. "One body and I'm a slut, yet you dance around fucking anything with a pulse. You're disgusting... and easy."

"I'm disgusting and easy?" He snapped. "You let a senior fuckboy you don't even know take your virginity. It's actually sickening."

You stepped toward him, jaw clenched. "Would it have been sickening if it was you?"

Silence. His face froze, jaw locked as his eyes flickered, and he didn't say a word.

You let out a breath. "If you're so disgusted, then leave. First of all, it's none of your business who I sleep with— I don't stick my nose into yours. You've fucked girls I can't stand, and I never made it everyone's problem."

Your voice rose now. "You're my best friend— not my parent, not my boyfriend, and definitely not my mentor. So if you came here to judge me on every move I make, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Excuse me for being the only one that fucking cares about you."

You opened your mouth, but he was already tossing the takeout bag onto your bed with more force than necessary.

"Here." He muttered. "Since he couldn't even feed you."

Then he turned and the door slammed behind him.

The silence that followed felt like a vacuum, like the air had been sucked out of the room the moment the door slammed shut.

You stood there, unmoving, arms still crossed tightly around yourself. Your chest rose and fell a little too fast, like your body hadn't caught up to your brain yet.

"Desperate slut."

You could still hear it. Loud in the quiet and it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

You sank down slowly to the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the takeout bag he'd thrown toward you. You let out a shaky breath and dropped your head into your hands.

He'd looked so angry, so betrayed, like you done something personally to him. But he wasn't your boyfriend, he never was, he never wanted to be.

So why did he get to act like this? Why did it feel like you were the one who done something wrong? You hadn't expected Haechan to stay. You hadn't expected Jaemin to explode and yet here you were, alone.

He was supposed to be your best friend.

But best friends didn't call you disgusting. Best friends didn't throw insults in your face and storm out. Best friends didn't look at you like you were less for doing something you had every right to do.

You didn't even realize you were crying until the tears hit your thighs. Silent, hot, and angry.

You swiped at them roughly, jaw tightening.

He didn't get to reduce you like that. He didn't get to decide what your choices meant, and he definitely didn't get to pretend like he was some kind of savior when all he'd ever done was hover just close enough to make you want more and then pull away every time you reached.

Some part of you still wanted him to come back. Still wanted him to knock again, to take it all back and say he was sorry.

But another part of you was done waiting on Jaemin to treat you like you mattered only when it was convenient for him. Because you didn't regret what happened.

Not the choice, not the experience, not even the consequences.

You only regretted giving someone like Jaemin the power to make you feel small.

══════════════════════════

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the trees as you and Yeosang made your way down a narrow side street in one of Seoul's older districts. The buildings here were different from the gleaming skyscrapers and modern structures that dominated most of the city—older, with character etched into their weathered facades and stories hidden in their architectural details.

"It's just around this corner," Yeosang said, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that made you smile. You'd never seen him quite this animated before, his usual quiet composure brightened by genuine excitement about sharing this special place with you.

As you rounded the corner, he gestured toward a narrow building squeezed between a traditional tea shop and a small art gallery. The bookstore's exterior was understated—a simple wooden door with glass panels, a modest sign in both Korean and English that read "Hidden Pages," and large windows that offered glimpses of towering bookshelves within.

"This is it," Yeosang said, pausing at the entrance. "It doesn't look like much from the outside, but..."

"But the best treasures are often hidden in plain sight," you finished, looking up at him with warm eyes. "Just like some people I know."

The compliment made color rise to his cheeks, and he ducked his head slightly before pushing open the door for you. A soft bell chimed as you entered, and immediately you understood why this place was special to him.

The interior was a book lovers dream—floor to ceiling shelves packed with books in multiple languages, cozy reading nooks tucked into corners, and that distinctive smell of aged paper and ink that seemed to permeate everything. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, and warm light from vintage lamps created an atmosphere that felt more like a private library than a commercial bookstore.

"Welcome back, Yeosang," came a gentle voice from behind the main counter. An elderly man with kind eyes and wire-rimmed glasses looked up from the book he'd been cataloging. "And you've brought a friend."

"Mr. Park, this is Y/n," Yeosang said, his hand finding the small of your back as he guided you forward. "Y/n, this is Mr. Park, the owner. He knows more about books than anyone I've ever met."

"A pleasure to meet you," Mr. Park said with a warm smile. "Any friend of Yeosang's is welcome here. He's one of our most valued customers—always finding treasures that others overlook."

"I can see why he loves this place," you replied, already enchanted by the atmosphere. "It feels magical."

"Books have a way of creating magic," Mr. Park agreed. "Please, explore as much as you'd like. The poetry section is upstairs, along with the café. And Yeosang knows where to find all the hidden gems."

As Mr. Park returned to his cataloging, Yeosang turned to you with an expression that was both proud and slightly nervous. "Where would you like to start?"

"Show me your favorite section first," you suggested. "I want to see what draws you here."

Yeosang's face lit up as he led you deeper into the store, past sections of contemporary fiction and bestsellers, toward a quieter area in the back where the shelves held older, more eclectic collections.

"Philosophy and poetry," he explained, gesturing to the carefully organized shelves. "But also some rare editions and first prints. Mr. Park has a talent for acquiring books that you can't find anywhere else."

You watched as he moved through the stacks with the easy familiarity of someone who'd spent countless hours here. His fingers trailed along the spines of books with gentle reverence, and you found yourself captivated by this side of him—passionate, knowledgeable, completely in his element.

"This one," he said, pulling a slim volume from the shelf, "is a collection of translated Korean poetry from the early 1900s. The translation work is incredible—it manages to preserve the emotional resonance of the original while making it accessible to English readers."

He opened the book to a page he'd clearly marked before, his voice taking on a different quality as he read a few lines aloud. The words were beautiful, but it was the way he spoke them—with such care and understanding—that made your heart flutter.

"That's beautiful," you said softly when he finished. "You have a lovely reading voice."

"I used to read to my sister when we were younger," he admitted, closing the book but keeping it in his hands. "She said poetry sounded better when I read it aloud."

The small personal revelation made you want to know more about his family, his childhood, all the experiences that had shaped the thoughtful man beside you. But before you could ask, he was already moving to another section, eager to show you more treasures.

"And this," he said, reaching for a higher shelf, "is a first edition of—"

His words cut off as he stretched upward, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of toned stomach. You found your eyes drawn to the lean muscle there, the way his body moved with unconscious grace. When he noticed you looking, a different kind of heat entered his gaze.

"Sorry," you said, not sounding sorry at all. "You're just... very nice to look at."

"Y/n," he said quietly, your name carrying a warmth that made your pulse quicken.

"What? I'm just appreciating the view while you reach for books. It's called multitasking."

Yeosang laughed, a genuine sound of delight that transformed his entire face. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you replied with a playful smile, stepping closer to him. "But please, continue. I'm very interested in... rare books."

The way you said it, with that slight emphasis and the mischievous glint in your eyes, made his breathing catch. There was definitely a new energy building between you, something flirtatious and charged that made the quiet bookstore feel intimate and full of possibility.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping slightly as he pulled the book from the shelf, "this particular volume is quite... special. It requires very careful handling."

"I can be very careful," you assured him, moving close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "When something is worth taking care of."

Yeosang's eyes darkened as he caught your meaning, the book momentarily forgotten in his hands. "Are we still talking about books?"

"Are we?" you countered, looking up at him through your lashes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you crackling with tension and possibility. Then Yeosang cleared his throat softly, glancing around the store.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, "we should continue exploring. There's so much more I want to show you."

"Lead the way," you replied, though you made sure to brush against him as you moved, enjoying the way his breath hitched at the contact.

The next hour passed in a delightful haze of literary discovery and increasingly bold flirtation. Yeosang showed you rare manuscripts, beautiful art books, and hidden alcoves filled with volumes on obscure subjects. You found yourself drawn not just to the books, but to watching him—the way his eyes lit up when he found something particularly interesting, the gentle way he handled even the most worn volumes, the quiet passion in his voice when he explained why a particular work was significant.

And he seemed equally captivated by you—your genuine interest in his explanations, your thoughtful questions, the way you laughed at his dry observations about some of the more pretentious literary critics whose works lined the shelves.

"You know," you said as you browsed through a section of vintage travel guides, "I never expected to find book shopping this... stimulating."

Yeosang, who had been reaching for a volume on the top shelf, paused and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. "Stimulating?"

"Intellectually stimulating," you clarified with mock innocence, though your smile suggested otherwise. "All this talk of rare bindings and... careful handling. It's very educational."

"I see," he said, climbing down from the small step stool he'd been using. "And here I thought you were just being a diligent student."

"Oh, I'm very diligent," you assured him, stepping closer as he descended. "I always pay close attention to my teachers."

The way you said 'teachers' made his eyes flash with something that was definitely not scholarly, and you found yourself backed against the bookshelf as he moved closer.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "And what have you learned so far?"

"That you have excellent taste," you replied, your voice equally quiet. "In books and... other things."

"Other things?"

"Places," you said, gesturing around the intimate bookstore. "Atmosphere. The way you choose to spend your time with someone special."

Yeosang's hand came up to rest against the shelf beside your head, his body creating a small cocoon of privacy around you. "Someone special?"

"Very special," you confirmed, looking up into his dark eyes.

The moment stretched between you, charged with possibility. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the way his scent—clean and warm with hints of bergamot—surrounded you. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

"The café upstairs," he said softly. "Would you like to see it?"

"I'd like to see everything you want to show me," you replied, the words carrying layers of meaning.

Yeosang's smile was soft but held an edge of something more intense. "Then let's go up."

The narrow staircase to the second floor was tucked away in the back corner of the store, barely wide enough for two people. As you climbed ahead of Yeosang, you could feel his presence close behind you, the warmth of his body and the way his breathing had become slightly uneven.

The upstairs café was even more intimate than the bookstore below—small round tables scattered among more bookshelves, soft lighting from table lamps, and large windows that looked out over the quiet street. Only a few other patrons were present, all absorbed in their own books and conversations.

"Corner table?" Yeosang suggested, nodding toward a small table tucked between two tall bookshelves that would offer relative privacy.

"Perfect," you agreed, following him to the secluded spot.

As you settled into the comfortable chairs, Yeosang caught the attention of the café server and ordered tea for both of you—something called "poet's blend" that he assured you was exceptional. When you were alone again, the atmosphere felt different. More intimate, more charged with possibility.

"This place is incredible," you said, looking around at the combination café and library. "I can see why you love it here."

"It's peaceful," Yeosang agreed. "A place where you can think, or read, or just... exist without the noise of the outside world."

"Is that what you do here? Just exist?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "When the schedules get overwhelming, or when I need to process something complex. I come here and let the quiet settle into my mind."

You reached across the small table and took his hand, enjoying the way his fingers immediately intertwined with yours. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For letting me into this part of your world."

"Thank you for wanting to see it," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles across your knuckles. "I wasn't sure if you'd find it interesting."

"Yeosang," you said seriously, "watching you talk about something you're passionate about is one of the most attractive things I've ever experienced. The way your whole face lights up, the way you handle the books like they're treasures... it's beautiful."

Color rose to his cheeks again, but he didn't look away. "You make me feel like the things I care about matter."

"They do matter. You matter."

The server arrived with your tea, providing a brief interruption to the intensity building between you. But as soon as you were alone again, the charged atmosphere returned.

"This is delicious," you said after taking a sip of the aromatic blend. "Complex. Layered."

"Like you," Yeosang said quietly, his eyes holding yours over the rim of his teacup.

The simple compliment sent warmth spreading through your chest. "Is that your professional opinion, Professor Kang?"

"My very professional opinion," he confirmed with a slight smile. "Though I may need to conduct further research to be completely certain."

"Research?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of research?"

"Extensive research," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken. "Thorough investigation. Very... hands-on methodology."

The academic language delivered with such obvious double meaning made you laugh, but it was breathless laughter that carried heat. "I do appreciate thorough research methods."

"I thought you might," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "I'm very dedicated to my research."

"How dedicated?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I believe in exploring every possible angle," he replied, his own body language mirroring yours as he leaned closer across the small table. "Leaving no stone unturned."

"Very admirable," you breathed, acutely aware of how close your faces were now, how his eyes had darkened with unmistakable desire.

"Y/n," he said softly, your name carrying a question and a promise.

"Yes?"

"I think," he said, his gaze flicking around the café to confirm that your corner table was relatively hidden from view, "that I'd like to begin my research now."

"Here?" you asked, though your tone suggested the idea was more thrilling than shocking.

"Just a preliminary investigation," he assured you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "To determine if further study is warranted."

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but preliminary.

Yeosang's response was immediate and intense. His hand tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the careful control he usually maintained slipping away in the face of his desire for you. The small table between you became an obstacle as you both strained to get closer, the need for contact overwhelming rational thought.

"This table," he murmured against your lips, "is very inconvenient for research purposes."

"Terrible design flaw," you agreed breathlessly, your hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer despite the physical barriers.

Yeosang glanced around quickly, then stood and held out his hand to you. "There's a section in the back," he said quietly, his voice rough with want. "Poetry. Very quiet. Very... private."

Without hesitation, you took his hand and let him lead you away from the table, leaving your tea forgotten as you moved deeper into the maze of bookshelves. The poetry section he mentioned was indeed tucked away in the back corner, surrounded by tall stacks that created a sense of complete seclusion.

The moment you were hidden from view, Yeosang turned and pressed you gently back against the bookshelf, his body caging you in as his mouth found yours again. This kiss was different from the tentative exploration at the table—hungrier, more desperate, full of all the desire that had been building between you throughout the afternoon.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath his soft sweater, while his fingers traced along your jawline, your neck, everywhere he could reach. The taste of tea lingered on his lips, mixed with something that was purely him, and you found yourself addicted to the combination.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your mouth, his hands framing your face as if you were something precious and rare. "I've been wanting to touch you like this all afternoon."

"Then don't stop," you breathed back, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

Time seemed suspended in your hidden alcove among the poetry books. Yeosang's mouth moved against yours with increasing urgency, his careful composure completely abandoned as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you. His hands had found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, while yours mapped the strong lines of his shoulders and back.

"Y/n," he gasped against your neck, having moved to trail kisses along the sensitive skin there. "We should... people might..."

"Let them," you replied recklessly, your head tilting back to give him better access. "I don't care."

The declaration seemed to snap something in him. His mouth returned to yours with renewed intensity, and you could feel the full force of his desire in the way he held you, kissed you, breathed your name like a prayer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your clothes slightly disheveled and your lips swollen from kissing. Yeosang rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"That was," he started, then seemed to lose track of his words.

"Research?" you suggested with a breathless laugh.

"Very thorough research," he agreed, opening his eyes to meet yours. The heat still burning in his gaze made your pulse quicken all over again. "Though I think I need to collect more data."

"I'm always willing to contribute to scientific advancement," you said solemnly, though your smile was anything but serious.

"Good," he said, leaning down to press one more soft kiss to your lips. "Because I have a feeling this research is going to require multiple sessions."

"I look forward to it," you whispered back.

Reluctantly, you both began the process of making yourselves presentable again—smoothing rumpled clothes, finger-combing disheveled hair, trying to look like you'd been innocently browsing poetry rather than making out among the verses.

"Should we head back downstairs?" Yeosang asked, though he seemed reluctant to leave your private alcove.

"Probably," you agreed, equally reluctant. "Before Mr. Park wonders what happened to us."

As you made your way back through the café and down the narrow staircase, Yeosang's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both intimate and claiming. When you reached the main floor, Mr. Park looked up from his work with a knowing smile.

"Find everything you were looking for?" he asked innocently.

"And more," Yeosang replied, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Thank you for the recommendation on the poetry section. Very... inspiring."

"Poetry has a way of moving people," Mr. Park agreed with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he wasn't entirely naive about what had transpired upstairs. "I hope you'll both come back soon."

"We definitely will," you assured him, meaning every word.

As you and Yeosang stepped back out onto the quiet street, the late afternoon sun painted everything in golden hues. The air felt different somehow—charged with new possibilities and the lingering heat of your encounter among the books.

"So," Yeosang said as you began walking back toward the main road, "how did you find your first visit to Hidden Pages?"

