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leejenowrld · 5 months

Text

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

synopsis — campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter contents — explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play consensual choking, consensual slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!jeno, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides jeno, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in jeno at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!jeno, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, jeno sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, jeno and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, nct ‘00 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, jeno is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, jeno makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating jeno, sweetheart jeno, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, jeno takes reader home, boyfriend jeno (kinda), watch as jeno and oc fall in love, jeno always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak

authors note — happy birthday lee jeno <3 i love you. please interact and leave an ask or message mwah. also there will be a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up. also thank you my bae @jenolala for helping me with ideas and being my personal reader i love you.

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Lee Jeno. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.

Nayoung’s infatuation with Jeno has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of God among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

Lee Jeno was the craze around campus, and he had always been. He was apparently good in bed, a phenomenal lover with a big cock, smart, hot, handsome, and knew how to fuck and treat a girl right. He was social and friendly, outgoing, and everyone knew who he was and everyone loved him. But not you though. For you, it’s all just noise. You’re simply not interested in him.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her.

“I'm not even talking...” you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Jeno constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

“He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me,” Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Lee Jeno, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Jeno turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Lee Jeno carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

“We still on for tonight, baby?” Jeno's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says,

“Yes, I'll be waiting for you.” Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. “I'll be yours to play with all night long.”Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Lee Jeno has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Jeno’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Jeno and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Jeno and Nayoung, Donghyuck catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Renjun chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."

At Renjun's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your “personal choices” became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Jeno's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Jeno is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Jeno breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Renjun's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Donghyuck and Renjun's playful torment. Yet, Jeno's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.

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One day you’re gonna cut Lee Jeno’s cock off.

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the musical compositions you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Lee Jeno, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Jeno and his cock.

(Unfortunately)

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Jeno seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Jeno is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Jeno became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Jeno spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.

Jeno shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Jeno says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Jeno catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.

"Damn, that's cool," Jeno whispers. "What's she like?"

You gulp nervously, wondering why Lee Jeno wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Jeno chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing her major, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Jeno thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Jeno. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”

Jeno scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Jeno asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Jeno left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Jeno