"Educational," you replied with a mischievous smile. "I learned a lot about... poetry."

"Poetry," he repeated with a laugh. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you said, echoing your earlier flirtation.

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression serious despite the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Y/n, I want you to know that this—today, sharing this place with you, being with you like this—it means everything to me."

"It means everything to me too," you replied sincerely, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with something so special to you."

"Thank you for making it even more special," he said, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your palm.

As you continued walking, your hands linked and your hearts full, you couldn't help but think that Hidden Pages had given you more than just a glimpse into Yeosang's world—it had given you both a perfect afternoon of discovery, connection, and the kind of romance that belonged in the pages of the poetry books you'd been kissing among.

"Next time," Yeosang said as you reached the main street, "I'll show you the rare manuscripts section."

"Next time," you agreed with a smile that promised more adventures, more discoveries, and definitely more research among the stacks.

–––

The ride back to the house was thick with tension that had nothing to do with Seoul's evening traffic. Yeosang sat in the driver's seat with white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, his usual calm composure nowhere to be found. You could feel his alpha energy radiating from him in waves—controlled but barely, like a carefully banked fire that was threatening to break free at any moment.

Every time you shifted in your seat, his eyes would flick to you and then quickly back to the road, his jaw clenching with visible effort. The afternoon at the bookstore had awakened something in both of you, and the confined space of the car was making the sexual tension almost unbearable.

"You're very quiet," you observed, your voice coming out softer and more breathless than you'd intended.

"Trying to concentrate," Yeosang replied, his voice rougher than usual. "On driving. And not pulling over."

"Pulling over for what?" you asked innocently, though the heat in your gaze suggested you knew exactly what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't tease me right now, Y/n. I'm barely holding on as it is."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you. This was a side of Yeosang you'd never seen—his careful control slipping, his alpha nature more prominent than his usual thoughtful restraint. The combination was intoxicating.

You reached behind your ear and slowly, deliberately, peeled away your scent blocker.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, but now it was laced with something else—the unmistakable sweetness of arousal that had been building all afternoon. The combination hit Yeosang like a physical blow.

His foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing gold for just a moment before he forced them back to brown. "Y/n," he said, your name coming out like a warning and a plea. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you know how you make me feel," you replied simply, watching as his alpha senses processed the full impact of your unfiltered scent. "How the afternoon made me feel. How right now, sitting next to you, knowing what your hands feel like, what you taste like..."

"Fuck," he breathed, the curse unusual coming from his typically composed lips. The car swerved slightly as his concentration wavered, and he had to grip the wheel tighter to maintain control. "You're going to make me crash."

"Then drive faster," you suggested with a smile that was pure temptation.

Yeosang's response was to press the accelerator further, the city blurring past as he navigated the familiar route home with newfound urgency. His alpha scent was getting stronger too—musk and cherry blossoms now mixed with something darker, more primal. The combination of your scents in the enclosed space was creating a feedback loop of desire that had both of you breathing hard by the time he pulled into the driveway.

He'd barely put the car in park before he was turning to face you, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Inside," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable alpha command. "Now. Before I do something very inappropriate in this car."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were both out of the car and moving toward the house with quick, purposeful steps, the tension between you so thick it was almost visible. Yeosang's hand found the small of your back as he guided you to the front door, the possessive touch sending electricity through your entire system.

The moment you stepped through the front door, Wooyoung bounced up from the couch where he'd been sprawled with a gaming controller, his face lighting up with excitement.

"You're back! How was the bookstore? Did you find anything good? Did Yeosang bore you to death with poetry quotes?" He was already moving toward you with his arms outstretched, clearly intending to pull you into one of his enthusiastic hugs.

But before he could reach you, a low growl rumbled from Yeosang's chest—playful but unmistakably possessive.

"No," Yeosang said firmly, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. His voice carried an authority that none of them had heard from him before, alpha dominance bleeding through his usual gentle demeanor.

Wooyoung stopped mid-step, his eyes widening with surprise and interest as he took in Yeosang's protective posture and the obvious tension radiating from both of you. "Oh," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face as understanding dawned. "OH. Well then."

Without giving anyone time to comment further, Yeosang was guiding you toward the stairs, his hand firm and possessive on your hip. "We'll be upstairs," he announced to the room at large, his tone suggesting that interruptions would not be welcome.

"Have fun!" Wooyoung called after you with barely contained glee. "Don't break anything important!"

"Wooyoung," came Seonghwa's exasperated voice from the kitchen doorway, clearly having witnessed the entire exchange.

"What? I'm being supportive! Very encouraging!"

You could hear the others beginning to gather in the living room, drawn by Wooyoung's dramatic commentary, but Yeosang was already pulling you up the stairs with single-minded determination. His room was at the end of the hall, and he led you there with the focused intensity of an alpha who had finally reached the end of his restraint.

The moment his bedroom door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed completely. Gone was the careful politeness of the bookstore, replaced by something raw and hungry that made the air itself feel electric.

Yeosang turned to face you, his back against the door, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—possession, claim, the need to make you his in every way possible.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and rough, "what you've been doing to me all afternoon?"

"Tell me," you replied, stepping closer to him with deliberate slowness.

"The way you looked at me in the bookstore. The way you listened when I talked about the books, like what I had to say actually mattered. The way you let me kiss you among the poetry..." His hands clenched at his sides as if he was fighting not to reach for you immediately. "And then in the car, removing your blocker, letting me smell how much you want me..."

...Yeosang barely got the words out before the last of his restraint shattered. He surged forward, hands catching your face and waist at once, yanking you into a kiss so fierce it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—wasn’t even patient anymore. After an entire day of holding back, his need seared through every motion.

He tasted every gasp, every whimper, his scent filling the bedroom now that your own was free—jasmine and vanilla tangling with the deep, heady undercurrent of his alpha arousal. His hands slid into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your throat.

“Yeosang—” you breathed, but your voice broke as his lips traced the line of your jaw, down your neck to the fluttering pulse there. He grazed his teeth lightly over your skin, drawing a shudder from you.

“You know what you do to me?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a growl in your ear as he pressed you back until your knees hit the edge of his bed. “You turn every word, every look, into a promise I can’t keep—unless I have you. All of you.”

You flushed with heat, arousal sparking sharp and urgent through your veins. “Then take me, Yeosang. I’m yours.”

That, apparently, was the last thread holding him together.

He gripped your hips and lifted you easily onto the mattress, his body caging you. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, eager to touch, to feel the racing heart and tense muscles beneath. “Too many clothes,” you muttered, and Yeosang was already stripping his sweater off, baring pale skin and lean strength.

He helped you tug off your own shirt, pausing only to dip his head and press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, wherever he could reach. His hands were everywhere—urgent and reverent all at once—thumbs brushing the curve of your ribcage, fingers splaying at your back.

Your scent was thick in the air now, sweet and unmistakably needy. Yeosang paused, just for a heartbeat, and buried his face along your neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver ran through him. “God, you smell perfect,” he whispered. “Drives me out of my mind.”

You arched into him, whimpering when his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin below your ear. “I want you to lose control,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I want you to show me what you feel.”

He growled again, edging on feral. “Be careful what you wish for, Y/n.”

There was no more patience then. He pushed you gently but insistently down onto the bed, shedding his own clothes with quick, deft movements while peppering every bare inch of you with kisses—soft at your throat, sharper across your hip, soothing at your stomach as your breath came in panting gasps. His scent—cherry blossom and something spicy, something only you could coax out of him—wrapped around you, dizzying.

His hands found the waistband of your pants, hesitating just enough to flick his eyes up and get your breathless, urgent nod.

“Yes. Please, Yeosang, I want—”

He slid them off in one smooth motion, his palm following, caressing down your thigh, tracing upward until he found the heat between your legs. His fingers brushed your slickness, his eyes darkening further when he realized just how badly you needed him.

He spread you open, gentle but relentless, gaze raking over you as if committing you to memory. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, voice full of awe and something primal. “All for me?”

“All for you,” you gasped, hips canting toward his touch.

Yeosang leaned down, mouth hot and insistent as he kissed you again—capturing your gasp as he finally slid a finger inside you, then another, curling just right as his thumb circled your clit. You spasmed against him, back arching, and he groaned, the possessive alpha edge unmistakable now.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” he promised, voice thick and desperate. “Right here, before I claim you. Before you feel all of me.”

All you could do was nod, already spiraling—his fingers, his scent, his everything making your body vibrate with need. You clutched his biceps, nails leaving marks as you chased the edge. Yeosang’s free hand fisted in your hair, holding you steady as his touch grew rougher, more insistent, dragging pleasure out of you.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged, breath hot against your ear. “Let go for me. Show me you’re mine.”

You came hard, a rush of heat and light flooding your senses as you choked out his name. The noise Yeosang made was almost a snarl, and he kissed you through it—deep and hungry. His hand gentled, easing you down, stroking you as your body trembled, melting under his touch.

When the aftershocks faded, you opened your eyes to see him watching you with tender, worshipful awe—and desperate, unspent hunger. You reached for him, pulling him down, needing him closer.

“Your turn,” you whispered, voice hoarse with want. “Claim me, Yeosang. Make me yours.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift, sure movement, he positioned himself over you, pausing just long enough to look into your eyes—searching, pleading for any flicker of doubt.

There was none. You lifted your hips in invitation, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushed into you, slow but deep, a groan dragged from his chest that sounded like relief and possession and reverence all at once. The fullness of him, the heat, the feeling of being connected in every way—body, scent, heart—was almost too much.

Yeosang pressed his forehead to yours, shuddering as he bottomed out, holding still to let you both adjust. Then he began to move, hips rolling, every thrust pushing you tighter together, your scents mingling until the entire room felt heavy with belonging.

You clung to him, hands in his hair, his breath stuttering against your lips as he whispered your name—over and over, words breaking, dissolving into animal need.

He fucked you with abandon, claiming each gasp, each moan, as his due, marking your neck and chest with his mouth. As you knotted together, bonded in sensation and want, Yeosang finally surrendered, losing himself in you, in everything you offered.

And when you shattered beneath him again, he followed, his body locked against yours, his heart pounding out a rhythm that perfectly matched your own.

Afterward, Yeosang just held you—arms wrapped tight around your trembling form, his forehead still pressed to yours. His scent was all over you now, and yours on him, and there was nothing left hidden between you.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice still ragged, dizzy with love and shock and awe.

“Yours,” you breathed, smiling, blissfully.

Next>>

Taglist: @paramedicnerd004 @ateezswonderland @sassy-snassy @frankielou02 @rosydipity @starz-choisanii @giiouis @vikc @mxnsxngie @woohwaholic @alexanaguma @nkryuki @multifandom301 @green-moon @uhh-awkward-rightt @phantomslutz @lostxxgirl @mdurir @m00njinnie @ramadiiiisme @yukichan67 @lcvejjoong @fumaluvr @addi-3 @aerixfixoff @cherrysainttt @thuyting @flambychan @herpoetryprincess @littlexbunni @vtyb23 @soobieboobiebaby @marsofeight @yungiswife @yunyunrin @aceshiho @desi2go @intowxnderland @btch8008s @rileylovescats @darkdayelixer @miniverse-zen @hartsablaze @h0rnyp0t @hartsablaze @yungiswife @giiouis @0-beemzy-0 @prettypeachprincesz @awkward-fucking-thing

Want to be added to the taglist? Comment on the masterlist!💜

Taglist is currently closed 😞

[kdh-tally]

Baby x Reader Headcannons

Prompt : Headcannons of Baby and his Partner.

Author's Note : I might do one of these for each of the Saja Boys and Huntr/x girls. I started with Baby though because he currently has no pairing (and is actually my favourite Saja Boy lol)

You work at a small convenience store somewhere in the Hongdae shopping district. 

Your store is close to one of the popular schools but it’s small so most don’t even notice that there was an actual convenience store there.

One day the bell chimed, alerting you that someone came in.

You looked up from your phone only to come face to face with some cat eyed, blue haired boy. He looked familiar. Kinda like one of the boys on the ramen cups that were flying off shelves (when people actually came into the store).

“Welcome to Y/N’s convenience, what can I get you?”

He tilts his head, as though studying you, and all of a sudden you feel self conscious.

“You have anything spicy here?”

Your eyes widen noticeably in surprise. You didn’t expect his voice to be so deep or rough, especially when he had such a baby face.

Clearing your thoughts, you motioned to the back shelves with your head. “There should be some stuff back there. If you need help don’t be afraid to ask” you nodded before sending him off and leaning back into your seat.

As you opened your social media account, the very first video that popped up had the guy's face on it. “Join the pride,” he smirked at the camera as he stood next to a group of 4 other guys. 

Before you could look into it even more, the guy slammed a thick bottle of jalapeno sauce on the counter. You began to ring him up when he asked, “You wanna hang out?”.

Baby definitely came back the next day and every day after. 

He'd pretend to try new spicy combos, but really he's just standing in the ramen aisle waiting for you to notice him.

When you ask, “Didn’t you come in yesterday?” he just shrugs and responds, “I missed the vibe.”

You didn’t say it out loud, but you fixed your hair the next day before your shift.

He ends up really enjoying your presence, and really enjoying how much he can annoy you.

He’ll “accidentally” knock over the chip display just to hear you sigh and call him a menace.

Would bring you random drinks to “taste test” but makes you guess which is which by sniffing them. 

It was something he had tried on Mystery back in the dorms when Jinu was busy yapping to them about how they would be defeating the hunters. 

He eventually earns what he likes calling ‘behind the counter’ privileges. 

Basically means you allow him into the workers area, and behind the cash register so he doesn’t have to talk to you from across the counter.

He doesn’t do much working though. Mainly just watched youtube on his Ipad.

He always acts like you’re the one flirting with him. 

If you ever blush around him, he has his hands up as though surrendering or calming a rabid animal. “Woah, relax. I’m just here for the spicy chips.”

He calls you “Cashier-nim” for the first two weeks of knowing you, then switches to “pretty thing” whenever he feels like teasing you.

The day you finally found out he was actually THE Baby from Saja Boys, you were mid-bite of your snack and almost choked.

“Wait. You’re famous?”

“Duh.”

“Why are you HERE?”

“You’re here.” he says deadpan.

He once livestreamed from the store without telling you, and suddenly you had a line out the door and business took off.

He likes that you didn’t fangirl or scream when you found out. It makes him feel like a real person.

He also likes how calmly human you are. You’re one of the few that don’t go crazy because of his idol image but also don’t want to kill him. Not that you knew he was a demon anyways.

You’re one of the only people who can see past his teasing and know when he’s actually tired or stressed.

You don’t know why but you're pretty sure it's probably pressure from being an idol or something else.

He’ll sneak into the shop near closing time, hoodie pulled low above his head, hands in pockets, and just sit behind the counter with you while you do restock. No words, just chilling.

If fans ever asked if he was dating anyone, he’d smirk and go, “Maybe.” Not only are the fans shocked but so are the other boys.

They didn’t expect baby of all people to actually fall for a human and not tell them

They insist on meeting you but Baby refuses. He’s so calm about it too. 

Easily avoids all of them and poofs out of the building before they can follow him.

You two don’t do super fancy dates. You’ll walk the streets of Hongdae with spicy corn dogs and bubble tea, trying every new snack he spots.

He loves making you try unnecessarily spicy things just to watch your reactions, knowing you won’t be able to handle them. “C’mon, you survived me. You can survive this.”

He takes horrible selfies with you.

 Tongues out, fake gang signs that make him feel cool (he saw them on tiktok) and captions like “me n my boss lady”

Does he get jealous?

Baby? Nah, not really… Okay fine, a little.

If some schoolboy flirts with you while buying gum, Baby will suddenly “appear” from behind a shelf with 20 spicy ramen cups in his arms like “Pretty thing, help me figure out where to box these up yea?”

He’d dump the cups in your arms so he could take over the cash register and would absolutely glare into the boy's soul as he rings up his order.

The boy leaves.

He would call you things like: 

Cashier-nim : when you first met.

Boss Lady : Whenever you order him around.

Snack : When he tries to resist the urge to bite you. 

Trouble : When he wants to accuse you of flirting with him.

Pretty Thing : To get you flustered

Y/N-ie : Only calls you by your name during quiet and VERY sincere moments.

You call him things like: 

Spice King : You watched him down like 5 ghost peppers with ease.

Little Brat : Whenever he’s being annoying on purpose.

Incompetent toddler : You see the pattern?

Pretty Boy : Only when he’s being sweet.

Baby : It’s literally his name

He would confess to you by leaving a sticky note on the counter that says “Employee discount for boyfriends??”

Though its not super duper straight up, he’s still pretty to the point with it.

When you look up confused, he just winks and says, “I like you. Now say yes before I buy out your whole damn store.”

[aventurineswife]

Can i ask... hsr men with a reader who always calls them by their name, when the reader suddenly uses a pet name, an intimate one at that out of nowhere? Like, would they ignore would they get flustered or stuff?

“Call Me That Again and I’m Yours”

Synopsis: They’ve always known you as someone steady—reliable, composed, respectful. Names were a boundary you never crossed. Until you did. Suddenly, a soft pet name slips from your lips—they can only respond in the only way they know how.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Romantic Tension, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Fluff, Soft Pet Names, Slow burn/Sudden Intimacy, Banter turning Tender, Hurt/Comfort (esp. for Mydei and Sunday), Stoic Men Unraveling, Subtext and Suppressed Feelings, Unexpected Reactions.

Warnings: Light mentions of blood (Mydei's scene), Slight angst / emotional baggage, Suggestive tension (Aventurine, Dan Heng), Emotional themes (e.g., trauma, guilt, redemption).

A/N: I might have to do multiple parts of this req, so let me know which characters you wanna see next! :DD

You’d always called him Aventurine—not Kakavasha, never anything soft. Just Aventurine. Clean, professional, distant. Even during your playful banter or those late-night strategy sessions when his voice dipped and his eyes lingered a little too long, you’d kept the line firm.

But tonight, as he adjusted the roulette brooch on his collar, you walked past him, leaned in, and murmured, “Looking sharp tonight, darling.”

He froze. For precisely 0.5 seconds—a brief hitch in his well-oiled persona. His fingers paused mid-adjustment, and the ever-present grin twitched, faltered… then curved into something slower. Something far more dangerous.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes flicking to yours like dice clattering on velvet. “Did my ears deceive me, or have you just raised the stakes?”

You arched a brow, amused. “I figured it was time to gamble a little.”

His smile widened, but you saw it then—the faint crack in his composure. The way his hand ghosted behind his back, fingers twitching in the air like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or push you away. That name—it wasn’t just cute. It was intimate. Dangerous. It threatened the mask he so carefully wore.

“Careful,” he whispered, stepping closer until your breath caught. “Use that word again, and I might start to think you mean it.”

You smiled back, just as daring. “Maybe I do.”

And just like that, for once, you’d left him unsure who was winning.

“Sunday, we need to address the guest list again. The ceremony’s balance will collapse if—”

“—We include the North Sector delegates, yes,” he interrupted gently, hands folded, gaze serene. “I am already aware.”

You sighed, scribbling notes. Same old Sunday—graceful, poised, untouchable.

“Fine, love, but if this flops, I’m blaming you.”

Silence.

You didn’t catch it at first. His reaction was… almost imperceptible. The pen stilled between his gloved fingers. His eyes flicked toward you with the smallest shift of light. There was no smile, no obvious response, but something behind his gaze unraveled—like a ripple across still water.

“…‘Love’?” he repeated quietly, voice low, measured.

You looked up, unsure if you should laugh it off. “It just slipped.”

“I see.”

He returned to his work, posture perfect—but you noticed he hadn’t written a word since. His mind was elsewhere. The halo above his head shimmered subtly, like it pulsed in time with his heart.

It wasn’t embarrassment. It was something deeper. As if the word had struck a chord he’d long buried—something warm, painful, human.

“…You shouldn’t use a word like that lightly,” he finally said, glancing at you again.

“And if I didn’t?”

His lips parted, then closed. No answer. But his gloved hand slowly reached over and rested on yours, just for a moment. A silent concession. A rare flicker of vulnerability.

You'd breached something sacred—and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away or fall in.

You found him alone after the skirmish, sitting on the edge of a ruined stone altar, cape torn, armor dusted with ash. The blood wasn’t his, but it stained his hands all the same.

“Mydei,” you called softly, approaching him through the rubble.

He didn’t look up. “I told you to stay with the others.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

A pause. Then a sigh—more relief than exasperation. His eyes finally met yours, heavy with exhaustion and something else: grief he didn’t voice, names he couldn’t forget.

You reached out, thumb brushing a line of red from his jaw. “You’re safe… Beloved.”

He blinked.

“Say that again.”

You tilted your head. “Beloved?”

He stood, slowly, towering, not in a threatening way—but like the weight of that word shifted the battlefield under your feet. He stepped closer until you had to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“No one’s called me that since…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Since before the sea swallowed me whole.”

You swallowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, reaching out with a hand trembling with restraint. “No, don’t stop.”

In a world where titles were earned through blood and legacy, beloved was the one name he’d longed for but never dared to claim.

You gave it freely—and that was the one war he didn’t know how to fight.

Dan Heng stood silently in the Archives, eyes scanning over glowing data logs. You approached, hands behind your back, watching the way the soft blue light played across his features.

“Dan Heng,” you said as usual. He hummed softly, acknowledging you without turning.

You reached his side, pretending to study the data, but your focus was on the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow.

“I brought you some tea. Thought you could use a break, darling.”

The word slipped out, soft and syrupy.

Dan Heng froze.

His grip on the datapad faltered. He didn’t look at you immediately, but his ears turned a vivid shade of pink.

“…What did you call me?” he asked, tone low, almost cautious.

You played innocent. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, Dan Heng.”

He finally turned, eyes narrowed, a faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. “You did. Say it again.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Darling?”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, trying to maintain composure. He failed spectacularly. The calm, cool Dan Heng couldn’t meet your eyes for a solid thirty seconds.

But when he finally did, he stepped closer.

“…If you’re going to say things like that,” he murmured, voice softer now, “Don’t be surprised when I stop pretending I’m unaffected.”

You and Caelus had been walking side by side after a mission, stars glittering above. You laughed about something he’d said, casually bumping your shoulder against his.

“You always do this, Caelus,” you said, teasing. “Charging in like you’ve got plot armor or something.”

“I mean, I might,” he joked. “Main character energy and all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure thing, love.”

The moment the word left your lips, silence fell.

Caelus tripped over his own foot.

He caught himself quickly, turning to you with wide eyes. “Wait. Did you just call me—?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a sly grin. “Something wrong with that, love?”

His expression shifted, uncertain whether to be flustered or flattered. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with color.

“I… No. I mean, it’s not wrong. Just. Unexpected.”

You nudged him again. “You’re cute when you’re trying not to smile.”

“I’m not trying not to smile,” he said quickly, then failed to hide the shy grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, maybe I am. Call me that again.”

The battlefield was quiet now, monsters defeated, the sunset casting golden hues across the ruins. Argenti stood tall, brushing dust from his armor with knightly grace.

You approached, hands behind your back.

“Argenti, you were amazing back there,” you praised, as always.

He nodded humbly. “Merely fulfilling my duty to Beauty and righteousness.”

You smiled. “Of course, beloved.”

Argenti blinked.

The word echoed.

He turned to you slowly, as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “Beloved…?”

You tilted your head, eyes innocent. “Yes?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, lips parting slightly in astonishment. “You honor me with such a name… Are you certain… I am worthy of it?”

“You’ve always been worthy,” you said softly.

He took your hand, kneeling with a reverent grace, eyes shining. “Then allow me to dedicate not only my blade but my heart to you. For Beauty may guide me, but you, my beloved, inspire me.”

You laughed, a little flustered yourself now.

Leave it to Argenti to turn one pet name into a poetic vow.

[mustyrosewater]

𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐

𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖐 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖇!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 14.7k

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: you met your best friend julia in highschool two years before graduation, you kissed her older brother on halloween, logic says that four years later, you would completely forget about something like that, right?

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: mutual pining, a little bit of angst, mentions of a cheating boyfriend, drunk kisses, rated n for nasty, SMUT, cursing, cliche in the form of falling for your best friends older brother. also julia is a lesbian no i don’t take criticism.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: hey gang, so, in an attempt to write something small before releasing another chapter of an ongoing series, somehow i managed to turn this into a 14k word slow burn, please enjoy and as always comment and reblog to show your support! it means the world to me! also massive thanks to @babybluebex for brainstorming all of this with me including being the one who came up with the idea that erik drove a 2005 ford taurus post graduation.

It hadn’t been something you expected when you became friends with Julia, being paired together for a project by your teacher in eleventh grade had seemed to be some sort of divine intervention.

Initially, you’d been apprehensive; Julia was hardly the type of person you would be drawn to, her blonde hair and tan being a more than enough difference to your own more alternative choice of dress and appearance, yet somehow, a friendship bloomed quite promptly.

She’d been so sweet, offering you gum while you sat together and cracking jokes that actually made you laugh, not at all the dense popular girl stereotype you’d unfairly constructed of her inside your own mind. Julia actually evidently loved hanging out with you, and you with her.

Where you’d first spent time with each other out of obligation, sitting together in the library to study together or inviting her around to your house to work on the project, it then turned into going to the mall together and sitting together at lunch so that she could bitch about her brothers and laugh about things with you.

The first you’d heard of her brothers was purely by mention when you were studying together in the public library after school, Julia’s phone had vibrated, and she opened it up only to chuckle and type something back.

“Who’s that?” you’d asked curiously, peering your head over with a smirk, initially thinking that maybe it was a boy, someone she’d been flirting back and forth with.

“Just my brothers.” she’d laughed, turning her phone around to reveal the photo that had seemingly been taken from the inside of a car, two males varying in age making silly faces at the camera as the older brother drove, the photo seemingly taken by the younger.

“Oh, i didn’t know you had any siblings.” you’d responded, nodding your head as you looked back at the photo.

“Yeah well, Erik already graduated, and Bobby’s three years younger than me.” Julia explained, shrugging her shoulders as she closed her laptop and began placing things in her bag, humming to herself.

“They’re actually on the way to get me now. Do you need a lift?” She’d offered, smiling across at you in that way that was always contagious, leaving you unable to stop your own smile from crawling across your features.

Mulling the offer over in your head, you bit your lip and tapped your pencil against the table, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to stay a bit longer. It was pretty late after all, just now starting to get dark outside, even if it was only about six thirty, even more of a marker that summer was starting to finish up.

“If that's okay?” you finally asked, starting to pack up your own things as Julia nodded brightly and excitedly, holding out her hand for you as soon as you stood, which you took in your own, swinging your interlocked hands together as you exited the library.

“You should sleep over!” she offered, seeming like she was excited by the idea as she gripped your hand tighter, only spurring on a laugh from you. “We can watch that stupid movie, fuck what was it called..” she trailed off, placing a hand on her forehead as she tried to remember.

Snapping her fingers, she pointed a finger at you as her eyes brightened up, “After! The one that was like a fucked up Harry Styles fanfiction!”

Rolling your eyes, you groaned audibly and tilted your head back, looking back at her as she nodded in tandem with you shaking your head.

“Jesus christ, no, Julia.” you laughed through your words, still holding her hand as you stood by the entrance of the library and waited for your lift to arrive.

“I’ll sleepover, but we’re not watching that movie.”

Seemingly only excited that you said yes to the sleepover, Julia did what could only be described as a little happy dance, balancing her books in one hand as she held yours with her other.

“Oh my god, im so excited, i’ll get Erik to order us pizza.”

As if it were a speak of the devil type summoning, the sound of what could only be described as a tin man gargling nails began to sound out in the distance, your brows furrowing as you looked around the almost abandoned parking lot for the source of the sound.

Coming peeling around the corner, the silver car that looked to be a model that was over a decade old pulled into the parking lot of the library, its motor sounding like the depths of hell and the tires skidding slightly as the driver turned.

The sound of metal music blaring only got louder as the car got closer. You could see the passenger side window rolling down when it finally pulled up in front of you, Julia walking down the steps with a large grin as she waved.

You were hesitant as you stepped after her, part of you worried that this car could blow up any second based on the sound, much less hesitant to get inside based on the way her brother was driving.

“My friend’s coming over to stay.” she spoke matter-of-factly, opening the back door and leaning in to seemingly brush trash away, old cigarette packets and McDonald's bags.

When she shuffled her way into the backseat, you leaned in to finally catch a glance at these lucrative brothers, the youngest of whom in the front passenger seat couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, waved at you and grinned, looking like the nicest kid you’ve ever seen in your life.

The older brother, the one in the driver's seat with one hand resting on the steering wheel, only spared a glance at you as you got in, buckling your seat belt.

“Did you ask dad?” he spoke pointedly, looking at Julia through the rear-view mirror with his eyebrows raised, only for Julia to roll her own eyes and let out a long sigh.

“Dad doesn’t care.” she responded, her tone laced with an overwhelming sense of sass that for a moment you wondered if she even got along with her brother.

Just as you thought an argument was potentially going to start between the siblings, the eldest brother, Erik, shrugged his shoulders before putting the clutch into drive.

“Works for me.”

Before you even got the chance to open your mouth to thank him for giving you a ride, you were gripping the passenger door for dear life as he spun the steering wheel and turned the radio back up, peeling out of the library parking lot like he was drag racing.

When looking over at Julia, she only laughed at your nervous expression, evidently used to her brothers' more than lenient view on traffic laws and speeding limits.

Managing to make it to the Campbell family home without crashing, even if your legs felt wobbly getting out of the absolute death trap that was Erik’s 2005 ford taurus, you and Julia retired to her bedroom and began to settle in for a movie night, even if she’d gone ahead and put on that stupid after movie anyway.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t finding yourself even slightly pulled in by the awful plot and acting, turning into a hate watch as you sat on the bed with Julia.

“This is horrible.” she wheezed as you sat shoulder to shoulder, shovelling popcorn into your mouths together.

You shrugged your shoulders, tilting your head as a scene with the main male lead played on the screen, a horrid rendition of a Harry Styles knockoff, though the tattoos weren’t bad.

“He’s kinda hot.” you mused, unable to stop yourself from cracking up as you watched Julia’s face contort into a look of judgment and horror all at once.

“Ew! He literally looks like my brother!” she cried, holding her hand out at the screen for extra emphasis.

The sudden realization of the shared resemblance between the two men made you almost spit out your popcorn with laughter, leaning over the side of the bed to cough as you both laughed until your stomachs hurt.

This was always going to be the sign that you and Julia were going to be best friends for the rest of your lives, only with her did you ever laugh so hard that you got lightheaded or feel comfortable telling even your deepest thoughts.

The rest of that same year had been more than enough time for you to wedge your way into the Campbells’ lives, coming around almost every week, her parents loved you, always overjoyed when you came around to the point it was like you lived there half the time.

Dinner sat with the rest of her family, or barbecues out in the backyard when the weather was warm, there was so much effort on her and her family’s part to include you.

It made your heart soar.

So much of your time was spent by Julia’s side, whether it was playing video games with Bobby or the pair of you begging Erik for a lift to the mall, the pair of you putting all of your power to be annoying together to eventually get him to cave every time.

“Ok, Ok, if i take you to the mall, will you both shut the fuck up and leave me alone.” he’d groan from where he sat on his bed, the pair of you nodding excitedly from where you’d stuck your heads into his room.

Howard had seemed to recognise parts of himself in you, even if you didn’t say it, you both knew that the Campbells were the closest thing to family you had. With your mother’s tight work schedule, the only family member you had was barely home half of the time, leaving you to essentially need to function on your own.

The Campbells’ family home became your safe haven, to the point that the guest room started becoming your go-to bedroom when you came to sleep over. Your possessions and clothes were starting to be left in there to the point that it was hardly even a guest room anymore.

Within a year, you’d been accepted as an extra family member.

Even your eighteenth birthday had been spent with the Campbells, who’d gone to the trouble to get you a cake and prepare a little barbecue with some small decorations.

As much as they might have thought it was small, you hugged Julia behind closed doors and cried softly in her arms, so thankful to have her in your life to the point of tears.

Bobby and Erik had even gone to the trouble to get you a present, Bobby handing it to you sheepishly as Erik stood behind him with his hands in his pockets.

You hugged Bobby tightly and resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks, the now sixteen-year-old looking awfully proud of himself.

“Alright, come here..” you’d heard Erik say, laughing together as he pulled you into a one-armed side hug, his desire to put forward a nonchalant nature betraying him as soon as he’d seen your eyes start to fog up all over again.

While they might not have thought it was anything special, the little Claire’s necklace never left your neck from that day onwards, even when the chain started to rust, you just got a new one.

The little skull and crossbones were a pretty obvious nod to your alternative choice of wear, something that you and Julia always thought was funny, the stark difference between your two styles always being a point of conversation.

It only made sense that when Erik needed somebody to practise on when he started getting trained to be a body piercer by the tattoo shop in town, Julia had come to you.

“Fuck no.”

“Please! He just needs to do a nose, then they can upskill him, he only needs one person!”

Julia sat across from you in the food court, her arms outstretched towards you as he gripped your wrists and shook them softly.

“I’m not letting your brother come anywhere near me with a needle!” you argued, pulling your hands away from her, only for Julia to put her hands together in a motion that looked similar to either prayer or begging.

“Come onnnn! He won’t stop bugging me about it! If he can’t get his certificate, he’s gonna be miserable, and I’m the one that’s gonna have to deal with it.”

You sat and stared for a few moments, biting your lip, obviously a free nose piercing wasn’t something you would normally turn down, considering you wanted it for ages, but the idea of letting Erik do it only filled you with anxiety.

It would look pretty sweet, though.

Holding up a pointed index finger, you watched Julia’s expression light up with hope.

“You have to hold my hand.”

Your confirmation made Julia practically jump out of her seat, pulling you into a hug and rocking you back and forth as you tried to push her off.

“Thank you!” she cried out.

That was how you then found yourself lying back in the black leather chair in the tattoo studio Erik was currently apprenticing at, Julia sat by your side and gripping your hand tightly as Erik used a marker to put a little dot on your nose.

“Please don't kill me.” you whispered, only producing a chuckle out of him as he rolled his stool back to reach for the sterilized needle on his side table.

“I make no promises.” he spoke softly, only to receive a smack on the shoulder from Julia.

“Shut up, she’s already nervous.”

When he finally pushed the needle through, you shut your eyes and squeezed Julia’s hand so hard that you thought you might hurt her, trying to maintain a steadiness to your breathing as he put the jewelry through, a plain silver stud.

Maybe it was a good way to celebrate being eighteen, being able to sign off on your own piercing, just so happened that it was convenient timing to be around the same time Erik needed a guinea pig.

Rising from the leather seat slowly, as instructed, you could already see Julia smiling brightly as she leaned in to have a closer look.

“Look’s hot.” she mused, only resulting in you rolling your eyes.

“Shut up.” you chuckled, pushing her shoulder slightly so that you could pick up the mirror Erik was handing you, holding it up to your face and beholding the small silver stud that was now sticking through your nose.

You loved it, of course you did, and it was difficult to hide that, considering the massive grin coming across your face, turning your view to where Erik sat, satisfied with his work.

“Well, you’re not dead.” he stated with a smirk, tossing the used needle in a jar. “Guess that means I did a good job.”

Shaking your head, you pushed yourself off of the black leather chair and reached forward to take Julia’s hand in your own, grabbing your bag off her shoulder and swinging it over your own.

“Thank you, Erikkkk..” you mused, swinging Julia’s hand in your own as you headed for the exit, swinging the studio door open with a ring of the bell and walking out, laughing with Julia as you did.

-

Halloween was always something you’d loved as a child, fond memories of fake blood and jack o lanterns that still brought warmth to your heart even now.

Obviously the holiday and its activities seemed to take a sharp turn when you turned eighteen, the party you and Julia had been invited to promising to be a “rager.” or at least that’s what Julia had said.

Her bluetooth speaker had thrilled blasting out of it as the pair of you got ready together, finally looking at yourself in the floor length mirror, your mouth hanging open at the costume she’d convinced you buy.

“Julia, I can’t wear this.” you spoke, turning to look at where she was sitting on the floor applying mascara with her hand mirror, her head turning to look at you as she looked you over and shook her head.

“It’s perfect, I was right.”

Her words only brought a huff from you, the short skirt and fishnets seeming an odd match for the red hooded cape and corset, a crude version of a sexed up red riding hood.

As much as you wanted to pull it off of your body and opt for something else, maybe even something that was genuinely scary, you knew there was no arguing with Julia, especially when she had set her mind on something.

Apparently her mission for the night was to get you laid, at least that’s what it seemed based on what she’d picked for you.

You knew there was a girl that was going to be at the party that Julia had her eyes on, the pair of them having been exchanging flirty text messages for a few weeks now, so you were wholeheartedly supportive of that.

“Oh yeah, don’t forget to ask Erik if he’ll buy us some booze.” she mused, applying a coat of lip gloss and adjusting the sleeping beauty costume she’d changed into.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just drink the beer in the fridge downstairs, didn’t your dad say we were allowed to?”

Howard was an executive for a local brewery, and in turn, always had access to a stupid amount of beer, tucked away in a fridge downstairs that he’d given you both express permission to take from for the night, along with the promise of drinking responsibly.

“I’m not drinking beer all night, besides, Erik already agreed to drop us off, not that big of a deal for him to stop and get us a bottle of vodka or something.”

You didn’t realise you’d already had a lift organised, assuming that you’d either walk or get picked up by somebody else in attendance, but you weren’t complaining, the boots you were wearing with this outfit certainly weren’t made for walking.

“Can you go ask him, please? I have to finish doing my hair.” Julia mused, her eyes not turning away from the mirror as she plugged in her curling iron.

Rolling your eyes, you nodded, walking out of her bedroom and taking the eight steps down the hallway to bring yourself to Erik’s closed door, a sign reading “KEEP OUT.” greeting you.

Rapping your fist on the door, you heard shuffling for a few moments, footsteps getting closer before the door finally opened, Erik’s grumpy face awaiting you.

His expression shifted rather quickly when he saw your outfit, his brows furrowing and his lip curling in a look that read nothing but judgement.

“Seriously?” he breathed with a scoff, his response making you cross your arms and feel just a tad bit more self conscious.

“Julia made me wear it.”

Your reasoning seemed to leave him unconvinced as he leaned on the door frame.

“Yeah, well, it looks like it’s missing some fabric.” he spoke, reaching forward to pull softly at one of the sleeves, bringing it up to try and cover more of you. “You’re not gonna wear a jacket or anything?”

His voice held the slightest bit of concern, but you brushed it off with a sigh, tapping your foot impatiently against the hardwood floor.

“Can you buy us a bottle of vodka?” you asked, only for Erik’s brows to furrow just as the sound of Julia’s footsteps started to come in behind you.

“Pleeaasee!” she begged, a bottle of beer in each hand, one of which she promptly handed to you, which you took a tip of and curled your face up in a cringed expression, made sense why she didn’t wanna drink this all night.

“Dad gave you permission to drink from the fridge didn’t he? so why is it my problem?”

Julia let out a groan, hand reaching into her purse as she ruffled around and eventually pulled out a fifty dollar bill which she passed over your shoulder and held out to her brother.

“You can keep the change, just please, I can't drink this shit all night.”

As the pair of you stood in front of Erik, making a show of making puppy dog eyes at him, he seemed unconvinced until he took another look over at you, his expression changing just the slightest when he looked down at you, only to sigh and take the bill from his sisters hand, signalling that he agreed.

-

Pulling up to the house, you and Julia sat in the backseat of Erik’s car, multicoloured lights in the windows and music already blaring out.

Julia’s hand in your own, you opened the door and crawled out of the car, almost tripping over as you exited, only eliciting loud laughter from you and Julia, already a little bit tipsy off the vodka you’d both been taking turns sipping at.

Turning back to face the car, you both waved at Erik as you stumbled onto the sidewalk, leaning in each other.

“Thanks Erik, we love you!” Julia yelled, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright, Just be careful! Ok?” he yelled out to the pair of you, taking one final look at you before he pulled away and drove away, leaving you and Julia to your party.

The night consisted of the usual shenanigans, jell-o shots and dancing to shitty music, far too many drunken selfies taken in your costumes as you and Julia celebrated your last Halloween as highschool students.

It was coming around to almost one in the morning when you were letting one of the guys from your science class suck on your neck, pushed against a wall outside and giggling to yourself as his hands gripped your hips.

It wasn’t anything special, just a drunken make out at a party as was the usual, letting out soft exhales and moans as you ran your fingers through his stubble.

Julia and you had been separated when she’d pulled you aside to tell you she was going to say hi to the girl she’d been texting with, also known as, i’m going to go make out in the bathroom with this girl, which you had no problem with.

Just as the boy from your science class hands began to wander, you heard your name being called out, your head turning to look in the direction of Julia drunkenly calling out for you.

Pushing him off of you, you laughed softly at his insulted look, putting a hand flat on his chest as you wished him a good night and walked away, going on the direction that Julia’s voice was coming from.

While it initially took a little bit searching, you eventually found where she was standing by the back door, your arms outstretching and a wide smile on your face when you spotted each other.

Grinning like a pair of idiots, you used each other as support as you walked back through the house, more than intent on heading home for night, knowing exactly who you would be calling to drive you.

As the pair of you sat on the sidewalk, now shivering in the october weather but not seeming to have a care in the world, you wheezed as you watched Julia struggling to get out her phone, paired with a sloppy attempt at tapping Erik’s name in the contacts.

Listening to the phone ring, Julia’s head found its place comfortably on your shoulder, the two of you swaying softly as you waited for her brother to pick up the phone.

You knew Erik wouldn’t have been asleep by now, he’d always been a night owl for as long as you’d known him, even now that he worked full time at the tattoo shop, so it was hardly surprising when he picked up relatively quickly, sounding wide awake.

“What is it?”

His annoyed voice only made you and Julia snicker, the state you were both in making everything seem hilarious, especially when it was coming from her older brother.

“Erikkkk…” Julia spoke in a little sing song voice, making you laugh even harder in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t even breathe properly.

“Come pick us up!” you continued for Julia, leaning towards the phone to make sure the receiver could pick up your voice. “It’s cold and we’re drunk!”

Initially you could hear an audibly annoyed sign coming from the phone, but it seemed Erik knew better than to try and say no, especially considering that he’d been explicitly told by Howard to pick the two of you up if you rang.

“I’ll be there in ten.” he spoke, “I swear to god if either of you vomit in my car, I’ll kill you.”

His warning was ignored, only a resounding cheer from you and Julia as you watched her try to hang up the phone sloppily.

“I can’t hang up, you do it.” she said through her laughter, handing the phone to you.

“Love you, Erik.” you slurred slightly, a giggle leaving your throat as you hung up the phone.

He said he’d be there in ten, but he made it in eight.

Helping Julia into the car first, when he turned to help you, his eyes drifted to your neck immediately, focusing in on the purple marks along your skin, seeming to visibly stiffen and take in a sharp breath when he saw them.

Too drunk to notice or care, you just let him help you into the car and laid your head against Julia’s shoulder, the pair of you smiling like idiots and occasionally giggling to yourselves as Erik drove you home silently, seeming slightly more ticked off than you would have expected.

When you finally arrived home, Julia had managed to get out of the car without too much of a struggle and make her way back inside, leaving Erik to help guide you up the path to the front door, his hand resting on your back.

As you tried your hardest to sneak back inside the house quietly even with your inebriated state, you expected Erik to find the sight of you this drunk to be more amusing, yet when you looked at him as you laughed, his face was stone cold, his eyes straight ahead.

It made the smile fall off of your face as you finally made it to the guest room, turning to look up at him as you stood in the doorway, grabbing his upper arm when he went to try turning and walking away without a word.

When you’d grabbed him, he turned, but he didn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained in the ground as he stood there.

“What is it?” you asked, stepping closer and using the hand on his upper arm to try and rub his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have called you, we just didn’t wanna walk home and-“

“It’s not that.” he interrupted, finally looking down at you, his eyes once again going to the marks across your neck, clearly showing what he was annoyed about yet not saying a word.

Furrowing your brows, you were confused, he was clearly annoyed about something yet he wasn’t even willing to explain himself? that wasn’t your problem.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what’s wrong, then how am i supposed to fix it?”

Your hand reached up to grip his chin between your thumb and your index finger, forcing him to look at you, offering up a smile in the hopes of him actually explaining rather than just brooding.

He was twenty three now, his face had taken on just a little bit of stubble and he’d cut his hair a bit shorter from when you met him, now that he was working at the tattoo studio, he’d gotten his ears pierced, the thick rings hanging from his lobes.

When he’d mentioned wanting to get his septum pierced, you disagreed, but you had a feeling he was planning on doing it anyway.

You weren’t entirely sure why you did it, maybe it was the alcohol, or the leftover adrenaline from making out with a stranger, but you got on your tippy toes and put a hand on Erik’s cheek, capturing his lips in a kiss that had him letting out a small sound of shock.

Any second now, he was gonna push you away, let you down easily and let you live out the embarrassment of kissing your best friend's brother.

Until he didn’t, instead, Erik’s hands were immediately on your hips, pushing you into the guest room and pushing the door closed as he did.

His face was warm, his cheeks seeming to be burning up as you both held your eyes shut and let a sloppy make out begin to take place, just as you had been doing before, except as opposed to the boy from your science class, Erik seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

His hands squeezed your hips tightly, his tongue immediately pushing its way into your mouth without hesitation.

You felt like your nerves were on fire as he pushed you against the wall, holding you against it with a strength that only made you want more of him, desperately.

It had seemed that your hand guiding itself down his body before finally running your fingers along the hard tent in his jeans had only resulted in the harsh reality of the situation coming crashing back down on the pair of you.

Where you were, who you were currently kissing, as well as who you were.

Never before had you ever seen Erik pull away so quickly, taking a step back and looking at you, taking in the sight before him of you panting with swollen lips in your skimpy little halloween costume.

Shaking his head, he took another step away from you, a hand coming to wipe his face as he turned for the door.

He didn’t say anything when he left, opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him as you listened to his footsteps getting quieter and quieter as he walked away and back upstairs to his room.

As you stood there, it dawned on you that you had absolutely no clue why you’d done that, maybe you were just still too drunk to realise why kissing your best friends older brother was a really fucking bad idea.

Even more so, you had no idea why the rejection had stung as much as it had, tears beginning to prick at your eyes as you took in a shaky breath and started to rip off the costume that was now feeling more constricting than anything else.

He didn’t talk to you the next morning, wouldn’t even look at you when he walked into the kitchen for breakfast with the rest of the family, just grabbed a juice out of the fridge and went back to his room.

Your brain was swimming with the possibilities of what he must be thinking of you, who gets that drunk and kisses someone’s brother with no fear of the repercussions, did he think you were a slut?

For some reason, the thought that he felt that way about you just made you even more upset.

Life continued on after that halloween, you and Julia’s friendship stayed the same, and eventually both you and Erik just continued on as you always had, electing to both ignore the kiss as if it had never happened.

You never spoke about it, and seemingly had no intention to.

Julia started at college, you didn’t, but even as Julia’s free time dwindled, you were still around at the Campbell’s house fairly often, even if it wasn’t for sleepovers anymore.

As often as her schedule would let you, you and Julia still spent time together as often as possible, oftentimes meeting her on campus to have lunch together, or even just to sit with her while she studied in the library, even if it meant sitting on your phone in silence.

Initially, the closest you and Erik ever got to addressing what happened was an awkward smile when the two of you crossed paths in the house, but eventually, things returned to the way they were, a comfortable friendship was reestablished between the two of you, which allowed for matches of Mortal Kombat to become a common past time while you waited for Julia to finish classes for the day, or even messaging him to ask for a lift when he finished work when you were going to visit Julia at the house.

You even let him pierce you a few more times, unable to hide your expression when you’d walked into the shop, only to see he’d gone ahead and gotten his septum pierced.

“I thought I was gonna hate it.” you mused as he got his supplies ready, marking up the other end of your nose to prepare you for getting your other nostril done.

“Does that mean you like it?” he asked with a laugh, the two of you now more than used to this routine to just talk casually while he lined up the needle.

“No I- jesus, ow. No, I don’t.”

You tried not to scrunch your nose as he pushed the jewellery in, holding the mirror up to look at the two perfectly lined up matching studs now sitting on your nose.

“Too bad, it’s not going anywhere.” he shrugged his shoulders, rolling away in his chair and taking off the black latex gloves he’d been wearing.

“I thought you thrived off my approval.” you spoke sarcastically, tilting your head as you stood, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Oh I do, I just don’t care.”

His response incited a laugh from you, rolling your eyes as you reached for your purse, opening it and beginning to rifle through the bills sitting inside.

“Don’t worry about it.” Erik spoke, waving his hand at you as he began to clean off the chair and prepare for the next client.

“Erik, I can’t not pay you, won’t you get in the shit with your boss?”

Struggling his shoulders, he continued laying out his tattoo supplies, wrapping the gun as he spoke.

“Call it an early birthday present.”

Part of you was touched that he remembered your birthday was coming up soon, but considering that Julia had probably already been talking about it, you suddenly weren’t surprised.

Letting out a stubborn sigh, you just shook your head and put your purse back in your bag, turning to walk out.

“Thaaaanks Erik.”

Ever since he’d given you your first piercing, it just became the norm to always give him the same thank you in the same sing-song tone.

You weren’t teenagers anymore, hell, Erik was turning twenty six in may, but even now, so many years later, neither of you wanted to address the unspoken ‘thing’ you two had, whatever you could call it.

Sometimes you could have sworn Julia knew, she always was more observant than she let on, and there was only so many times the glances shared between you and Erik were going to go left unnoticed.

You couldn’t pretend you hadn’t noticed the look he’d given you when he pierced your tongue for your twenty-first birthday, or how hard he’d gripped his coffee mug when he watched you cry to Julia over your boyfriend cheating on you.

It was pathetic really, to be crying in your best friends arms over a relationship that hadn’t even lasted a full year, but when you’d found the pictures on his phone of other girls, and the messages he’d been exchanging, it still wrecked you to what felt like the point of no return.

Julia seemed to save the i told you so’s and just let you cry it out in her arms in her bedroom, as much as she’d always hated your boyfriend, especially the way he treated you, she understood that right now you were in pain.

You weren’t concerned about Erik standing in the doorway, if anything, it was nice to have two people to vent to, especially when it was him who came and picked you up with Julia when you’d called her in tears.

“I found the photo’s on his fucking phone.” you sniffled, wiping your red and puffy eyes with you sleeves as Julia rubbed your back. “He’s been fucking other girls since we got together.”

Your voice broke as you finished your sentence, seeing Julia shaking her head out of the corner of your eye, Erik muttering something to himself that you couldn’t quite hear, but enough to understand he was pissed on your behalf.

“What a lowlife.” you heard Erik scoff, his comment bringing a soft laugh out of you surprisingly, nodding your head in agreement as you sniffled.

“I wish I was gay so that we could just be girlfriends.” you laughed through your tears, inciting a laugh out of Julia.

She held you in your arms and let you cry it out for the rest of that night, and even though Erik went back to his room, you could tell what had happened had upset him.

You’d gone to his room and knocked on the door later that night when you finally started to calm down, leaning in the door frame and offering a soft smile, as exhausted as you were.

“Thank you for coming to get me today.” you started when he looked up from his book, picking at your sleeve as you stood in his doorway.

“Of course,” he started, sitting up and putting his book to the side “Didn’t really want you spending another second at that assholes place.” he shrugged his shoulders, resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding your head, you sniffled slightly and rubbed at your eye, willing any other tears away when Erik stood up from his bed.

“Hey, hey.” he said softly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, “Please don’t cry, especially not over someone like him. I hate seeing you cry.”

You let Erik pull you into his arms, not quite crying, but still shaking and shutting your eyes tightly.

“I just don’t know what I did wrong.” you whispered, Erik resting his chin on the top of your head as he rocked you softly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” he reassured you, simple yet effective, enough to have you nodding your head as he held you.

That was just over a year and a half ago, but it was still fresh in your mind.

As much as it was likely that the Campbell’s had something planned for your birthday, you decided you could find some comfort in your own company a few days before your birthday, maybe that was why you’d ended up in the bar in town, a cocktail nursed between your fingers as you watched a live band performing.

The bar was known for a more alternative crowd, fitting the bill for you anyway, and with the addition of live music for the night, it was a nice way to spend your free time.

It was reasonably packed for the show, taking you at least five minutes just to travel from one end to the other after getting your drink, needing to weave through people before you’d ended up in your comfortable little corner by one of the pillars.

When you’d been approached by the stranger, a smirk on his face and a confidence that you initially found off putting, his not very subtle flirting and willingness to playfully persevere despite your cold response, eventually he went from annoying to endearing.

You talked about all the basic topics, music, movies, anything really; he was very clearly just biding his time until you agreed to let him stick his tongue down your throat, which lucky for him, you eventually caved and let him.

What was a little pre birthday make out with a stranger after all.

He had you with your back against the pillar as he kissed you softly, a smile present on both of your lips as his hands found their way to your hips and yours became tangled in his hair.

It was really only by chance that your eyes had begun to scan the bar when he started to kiss along your jawline, your head turning to allow him access and your eyes opening lazily.

Fuck. Oh fuck.

There he was, leaning against the bar, a beer having been long forgotten in his hand, presently staring absolute daggers at the pair of you.

Erik’s glare wasn’t necessarily focused on you as it was on the guy that was presently all over you.

You were so sick of this, so tired of pretending that you never stopped thinking about the kiss you’d shared so many years ago on halloween, sick of the way he looked at you and just let the two of you pretend that there was nothing there purely just because he was your best friend's brother.

The eye contact you made with him was pointed, your mouth falling open in a gasp as a particularly sweet spot in between your neck and your jaw was caught between the strangers lips, yet you kept your eyes on Erik, who looked straight back at you.

Even from the distance, you could see him gripping his beer bottle just a little tighter, like he knew exactly what you were doing.

There wasn’t any room to pretend, you even let a few little soft moans leave you as you shut your eyes again, turning back to face the stranger again and kiss him in a way that was entirely just for show, hoping to incite some sort of jealous rage within Erik, so that might stop pretending and actually just take the plunge.

So many years spent pretending like you hadn’t developed something for him that extended beyond the reaches of just being friends, the tears you’d cried after he left the room on halloween, the way that you’d closed your eyes and wished it was him when your first real boyfriend took your virginity.

And yet, just as you’d feared, he did nothing.

Pushing the stranger off of you, you felt a pang in your heart, refusing to even speak a word in response to his questioning as to why you’d stopped, even when he’d called you a “fuckin’ tease.” as you walked away, pushing your way through the crowd and headed for the door.

The night air was cold, tears pricked at your eyes but you ignored them, only pulled your jacket closer to your body and began taking steps away from the bar and onto the sidewalk.

You didn’t even want to believe that you were hearing the sound of the bar door opening, your name being called and accompanied by fast footsteps; it wasn’t until a hand grabbed your shoulder and you were forced to turn and look at the perpetrator that you were face to face with those same icy blue eyes looking down at you.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, his tone accusatory as if he didn’t know exactly what was happening back there in the bar, the way you were begging for him in every single way other than verbally.

“I’m tired of doing this, Erik.” you spoke, running a hand over your face as the two of you stood there in the cold.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You know exactly what i’m talking about.” you started, “are we just going to dance around this forever? pretend like it doesn’t exist? pretend that whenever i hear about you having some new little girlfriend for the week that i don’t die a little bit inside?”

By the way his face began to shift, you knew that he was well aware of what you meant, seemingly unable to find the words to say as he opened his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out.

“We can’t.” was all he said when he finally spoke, his eyes remaining trained on you, hands staying stuck at his sides.

Your face contorted, a deep sigh leaving your lips as you shook your head, trying so hard to fight the way that your bottom lip was starting to wobble.

“We could.” you countered, bringing your hands to your pockets. “But you’re just a coward.”

You knew you didn’t mean that, but the pain in your chest was bringing fourth emotion that you’d had no way of getting out until now, so many things you’d wanted to say but never got the chance to.

Part of you wanted him to chase you, run after you calling your name like in the movies, but he didn’t, he just let you walk away, like he always did.

You’d regretted what you said as soon as you turned and walked away, feeling yourself already starting to sob quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes with your sleeve.

After that night, you hadn’t been round to the Campbell house for days, Julia had messaged you when she was free, offering to come and get you so that you could hang out, but you just lied through your teeth and told her you were busy.

It hurt to treat your best friend this way, but you were just too torn up to care, the risk of seeing Erik and having any chance of an interaction with him was just too much, more than you were willing to take.

Just as before, you were certain Julia had some idea as to what was going on, when you’d spoken to her on the phone and you’d said you weren’t feeling too good, she sounded too knowing for her own good when she said goodbye, like she had something she needed to go do, she sounded determined.

You just went to work and came home, the next three days being a slow moving blur of feeling nothing and then the next minute feeling everything.

It was exhausting pretending for so many years that you hadn’t felt the way that you did about Erik, pushing it down and acting normal.

Of course you had thought about how it would affect your friendship with Julia, it was one of only things you thought about every time Erik crawled his way into your thoughts, the potential for such a betrayal made you feel ill, but then the other part of you, the part that had known Julia for almost six years at this point, wondered if she would have accepted it, embraced it even.

Just as you were thinking of her, your phone began to buzz next to you on your bed, ripping you out of your thoughts and seeing the image of a photo you and Julia had taken together at a party as her contact floated above it.

With a sigh, you swiped to answer the call and put the phone to your ear, Julia’s voice immediately coming through.

“Happy Birthday!” she cheered, your brows scrunching together as you realised that you’d just forgotten your own birthday entirely.

“Holy shit.” you laughed softly, rubbing your eye as you sat up. “I didn’t even realise, I forgot my own birthday.”

Her laughter rang through, unable to stop a smile coming across your features no matter how hard you tried.

“When are you coming around? we got a cake for you and everything, well, mom did at least.” she explained, causing you to look over to your clock and see it was already one in the afternoon. Jesus.

“Uh, i’ll be around in like twenty, just let me have a shower.” you responded, standing up and reaching for the towel hanging on your door.

“Do you want me to ask Erik to come get you?”

The mention of his name had you stiffening up, the grip on your phone getting tighter as you walked into the bathroom.

“No.” you said flatly, only to correct yourself “I mean, i think i’ll just walk, i need the fresh air.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Julie said goodbye and hung up the call, letting you turn the faucet and get the shower going.

-

The Campbell’s family home was always welcoming, even just walking in, it always felt warm, that was something you couldn’t deny.

It spoke volumes that they’d organised a birthday celebration for you, the only people that ever did, having not spoken to your mother since you graduated, it seemed they were the only family you had left.

When you’d walked around to the backyard, Julia was the first person to spot you, running to you with open arms and birthday wishes, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“You need to talk to Erik, he’s miserable.” she whispered to you as she hugged you, ignoring your confused face when she pulled away and took your hand, guiding you to where the rest of the family were.

Choosing not to address what she had said, you let yourself accept hugs and birthday wishes from Bobby, saying your hello’s to Howard and receiving a kiss on the cheek from Brenda.

You and Erik didn’t even look at each other.

He was sat on one of the outside chairs, nursing a beer which he took occasional sips at, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

It was obvious to everybody around you that you were seemingly giving one another the silent treatment, yet they didn’t say anything, just allowed the festivities to continue as Howard worked at the grill and Julia handed you a white claw.

However you managed it, you’d been able to spend almost your entire birthday celebration without saying a word to Erik, even when Bobby and Julia had handed you a present that was labelled to have come from all three Campbell siblings, he still stood at a distance, talking to his dad or sulking a few meters away.

You knew completely that it was immature, to put this much effort into not even talking to him purely due to rejection, but the other part of you, that eighteen year old girl that cried herself to sleep after the boy she liked kissed her and ran out of the room? she was still there, and she was hurt.

By the time it all started to wrap up, Julia had already convinced you to stay the night, even if you were hesitant, she seemed adamant, giving you a look that seemed to imply that she knew exactly why you’d been acting so miserable, especially considering what she’d said to you when you’d arrived.

Wishing your goodnights to Howard and Brenda, you helped Bobby clean up while Julia packed up the leftovers, and yet during this entire time, Erik still sat outside, now nursing a cigarette between his fingers as she sat on the porch swing.

At first, you were going to turn around and go to bed, let him wallow out there and regret what was literally his decision in the first place, but when you turned, you came face to face with Julia, who had a brow quirked as she looked at you.

“Get out there,” she spoke with a hushed tone, pointing to the back door “and talk to him.”

You wanted to argue against it, really you did, but just as it had always been and will continue to be, there was no arguing with Julia.

Stepping out into the backyard that was now only lit up by garden lights, you could see Erik in the distance, the small orange glow on his cigarette lighting up his face as he inhaled.

Without saying a word, you came and sat down next to him, keeping your eyes forward as he did the same, the pair of you being too stubborn to speak at first.

As the silence grew, you huffed and crossed your arms, looking out at the garden that Brenda was so proud of.

“Julia told me to come out here and talk to you.” you finally broke, unable to stand just sitting there in the overwhelming tension any longer.

“She told *me* to talk to *you*.”

Erik’s response made you exhale out of your nose in a sort of soft laugh, at least only as much as you could laugh in that moment; it just made perfect sense that eventually Julia caught on to what was happening between you, it was bound to happen.

“I had a feeling she figured it out.” you mentioned, only for Erik to nod his head.

“She knew when i came home after the bar, said i looked like a kicked puppy.” he mused, a soft smile now falling across his features as he turned his head to look at you for the first time since you’d sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your apology had him shaking his head and sighing.

“I’m the one that should be sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

“Which part, kissing me and then pretending it never happened? or friendzoning me for almost four years straight?”

It was crazy just how quickly the tension between you melted away when you finally started talking. Letting it boil in silence had probably been the least wise course of action, but you were anything if not stubborn.

“Both I guess?”

Letting out a small laugh, you let him continue.

“I’m not sorry about pulling away on halloween though, you were drunk, i wasn’t about to be the monster that screwed his little sisters shitfaced best friend.”

Seeming to let the last bit of tension fade away, he turned to face you completely, resting his elbow on the back on the porch swing.

“Even if she really wanted you to.” you said softly with a laugh, acknowledging that was the easy part, of course it had been a smart thing to do, considering Julia probably would have killed him if that were to have happened.

“Especially if she really wanted me to, of course you’d have to be drunk to wanna kiss this face.” he joked, pointing to his face with his index finger.

Shaking your head, you ran your hand along his arm that was resting in the backrest, furrowing your brows.

“I don’t know about that, i’m pretty sober.” you replied lazily, tilting your head as you smiled at each other “I still wouldn’t say no to a kiss if you’re offering.”

That seemed to add another layer of realism to it all, the reminder of who you both were, and the connection between you.

Julia had seemed to make it clear that you had her blessing, why else would she order you outside to talk to her brother, when she seemed to already know exactly what was happening when Erik had come home from the bar that night.

It was the sudden realisation that right here, right now, there was absolutely nothing stopping you anymore, that you’d effectively been given the green light.

So when that smile on Erik’s face only grew, it seemed like a knee jerk reaction as you both leaned in, hands coming to rest on each others cheeks as for the first time in almost four years, you laid a kiss against Erik’s lips, at least one that was going to be reciprocated without question.

Would it have cliche to say that it truly did feel like fireworks going off in your chest? like his fingertips were made of lightning as they rested against your neck, the thickly feeling of his facial hair not bothering you in the slightest.

God, he smelled like cigarettes and cheap cologne, but in the best way possible, just the same as he’d smelled when you first kissed him when you were eighteen, like nothing had changed at all since then.

But that was definitely a lie. Four years was a long time, a lot can happen in that time, lots of life to be experienced, and you were a very different person when compared to the version of yourself who was only just on the brink of graduating.

At first it felt like being stuck in this weird sort of limbo, you just kissed him softly like he was going to be spooked and run away like last time, some small part of your brain fearing it was going to happen all over again; yet when his hands fell to your waist and pulled you in closer, it felt like confirmation that he wasn’t planning on letting you go anywhere.

Finally breaking for air, you kept your foreheads connected, soft pants against each others lips while the pair of you just sat there and took one another in.

“Julia’s gonna kill us.” Erik breathed out with a soft laugh, the mention of it suddenly making you pull away and turn your head in the direction of the house.

As you both turned your attention back to the kitchen window, the sight of two heads quickly ducking out of view made it pretty clear that both of Erik’s siblings had been watching from a distance, seemingly to make sure everything went down smoothly.

Shaking your head, you turned back to Erik with a smile, your arms coming to wrap about his neck.

“Something tells me she had this all planned out from the beginning.” you spoke, just about to lean in to capture another kiss from Erik’s lips before his attention was caught by something around your neck, his hand coming up to wrap his fingers around the claire’s skull and cross bone necklace him and Bobby had gotten you almost five years ago now, which had now fallen out of its place hidden under your shirt.

He ran his thumb over the worn down metal, most of the details almost unrecognisable after so many years of wear, his smile growing as he chuckled.

“I can’t believe you still wear this thing.” he sighed, his eyes looking back up at you; his smirk definitely seemed to reveal that there was at least some small bit of satisfaction on his part, knowing you walked around with a necklace he got you around your neck.

“My ex hated it.” you laughed, leaning forward to east your forehead on his shoulder to try and shield the blush now steadily starting to form on your cheeks. “He told me it was weird to wear a necklace that my friend's brother got me, I think he was jealous of you?”

You heard Erik scoff, pulling away to see him rolling his eyes. “I literally met him once and he acted like he was ready to fight me any second, stupid.” he muttered the last part, only to lean forward and steal another kiss from you.

“Maybe he had a reason to feel threatened after all.” you spoke against his lips, allowing yourself to just sit back and enjoy the feeling of having your lips and face peppered with long overdue kisses.

“Mhm, maybe.” he laughed, bringing your face forward to lay a kiss on your forehead, letting you shut your eyes and melt into the feeling of him wrapping his arms around you and holding you there in a hug.

“He’d feel even worse if he knew what i’m gonna do to do as soon as we get back upstairs and in my room though.”

His sudden boldness had your head flying back, looking across at him as your face shifted from a look of shock, into an expression that resembled the exact image of a horned up teenager, biting your lip and leaning forward to put a hand on his jean clad thigh.

Quirking an eyebrow at you, he let his hands squeeze your waist just a little bit tighter, his voice taking on a deeper and slightly more serious tone.

“You really shouldn’t have tried so hard to make me jealous back in the bar the other day.” he started, pulling you up with him as he stood, his grip on you tight like a vice. “Cause now i’m gonna do exactly what i wanted to do when i had to sit there and watch that fucker throw himself all over you.”

Without any other word exchanged, the pair of you were walking back into the house, hands gripped together.

The lights in the kitchen had been turned off by the time you made your way back inside, the rest of the Campbell’s seemingly excusing themselves into their respective rooms to go to sleep, providing a quick and easy uninterrupted party back up to Erik’s room.

It would have been a lie to say it didn’t feel like an adrenaline rush to practically be sneaking into his bedroom quietly, something you’d definitely thought about on more than one occasion, the thrill that would have come with sneaking around with your best friend's brother.

As much as she must have known exactly what she was doing, there was still some mischievous undertone to it all as Erik shut his bedroom door quietly and turned to face you.

With only his lamp illuminating the bedroom, it was dim but still light enough to make out his face clearly, even more so when he took the few small steps across the carpeted floor to now stand in front of you, looking down at you like you were something to be devoured.

“Do you have any idea how hard I jerked my cock when you left for that halloween party? When I watched you get out of my car in that outfit?”

His voice was rugged and deep, already resulting in your body starting to have a physical reaction, shivering as he stood over you, not too unlike the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood.

Biting your lip, you let your hand reach forward to trace your index finger over his belt buckle, watching him take in a sharp breath.

“Is this a good time to tell you it still fits?” you asked, tilting your head and doing your very best to look up at him with the innocent puppy dog eyes that you already knew drove him wild.

The sound he let out could truly not be described as anything other than a growl, a deep rumble from deep within his chest that had a shiver running along your spine.

Without another word, Erik leaned down to capture you in another kiss, except this was unlike the soft pecks you’d exchanged in the garden, this kiss was hungry, not too unlike the one you’d exchanged on halloween, you could tell from the way he began to grab at you that he was just as desperate as you were.

This was years of buildup now seeming to come spilling over, like the lid had well and truly been blown off and now it was all coming out in a wave, sexual frustration and jealousy for someone that you hadn’t even dated.

His hands molded to your body like they knew it instantly, knowing exactly where to hold you and where the little spots were that made you let out those little sounds that were like music to his ears.

Guiding you to the bed had been easy work, and when the backs of your knees touched it, he shoved you down before you could sit, landing on your back with a soft “Oomph!”

Standing above you now, you could only watch as Erik looked down at you, watch as he reached down to lazily pull at his belt until it became undone, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them sit open and undone around his hips before he kneeled on the bed.

The moment his hands were back on you again, running up your sides and coming to your chest, he didn’t seem shy or hesitant in the slightest, squeezing at one of your tits with no shame, running his thumb back and forth over your peaked nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

Letting out a small whimper, your hands came to shield yourself out of instinct, only to be met with a sudden and harsh resistance in the form of Erik’s free hand gripping your wrist and wrenching it away from yourself.

“Don’t try it.” he warned.

This was a version of Erik you hadn’t seen first hand, you’d always known him as sweet and caring towards you, but there were definitely times where you could see something behind his eyes when he looked at you.

You’d seen it in the bar when he glared, the darkness that overtook his entire being. It would have been a lie if you said it wasn’t a thrill.

As if it was bringing something out of you as well, you couldn’t stop the way you looked up at him, the puppy dog eyes seeming like a completely natural reflex as you couldn’t fight the whimper that came out of you when he gripped your wrist so hard it almost hurt.

There seemed to be something unspoken between the pair of you over those years of pretending you didn’t want each other, something extended beyond feelings and presented itself as more of just this feeling that neither of you could doubt, this understanding that when the pair of you came together, there was going to be flames.

The hand that wasn’t gripping your wrist continued to touch you, pinching your nipple between his index finger and thumb, twisting slightly just to look down at the way you whimpered, letting yourself surrender to the headspace completely.

As you tried to turn your body away, be just wrenched you back to face him even harder, his free hand coming to grab your face and force you to look up at him, squeezing your cheeks so hard your lips pressed together like a fish.

“You’re really gonna be like that?” he breathed with a soft laugh, like he didn’t take you seriously as tall, almost like your attempts to pull away from him were entirely in vain.

It’d had never been like this with old boyfriends, missionary where you’d laid there like a goldfish and let them finish up, or even when they’d pathetically beg you suck their dicks; No, there was something playing within you that wanted Erik fired up, like getting him annoyed was all part of the fun.

Trying to pull your wrist away from his grip, even if it was futile, you let out a small grumble, looking up at him in a way that more than put across the attitude you were purposely giving him, like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Be like that if you want Princess, works for me.” he spoke lowly leaning in to look down at you in a way that just read as “you asked for this.”

Without another warning, Erik’s hand was disappearing up your skirt, his fingers starting to rub up and down your panties with little to no mercy or warning, your mouth opening to let out a sound only to be promptly stopped by Erik’s other hand clamping over your mouth.

His fingers were skilled, running along your fabric covered slit with a precision that was above what you even thought possible for a guy, like he knew exactly where to touch you in a way that immediately had you whining against his hand.

It didn’t take long for your panties to be pushed aside only to make room for his fingers to start gliding through your wetness, promptly soaking his hand as you tried to close your legs out of reflex, only to clamp down on either sides of him, using his body to keep you open for him.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he mused, a dry laugh leaving his lips as he looked down at you, once again giving you no warning as he pushed two fingers straight inside you, gifting you no patience on his part as he wasted no time pushing them inside you up to the knuckle.

Your muffled cry only served to egg him on further, the feeling of your hips trying to pull away from his fingers and your back arching spurring on a slightly cruel smirk across his features.

“You’re that fucking wound up just from my fingers inside you? Seriously?” his tone was mocking at best, leaving you only able to look up at him with eyes that were starting to grow misty as he fucked you with his fingers at a pace that almost hurt, but in the best way conceivable.

God, it was almost embarrassing how much your body reacted to him, the sounds you were making against his hand purely from his touch, you were acting like a cock hungry slut, but it seemed that it was exactly how Erik wanted you, especially when he ripped his fingers out of you out of nowhere with seemingly no warning, the pathetic sound you made at the absence that left you clenching around nothing.

He lifted his fingers up so that they were held right in your face, the sticky mess on his fingers glistening as he spread his fingers to show it off.

“Look at that..” he breathed, letting out an exhaled chuckle as he stared at it like he was almost in a trance, only to open his mouth and suck your mess off of his fingers with the most atrociously sloppy sound you’d ever heard, pulling them out of his mouth again and looking down at you. “Like fuckin’ honey.”

That image along was enough to have your whole body shivering, watching him slurp on his fingers, sucking your own essence off of them like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted; where you legs had been attempting to close before hand, your own body began to betray you, your hips lifting off of the bed as you let out a desperate sound, chasing after his touch again.

Seeing your response to losing the feeling of him, Erik only seemed to find amusement from the way you were whimpering and trying to find any sort of relief, his solution being to bring his hand back down to your pussy, yet only letting his finger tips begin to ghost over your clit, hardly making any contact, nowhere near enough as far as you were concerned.

All you could do was let out sounds of protest, your hands desperately fighting to break free from where he was holding them down with only one hand, his strength and ability to overpower you being more than enough needed to keep you right where he wanted to.

“Whats wrong, princess..?” he cooed at you, mocking you as he kept his face close to yours, continuing his string of almost touching you as he waited to see how long it would take for you to break. “Something you want? You want me to touch you?”

With his hand still held over your mouth, it wasn’t exactly easy to verbalise your answer, but a whimper that came out sounding more like a rugged groan and the nodding of your head, all paired up with the desperation of your eyes that were blown out to the size of dinner plates, he seemed to understand the message clear enough.

Just as he’d done before, he gave you no warning when he plunged his fingers back inside you, fucking you with them with a starting pace that had your eye’s rolling back into your head, practically crying out into his hand the sudden jump from feeling barely anything to being heinously overstimulated, your brain was beginning to turn to mush, you were becoming putty in his fingers.

You’d always imagined it might be something like this to a degree, but fucking yourself with you fingers late and night and shutting your eyes pretending it was him was practically nothing when compared to what was happening right then and there, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter as you felt yourself starting to go numb.

“You gonna cum?” he teased, “Gonna gush all over my fingers like a nasty little slut? Fuuuuck, look at you, you can’t even hear what im saying.”

He was correct of course, anything he was saying to you was coming out as white noise as you finally felt you body coming loose around him, pulsing around his fingers as you let out obscene muffled noises and felt your toes curling, swearing for a moment or two that you went blind on one eye.

You were still in a daze when his hand came off of your mouth, taking in a deep breath of air that you hadn’t even realised was being kept from you, silence except for the sound of your panting.

Numb to the world around you, you hardly even felt real for the first ten seconds of laying there, feeling a few soft kisses peppering your forehead accompanied by a hand on your cheek.

“Hey now, come back to me..” Erik’s soft voice rang out, a small laugh following after it, finally starting to come back down to reality to see him looking down at you like he thought that state he’d left you in was hilarious.

You couldn’t form words, but he seemed to realise your eyes were focusing back in on him, his thumb running along your cheek as he tilted his head.

“You okay?” he whispered, watching you let out a small hum and a nod, one of your shaky hands coming up to grip his shoulder, almost in an attempt to ground yourself.

When you gave him another nodded, the hand that was on your cheek proceeded to give it a soft encouraging pat, a smile remaing on Erik’s face as he sat back and gripped your hips.

“Can I fuck you princess? Is that what you want?”

His question had you biting your lip as you looked up at him, the way his hands rubbed the tops of thigh’s slowly and softly, his own little way of keeping you grounded and comforted, seeking out permission from you before he went any further, that was the Erik that had always taken care of you, even if from a respectful distance.

“Please..” was the first word you’d managed to get out, your voice slightly croaky but clear enough that he definitely understood, causing him to let out a low groan at just how pathetically you begged for it.

With the jeans that were already undone, it hadn’t taken him much effort to pull them down to his knees, his grey boxers leaving nothing to the imagination as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, your bottom lip being caught between your teeth as soon as you saw the length and size you were about to be working with.

The only way you could have been described in that moment was a bitch in heat, desperate and needy in a way that couldn’t be described in words.

Then as if you weren’t already cock hungry enough, even just from seeing the tattooed barb wire on his v-line, or the dark hair creepy out of the boxers and up towards his belly button; As he pulled himself out and lazily pumped himself, your mouth fell open, the whimper leaving your throat being so pathetic that you were almost ashamed.

Looking down at his own cock, Erik let out a throaty laugh, continuing to continued to slowly drag his hand up and down his shaft when he looked back up at you, realising what it was that had constituted the noise from you.

“You like it?” he teased, running his thumb over the top of the thick curved barbell, letting you stare at it for a few more seconds before he put a hand on your knee.

“You want it?” he asked, his hand gliding down to rest on your hip.

When you nodded, he smiled and lifted your hips, turning you over slowly so that your ass was up in the air, your cheek coming to rest snugly against the sheets as he placed his hand flat inbetween your shoulder blades to push your upper body down.

“That’s it, I’ve got you..” he reassured, his hand coming to glide over your ass cheek, admiring the view for a few sweet seconds, letting you enjoy the feeling of a soft touch against your skin, at least for a few seconds.

**THWACK**

You were lucky your face was in the sheets, otherwise the sound of you crying out would have been audible throughout the whole house, the sharp pain of Erik’s hand coming down to spank you barely even registering before he was sending another one down on your skin.

The kicking of your legs was futile, the whimpers leaving your throat seeming to produce little mercy from Erik as he let down one more harsh smack, just as you felt his tip starting to run up and down your entrance, the cold metal of his piercing making you jump.

“You gonna let me fuck this pussy? Huh?” he grunted, making a point to push just his tip inside you, barely even penetrating you to begin with. “Gonna let me fill it up with my cum? You gonna take it all?”

His words, along with the unbearable teasing, had you pushing your ass back against him, desperate for him to push himself deeper inside you, only for him to back away each time you tried to your dismay, a desperate whimper emerging from your throat each time.

“Pretty baby wants dick so bad..” he cooed, almost as if he genuinely felt sorry for you, but you both knew better, the more you were begging for him, the better it was.

Not as harshly as he had pushed his fingers inside you, Erik gripped your hips, pushing himself in at a fast enough speed that had you gasping, but didn’t hurt by any means, telling you that beneath the show he was putting on, he still was making sure not to hurt you, at least not in a way that you didn’t want him to.

Your gasp was quickly offset with a soft cry, your eyes squeezing shut as his cock invaded your insides, pushing through without resistance as your wetness let him glide inside fairly easily.

It was a little bit of a push before Erik finally sunk inside you completely, when his hips finally made contact with your ass, bottoming out with a deep groan that had him tipping his head back and shutting his eyes.

“Fuuuuck..” he groaned, you could feel the way his grip on your hips tightened, along with the way his cock twitched inside you; just as much as you could feel him fighting back his instinct to move, fighting back his desire to pound into you with no mercy until you were ready.

“Just..” he breathed “Tell me when I can start moving princess..”

The way he was able to switch back and forth between cruel and caring was just so painfully Erik, just as it always was with him, one minute he’d act like he was bothered by your very presence, then you’d give him those same puppy dog eyes and he’d be left unable to say no to you.

Turning your head and straining your neck to look back at him, your mouth hung open for a few moments as you let yourself finish getting used to the stretch, as well as the feeling of his piercing tickling right against that sweet spot inside you, every time he moved in the slightest it sent lighting through you, unable to hide your whimpers.

Opening your eyes back up, you gave him a nod, preparing yourself for what was no doubt going to be a brutal pace that he was about to set.

He started out slow, giving you a chance to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, gradually gathering up speed which only made your moans grow louder, giving you no choice but you let your face fall back against the sheets to make sure it was muffled, eventually he was pistoning inside you, a concentrated rhythm being followed as he gripped your hips so tightly it stung.

Risking a look back, you turned your head only to be greeted by the sight of Erik thrusting into you, staring down at the sight of himself coming in and out of you as his mouth hung open, low groans and grunts leaving his chest.

As if he had felt your eyes on him, Erik looked up, meeting your gaze which only seemed to stir him further, biting his lip as he leaned forward and reached to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back and stare up at the wall, letting him fuck you so hard no sound was even coming out of you anymore, just leaving your mouth hanging open and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“Thaaaats it.. fucking take it like a dirty fucking cockslut…” his words sounded just as desperate as you had previously, breathed out and slightly higher pitched in a way that told you he was feeling it all just as much as you were. “Fuck, fuck, wanted to have you like this for so long… wanted you on my bed spread out just like this..”

Memories of touching yourself just to the very idea of something like this happening came flooding in, laying there in your bed back at home and closing your eyes and picturing Erik in your head, wondering if he ever thought about you in the way you thought about him.

Now here you were getting confirmation that he’d wanted you for just as long as you’d wanted him, years of frustration and pining finally being thrown out of the window as you were actually there, bent over for him and letting him fuck you like a whore, pent up urges years in the making fuelling the way he jack hammered into you.

“Shit.. turn over..” he grunted, pulling out of you and gripping your shoulder in his hand to flip you onto your back before you could even compute what he was asking you. “Need to see those eyes..”

Letting Erik manhandle you into whatever position he wanted, you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your head to get a glimpse of him lining himself back up, unable to stop your legs from shivering and your mouth falling open with a whine when you pushed his cock back inside you.

Bringing you gaze back up to where he was kneeling above you, you stared into each others eyes, making a point to put on those same puppy dog eyes that got him every time, feeling him begin to fuck you noticeably harder when you looked up at him.

“Fuck.. yes.. look at me..” he groaned, his hands coming to rest on the backs of your knees, pushing to where your knees were almost touching your shoulders, folding you in a way that allowed for a whole new angle, unable to hide the way your face contorted and your brows turned upwards.

Your head tipped back, soft cries being the only sound you were capable of making anymore, so completely and totally fucked out to the point that you could hardly even form any proper thoughts.

A hand came to rest on your cheek, your head coming forward and your eyes opening again to see Erik looking right in the verge himself just as you were, his eyes staring down at you intensely as he seemed to be chasing your gaze.

“Please don’t stop looking at me..” he begged, the dominant nature he had taken on previously becoming replaced by the unbearable urge to cum, chasing his release desperately.

The way you were gripping at each other, your hands coming up to rest on either side of his face, you silence each other in the form of a kiss, Erik’s moans into your mouth seeming to be exactly what was needed to push you over the edge, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried out, tucking your face in his neck as you began to pulse, soaking his dick and squeezing it tightly in a way that had his thrusts turning shallow, barely even pulling out of you before he was pushing back in.

Your hand found its way to the back of his head, tangling your fingers into the tufts of dark hair and gripping whatever you could as you practically sobbed against his shoulder, your legs shaking as your pussy squeezed him.

Pulling on his hair and cumming around his cock proved to be exactly what was needed to push Erik over the edge he’d been chasing, feeling his thrusts stiffen and stop and start randomly as he painted your walls with cum, starting to leak out of you already.

His moans we’re high pitched, his hips going from ramming against your own to softly and slowly rolling deeply, riding out his orgasm bit by bit as you felt his body starting to give way, letting him collapse on top of you and into your arms.

Each time his hips moved again the slightest bit, you whimpered, gripping his hair again and squeezing his hips with your legs, still highly sensitive from the way he’d been mercilessly fucking you only moments ago.

You had no idea how long you both laid there on his bed, letting his thick cum leak out of you as he sat inside you, resting his forehead on your chest and panting deeply, trying to come down from his high before you both felt even semi conscious again.

When it finally felt real again, like you had floated back down into your physical bodies once again, you looked at Erik and couldn’t fight back the smile that made its way onto your features, apparently contagious as Erik let out a soft laugh and leaned forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss, the sudden movement making you whimper against his lips that had him pulling back suddenly.

“Shit, sorry.” he wheezed, pushing his weight off of you and slowly pulling his now soft dick out of you with a sharp hiss through his teeth.

Pulling his grey boxers back over his hips, he moved back down to lay next to you on his back, turning his head to look over at you and reaching out to slowly pull you against him, letting you rest your head on his chest.

“I’ve got you..” he whispered, letting you lay there and recover slowly but surely, letting your eyes open and close softly as the exhaustion finally started to claim you.

When you shut your eyes, you didn’t even realise you’d fallen asleep until you woke up to a hand on your face, having now been tucked into the covers while Erik got up and fetched a washcloth from the bathroom.

“Shh..shh, it’s okay, it’s just me..” he whispered when you’d fussed softly, running his thumb along your cheek and letting you open your eyes slowly to see him standing there.

You let him clean you off softly, feeling him take care to be as gentle as he could before discarding the cloth and pulling a pair of his own sweat pants and shirt over you while you faded in and out of consciousness.

Finally as he crawled back into bed with you, you didn’t hesitate to roll back into his arms, feeling them wrap around you as a kiss was laid on the top of your head.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that..” he whispered against your temple as you clung to his body heat, letting him trace little shapes along your back with his finger tips.

“Just wish you hadn’t waited as long as you did..” you whispered back, a soft exhale of a laugh leaving him.

“Good things come to those who wait?” he offered up, only receiving a soft smack against his arm from you which only made him laugh more.

“Yeah, okay, I deserved that one.” he wheezed as he just pulled you closer against him, taking a deep inhale of your scent and exhaling with a satisfied hum.

“Hope you know that now that i’ve got you, i’m never letting you go.” his last words to you before you both started to fall asleep, snoring softly in each others arms in his bed, something you’d both waited almost four years to do, finally happening here and now.

[uhuhmaries]

Talk | H.S. — LHH

Harry’s your ex. You’ve been broken up for a full year but man…. A reunion never felt so good.

It’s your friend who notices him first.

You’re mid-laugh, clutching a half-empty tequila shot and feeling light from the salt, lime, and whatever it was she whispered in your ear—when her body tenses beside you.

Your laugh trails off, and you follow her gaze.

And there he is.

Harry.

The same Harry you’ve tried to scrub from your memories over the past year. Only now, he looks worse—better—than ever. Long hair curled at the ends. Broad shoulders stretching the seams of a black button-up. A few buttons undone, revealing the top of his chest and that stupid butterfly tattoo you used to trace with your tongue. Rings glint on his fingers. A drink in his hand. His other arm hangs loose at his side, inked and tensed, like he could crush steel if he wanted.

He’s already looking at you.

Your stomach twists. You inhale through your nose and lift your chin.

Smile. Cool. Unbothered.

But he starts walking over, and Maddie—your friend leans in close. “Shit. He’s coming.”

“I see that,” you mutter, downing the rest of your drink for courage.

Harry stops right in front of you. He doesn’t say anything for a beat. Just lets his gaze roam—slow, greedy, infuriating. You feel every inch of it like heat sliding up your spine.

Your black dress doesn’t help. Tight, short, clinging in all the places you know he used to worship. You wore it to feel hot tonight. Now it just feels dangerous.

He smirks. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You lift a brow. “Didn’t expect to care.”

His smirk fades—just a little. “Still stubborn as ever.”

You turn to face him fully. “Still arrogant.”

Harry looks at you for a long time. Really looks. His voice drops low. “You haven’t changed.”

You lick your lips. They’re dry. “You have?”

“I went to therapy.”

Your heart kicks. You swallow. “Good for you.”

He tilts his head. “You didn’t.”

You smile. Sharp. “Never will.”

He huffs out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”

You hate that he still gets under your skin. That one look from him can turn your insides to static.

He leans in a little closer. “You look good.”

You shrug, glancing down his chest like it’s nothing. “So do you.”

But you both know it’s not nothing.

And later, after more tequila, more side-glances, more of Maddie’s not-so-subtle glares, you find yourself outside, fresh air trying to cool the ache inside your chest—and between your legs.

The door behind you opens.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

He stops beside you. Silent for a moment. The night is warm, but his presence still makes your skin prickle.

“I know you don’t want to talk,” he says softly.

You stare ahead. “Good. Then don’t.”

He hums, a low, dry sound. “You gonna keep pretending we didn’t look at each other all night like we wanted to fuck against the bar?”

You glance at him. “That what you want?”

His eyes flash. “It’s what you want too.”

You don’t respond. But your silence is loud.

He steps closer. “You want me to wreck you so you can forget all the shit you never say out loud. That it?”

You clench your jaw.

“You want to pretend it’s just sex. It never is with us.”

You turn to face him, stepping right into his space. He doesn’t move back.

“You want to talk about feelings,” you murmur, “I want to come so hard I forget yours.”

His mouth twitches. “Still such a brat.”

“And you’re still obsessed.”

He leans down, nose brushing yours. “Get in the car.”

You hesitate for half a second.

Then you do.

The second the door shuts behind you, his hands are on your hips, mouth finding yours with years of hunger behind it. He kisses you like he’s punishing you for leaving. For never changing. For not being ready. For not being him.

You moan into his mouth. Bite his lower lip. Tug his curls.

He groans. “You wore that dress to fuck with me.”

You grin. “You always were easy.”

He grabs your thighs and yanks you into his lap. “Say that again.”

You grind your hips against his, gasping when you feel how hard he already is through his jeans. Your lips brush his ear.

“You’re hard for me and I haven’t even touched you yet,” you whisper.

Harry’s hands slide under your dress, rings cold on your thighs. “You think you’re in control?”

You lean back. “Aren’t I?”

And then he slides two fingers into your panties. Just like that.

Your breath stutters.

He feels it. Smirks. “Soaked.”

You try not to whimper when his fingers start circling your clit. Slow. Torturous.

“You’re already dripping for me and I haven’t even eaten you out.”

“Harry—”

“No.” His fingers stop. “Say what you want.”

“I want you,” you pant.

“Not enough.”

You grind against his palm. “I want your mouth. Your cock. I want to be ruined, okay?”

He lifts you suddenly, pushes you back onto the seat, and kneels between your legs.

“Still don’t know how to say you miss me,” he mutters, “but you’re happy to beg to be fucked.”

He licks up your thigh—slow, deliberate.

“Maybe if I make you come on my tongue, you’ll find your words.”

He goes down on you like he’s missed the taste every night for a year. Tongue deep. Fingers rubbing just right. You cry out, hands yanking his curls, grinding against his face as he eats you like he needs it to breathe.

You’re close. So close—

And he stops.

“No—”

“You wanna come?” he growls. “You talk.”

You glare down at him, thighs shaking. “I need you. Please. I missed you.”

He grabs a condom, tears it open, rolls it on.

“Good girl.”

He slams into you hard and fast and you both moan at the first thrust. His hips roll, precise and filthy, filling you just the way he always did—like he knows your body better than you do.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Harry—harder—”

He grips your throat. Tight enough to make you gasp. Not enough to scare you. Just enough to say you’re mine.

“You gonna listen now?” he hisses.

You nod desperately, back arching. “Yes—yes, I’ll listen, please, please—”

His thrusts get harder, meaner. You’re almost crying.

Then he pulls out. Rips off the condom. Tosses it aside.

“Harry—what the fuck—?”

“I want to feel you. All of you.”

You freeze. Blink. You should say no.

But instead you whisper, “Yes.”

He thrusts back in—bare—and it’s like your body splits open. Raw. Skin to skin. Nothing between you.

You both groan. Loud. Uncontrolled.

He growls in your ear. “You’ve never felt like this.”

You sob his name.

He flips you, face pressed into the seat, ass up, his hand smacking you once, twice.

You whine. “More—”

He spanks you again, hand then sliding up your back, curling around your neck as he pounds into you, the car rocking with every thrust.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you need me.”

You’re almost delirious. “I need you. I need you, Harry—fuck—”

“You coming for me?”

“Yes—oh my God—yes—”

And when you come, it’s messy and loud and full of everything you never say out loud.

He follows seconds after, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep and spills inside you—hot, thick, and claiming—your name breaking from his throat in a low, desperate groan against your skin.

You sit in silence after. Breathing hard. Still shaking.

Harry pulls his shirt back on. Looks at you.

“I still love you.”

You stare at the ceiling. “Don’t do this.”

“I want us again.”

You sigh. “You’ve changed.”

He nods. “Yeah. I have.”

You meet his eyes. “But I haven’t.”

He exhales. Nods again. “You could try.”

You give him a tired smile. “Maybe.”

But you both know it’s a lie.

You’ll see him again.

You always do.

[moonlight-lillies]

you asked for kpdh requests yes? I-- anything with Abby. please i need more of this man, anything with this man.

there's more?! a lot of people fail to realize that there are other monsters in this realm. thank you for your submission! (idk why this took so long, i couldn't think of anything :[, but i got a random wave of creativity!) abs saja (ahn beomseok) x reader! CW: gave abs saja a real name, pure fluff, drabble!, ghost!reader

when you have lived a good life, you die. it's as simple as that. some fall into despair and look for ways to get revenge on those that have wronged them. others, like yourself, are content with how you lived your life.

ghosts are often overshadowed by the demons and the hunters, both having something to fight for; but ghosts, they just live the rest of their life as someone who gets to watch everything unfold.

you wouldn't have met beomseok if you hadn't died. it's a dramatic thing to say, but it is true. you died in 1912, beom sold his soul in 1809, and he was the first demon you met. it was love at first sight.

there are many different dynamics of couples in the monster realm. there's the typical werewolf and vampire, and the ghoul and soul-eater, but ghost and demon was a bit rarer. ghosts rarely invaded the human world, but with watching your boyfriend work to destroy the honmoon, you made sure you were at every concert and promotion.

possession wasn't common but for beom, you would do anything. and he would do anything for you.

sitting at a shrine, looking out at the desolate paths, you both didn't say anything. presence was enough. you had taken your 'idyllic' form, a term basically used for when you're not able to walk through walls.

beom just looked at you, lips parted, but no words formed.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." you deadpanned. tucking your hair behind your ear.

"have you ever thought about what a ghost idol group would look like?" he always did have the weirdest way of saying whatever was on his mind.

"have you ever thought of a jpop ghost idol group?" you responded, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"dope..." he said, nodding his head.

you laid your head on his chest, taking in the night air. beom's hand fiddled with your fingers, some of them popping. he looked down at you, to everyone else he was an untouchable idol, to you he was your other half.

he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"i know i'm not, like, romantical all the time, but i really love you." he breathed out. his eyes meeting yours.

"i know you do." you sat up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up from the bench.

you faced each other, hands interlocked, eyes never leaving each others. you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. his lips found your forehead, then your cheek, your nose, and then your lips.

you loved when he did that.

a big whirlwind of air sprouted beneath the two of you. leaves and sticks where pushed away as a crack of thunder was heard. but beom didn't move, he pushed himself into you more.

the light headedness wasn't only from the kiss, it was from what was happening around you. the life was sucked from flowers and small sparks of pink danced around hedges. you held onto his shoulders to ground yourself, the patterns that ran up his arms and neck pulsating under his shirt.

it was so dramatic, so romantic, but it was how you knew you two loved each other.

he didn't want to let you go, you didn't want to be let be go.

when you reluctantly pulled apart, there he was in his hanbok. all black, his patterns shining. you looked down, noting the white cloak you now wore, your eyes a pure white, skin glistening.

he offered his arm, the two of you in the forms that you fell in love with. you happily took it.

walking off into a realm far from here.

fin.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I need Bruce trying to gentle parent Dick as a child. Like maybe Bruce isn’t exactly a good parent but tries. When Dick starts throwing massive tantrums, he just puts Dick in an empty room for time out. This does not stop Dick as he ends up destroying the room despite nothing being in it. When Dick does something Bruce doesn’t approve of, Bruce just says softly “Don’t do that.” Dick does it again. Like I need him trying and failing. Nothing he does works. Then Dick decides to turn that gentle parenting back on Bruce. No whenever Bruce makes him mad, he puts Bruce in a time-out room. Whenever Bruce is being dumb, he just gives him a pout and says “Don’t do that.” Bruce actually does his best to listen to Dick because he thinks it might foster trust or encourage Dick to follow along when Bruce does it to him. It doesn’t really work. Dick still doesn’t listen and now Bruce is being parented by the child he’s supposed to be raising. The only plus is that it calms down Dick’s more violent urges because instead of destroying shit he just sends Bruce away.

Then Dick gets shot, and something in Bruce snaps. There is no more gentle parenting, no more kind words or soft punishments. He needs to make Dick listen, and if that means hurting him, then so be it. He loses sight of the fact that Dick is still a kid, an incredibly traumatized one at that. He still lets Dick parent him, although he’s more snappy about it. Dick stops being soft with him, too, instead telling him harshly to get to bed, threatening to sic Alfred on him, or screaming in his face about how he’s the worst. Somehow they’ve fallen into this horrible dynamic and neither of them know how to get out of it. Dick blames himself for being such a troubled kid, and though Bruce never says it, Dick knows he blames him too. So Dick leaves.

Eventually, over the years their family grows, but Bruce’s softness never really comes back. He’s meaner, more controlling, even downright cruel at times. And one day when the entire batfam is arguing with him over how unreasonable he is, one them snaps and says “Jesus, B, who turned you into such a fucking asshole?” and before Bruce can even think about it, he responds “Dick did.” He closes his mouth in shock, face going ashen while everyone else freezes. The words cut straight into Dick’s heart. He replies with the only words he can think of at the moment “Don’t do that.” He meant for the words to be cold, confident. Instead they came out soft, chiding and pained. Before anyone can say anything else, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves. They all try to follow him to argue more but then stare, confused, as he walks into an empty room, locking the door behind him. He doesn’t come out for a long time.

🥺 rip out my fucking heart why don’t you, damn.

But now I’m just thinking of the scenario with Bruce saying Dick turned him into an asshole, and the whole room freezes.

Jason didn’t expect an actual answer. Tim and Damian thought Bruce would have just chided Jason for his language. Dick thought a Bruce was just going to keep yelling.

But then the way he says, “Dick did” without even thinking about it, without hesitation, it shocks everyone.

And Dick feels like he wants to cry, because sure, he knew he was a pretty fucked up kid. He was troubled. Traumatized. A problem child. But Bruce for the most part had been so patient when he was little. And when Bruce started being an asshole after Dick got shot, it wasn’t like Dick couldn’t fight right back. It was almost like a game, sometimes. But Dick has always felt so guilty about it, because Bruce had been so soft spoken and patient and nice, and then Dick went and fucked him up. Dick ruined him. It’s all Dick’s fault.

Dick has always had that thought in the back of his mind. But he’s never had any real proof that Bruce felt the same.

Now he does. And Dick’s chest feels hollow as he stares at a horrified looking Bruce.

All Dick can manage to say is a soft, desperate, “Don’t do that,” just like Bruce always tried to use with him, before he started using yelling as his go-to response.

Then Bruce turns without saying anything and walks right into an empty room, and Dick feels like he’s going to throw up. He turns too, towards his bike, and he ignores the way his siblings are calling after him. He turns off his comms and rides home, going way too fast, feeling the wind whip around him, and tears blurring his vision until he blinks them away.

When he gets back to his Blüdhaven apartment, he slides in through the window and doesn’t even change out of his costume before he’s puking in the bathroom.

He silences his phone, turns in his security system, and then spends the next hour sitting under the water in his shower, spacing out until the water goes ice cold and he has to get out. Then he crawls into bed, pulls out Zitka from under the pillows to hug to his chest, and buries his head under his pillows. If he doesn’t pay attention to it, he can pretend he’s not still crying because of the guilt.

He stays like that for a long time, not moving. He falls asleep for a while, wakes up in a panic, rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the next thing he knows, someone is sitting down on his bed next to him, laying a hesitant hand in his back. And he knows it’s Bruce, and it just makes him feel even worse.

“Go away,” he begs, the words muffled under his pillows.

“I didn’t mean it,” Bruce tries to tell him.

“Yes you did,” Dick says miserably. “And it’s true. I know it’s true, you don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“It wasn’t you who made me an asshole,” Bruce says. “The situation-”

“Caused by me,” Dick argues.

“You were just a child, Dick.” Bruce sighs.

“A horrible, no good, rotten child!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Bruce says firmly. “It’s not true, Dick. I don’t care what anyone says, you were not a rotten child. You were just a little boy. I was the adult, and I should have found other solutions that worked for you.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but he eventually moves out from under the pillows to curl up with his head in Bruce’s lap. Bruce plays with his hair, and the two of them stay quiet for a long time. Neither of them really knows what to say. They’re both still upset. And they’re both awful at dealing with their feelings.

The sadness and anger and guilt they’re feeling from this fight won’t be resolved. They won’t really talk about it. It won’t be talked about without someone else bringing it up, and that won’t happen for a while.

But for now, Bruce is going to comfort his son. And for now, Dick will let him.

[finniestoncrane]

You know what I'll bite first(?)

I want reader to convince Hector to let them care for him instead in the bedroom tonight and it's basically a mix of body worship and general praise while jerking him off

Hector x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ooooooooh ok i had to write this, he was living in my brain and skittering around in my pipes up there!! i've not finished his storyline yet, so no spoilers for me please!! but i know regardless of what happens next, he deserves a bit of praise and pleasure >:3c request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: a lot of praise for this boy, body worshipping, masturbation/handjobs, tiny bit of hair pulling, pre-ejac, little bit of yandere dialogue because it's hector...

"You told me you couldn't relax for yourself, so please, please let me help you. You need to learn to embrace your body. That way, I can embrace it too."

Hector's heart skipped a beat at the emphasis on your pleading, and he found himself unable to catch his breath in enough time to respond. Instead, he let himself be pushed back towards the bed in your room, sinking down into it as the back of his legs hit the edge.

"Good boy, Hector. This is the first step to changing how you see yourself. Let me show you how I see you."

The bed shifted as you sat down next to him, hand on his chest as you gently pushed him backwards, waiting until he was laying down, his dark curls resting on the pillows, before you began to stroke your fingers through his hair, twirling the locks around your fingers and hoping to soothe him. But he was still nervous, enough that he began to tug at your sheets, trying to hide himself with them out of his instinctual urge to conceal the things that he disliked so much.

"No, no. Don't cover yourself up. I want to see all of you."

"Are you sure? I still find it so hard to believe that someone as magnificent as yourself would be interested in any aspect of me."

"Really? When you're so handsome, and so sexy. I'm almost angry that you'd hide yourself away for so long, Hector. Seems wrong to keep this a secret."

It was all he could do to keep his smile from widening, but he'd warmed up to you so quickly that it was impossible to hide himself from you. And you were determined to keep things moving in that direction, so positive reinforcement was required. Luckily, you knew now how he worked, and you were able to pull the sheets away, uncovering his body and noting the slight tenting of his cock underneath his clothes. It was distracting, but not more so than his satisfied grin.

"Such a sweet smile, it makes your eyes light up. Your cheeks are so warm, so cute. And your lips, so soft... so welcoming."

"Only for you..."

Each milimetre of the tiny distance between you was tension filled and wrought with a dire need that was immediately turned to passionate satisfaction once the kiss begun. Hector was content to lay back and let you take over, offering no resistance as you deepend the kiss, and even less when your hands began to travel down his front and to the stirring below his waist. Your fingers teased below the material, skimming over the skin above his erection, feeling the contrasted texture of his thick, black pubic hair. And as the kiss broke off, Hector struggling to catch his breath, you let your lips follow his soft jaw line to his neck, your pecks and the gentle nips of your teeth interspersed with words that amounted to yet more compliments.

"I know you've felt so comfortable behind the security of the grate, but I need you, Hector. More than you could imagine, more than I think you're willing to accept. But I can show you. Let me heat you up for a change, I want to see your skin flushing, that sparkle in your eyes."

His cock was freed now, and it protruded into the air as you wrapped your fingers around the length. Average, but thick, and just a few shades darker than his perfectly clear skin. You leaned your head against him, angling your view to watch the way your hand fit so perfectly around his length. Hector shuddered, stuttering out something, but you assuaged whatever concerns he was fabricating.

"You've given me so much, all of those years, unappreciated. Now I want to pay you back, it's only right."

Your gentle strokes firmed up, quicker movements as your determination took over. You wanted him to be happy, to see him satisfied, relieved, and to at least offer him something physical in the way of evidence of your attraction to him. With your tempo set, you kept up the motions, noting that Hector's hips began to shift, pushing his cock upwards into your fist as his body squirmed slightly against the mattress.

"I'm... This is... Wow..."

With a giggle, you whispered against his skin, still loud enough that he could hear you past his own hushed whimpers.

"That sense of contentment? Of pure joy? you deserve that. You work so hard to make me happy, and I think you deserve the same back ten-fold."

"I live to please you. I ask for nothing in return. Your pleasure is just as ah... ah..."

Your other hand reached for his balls, cupping them before gently squeezing.

"All of that time you spent watching me, I think it's fair that I get to see you as you reach complete ecstacy, too, no?"

As Hector let out a sigh of relief, his body giving in finally to the looming and certain orgasm that was beginning to wash over him. A little coaxing was all it would take to get him to finally let go of the last of his tensions.

"All that stress, the nerves, your worries and concerns about how I'll perceive you? I'm going to make them all... go... away."

It sounded like a stifled groan, a strangled sound that he was trying to cover up. And you weren't having that.

"I want to hear your sweet voice, Hector. Your moans, your sighs, your screams."

Hector's stomach was tensing, the slight hint of muscles below the softness of his stomach as he clenched in response to his quickening climax. Each stroke of your fist down the shaft of his cock had him quivering, and you relished in the view of his body that you had from this perfect position. One of his hands rested in your hair, occasionally gripping at the root as he became overwhelmed with arousal. Even without the firm placement of his palm against you, there was no way you would have lifted your head from his chest. From there you could see your own hand working, pumping at his twitching cock, his precum leaking, dribbling from his head down to the visible frenulum as you pulled back his foreskin with your movements. And as you watched his body react to your stimulation, you could hear his heart beat thudding in his chest against your ear.

You were worried for a moment when his gentle whining turned into a sharp shriek, concerned that in your distractions you might have become to firm or too quick. But as you felt the warm, yet quickly cooling, liquid begin to drip over your fingers, you understood.

"Ah... I, I've ruined it. A moment so perfect, so pure. I'm so sorry. Faced with your charitable gesture, the idea that you would be so willing to help me seek the same satisfaction as I've helped you with so many times... Well, my excitement got the better of me. Yet another reason that you could do far better in-"

"Did it feel good?"

He paused his nerve driven rambling, all desire to self-flagellate superceded by his need to offer you an answer when one was asked of him.

"Of course! It was marvellous. For all that I've dreamt of how your hands might feel on my body, it was better than I ever could have guessed."

When it seemed as though he might start apologising again for something that in truth you found flattering, quite endearing to his adorably desperate nature, you placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

"Then there's nothing to apologise for, Hector. We both got what we wanted."

You lay your head next to his on your pillow, watching his eyes scan the room, as if he were looking for the final bit of confidence to say what he said next.

"In that case... perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask if I could lay here a while longer. I could warm you in a more manual manner than either of us are accustomed to."

Hector lifted his arm, offering you the space between that and his chest, and you willingly dove into it, wrapping your arms around his body and settling in with a sigh.

[aervera]

Built To Break

synopsis. after nearly losing you on the battlefield, gojo struggles with what was left unsaid— contents. angst to fluff. mentions of blood and injury, mentions of dying.

MASTERLIST

the static in your ears hasn’t settled, not even after they carried you back.

your body is numb in parts that should never be, stitched clumsily by shoko while she muttered curses under her breath. the battlefield is long gone—left somewhere behind smoke and rubble and the sound of your own screams—but the chill of it remains, settling in your bones.

you don’t know how long you’ve been awake, only that the lights are too bright and the silence is too loud.

the door opens without a knock. of course it does.

gojo steps inside, fingers twitching by his sides, that usual cocky tilt to his mouth absent for once.

he sees you.

you see him.

he’s not wearing his blindfold. you wish he were. his eyes—ice-blue, frantic, storming—feel like too much all at once.

you try to sit up. “gojo—”

“don’t.”

he’s at your side in two long strides. you flinch when he reaches for you—he notices, freezes.

you’re quick to shake your head. “no, it’s not— i just… my ribs. still tender.”

he swallows visibly, his fingers curling inward, stopping just short of your hospital blanket. like touching you might make you vanish.

“you almost died, y/n.”

you laugh dryly, wincing at your own voice. “thanks for the update, doctor gojo.”

“don’t joke.” his voice cracks. “don’t ever joke about that again.”

you look at him. really look.

there’s blood on his collar. dried. not yours.

you whisper, “i didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“you think i haven’t seen worse?”

you avoid his gaze. “it’s different when it’s me.”

he doesn’t respond to that—not at first.

you shift slightly, grimacing at the twinge in your abdomen, and that’s when you notice how tightly his hands are clenched.

knuckles white.

breath shallow.

a slow, simmering anger behind his silence.

“y/n,” he starts, and you’ve heard him serious before—during missions, during death announcements, during curses that never should’ve existed—but this is different.

this is personal.

“why didn’t you say h-how bad it was?”

your throat dries up.

you blink at him, lips parting, but no words come.

he scoffs quietly, but it’s more of a broken exhale than a laugh. “you were bleeding out. you—god, you collapsed after that last technique and didn’t even let anyone get close to you until it was too late.”

“i didn’t want to be a burden—”

“don’t you dare.” his voice cuts sharp. “don’t you ever call yourself a burden.”

you’re stunned into silence.

gojo paces, runs a hand through his snow-white hair, stops just by the window like he needs space or air or both. then, like gravity’s too much, he drops into the chair beside you. elbows on knees. head in hands.

“…you always push through the pain,” he says after a long beat. “you always smile like it doesn’t hurt. like you’ve got something to prove.”

“i do,” you whisper.

his gaze flicks up. “to who?”

your lip trembles, and you hate that he sees it. “everyone.”

“you don’t need to prove anything to me,” he murmurs. “i already know how strong you are. you could rip my heart out, y/n.”

you laugh softly, then wince again.

gojo leans forward. “i mean it. you didn’t have to almost die to show me how brave you are. i already know.”

your eyes sting.

the tears that come feel foreign, like your body’s finally realizing it survived something it shouldn’t have.

“…i was scared,” you admit.

gojo moves instantly—kneels by your bedside, his large hand cupping your cheek with a reverence that nearly undoes you.

“you should’ve told me that too.”

“i didn’t want you to worry.”

“i always worry.”

you glance down at his hand. his thumb is rubbing soft circles into your cheek now, like muscle memory.

“you know,” he says, trying to smile, “if you die, i’ll have to kill you.”

you giggle wetly. “that makes no sense.”

“i don’t care.” he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “so next time, let me carry you before you break. let me worry in advance. let me be there, y/n.”

“you already are.”

“but not enough,” he says, and the pain in his voice makes your chest twist. “not if you’re still hiding how much it hurts.”

you reach up, fingers curling into his soft hair. “i didn’t think you’d handle seeing me weak.”

“y/n,” he whispers, “you’re not weak. you’ve never been.”

there’s a beat of silence, the kind that says everything words can’t.

then he murmurs, almost shyly, “when i thought i lost you—i… i lost my damn mind.”

you tilt your head. “gojo—”

“i’m not good at this.” he exhales shakily. “but i love you, and i need you to stop acting like that’s something that’ll weigh you down. you can lean on me. please.”

you feel the last of your resolve melt into his warmth.

you smile through your tears.

“…you’ll still love me even if i look like shit?”

he snorts. “y/n, you look like a raccoon who fought a blender. i still want to kiss you stupid.”

you laugh again, louder this time.

then softer, sincerely: “i love you too, gojo.”

his grin returns, faint but real, like the sun rising through stormclouds.

“yeah?” he says.

“yeah.”

“cool. now scoot over so i can lie beside you and make a big deal about your stitches.”

“you’ll hurt me.”

“i’ll hurt with you,” he corrects, easing into the space beside you like he belongs there. and he does.

you lean into his warmth, feeling—for the first time in what feels like forever—safe.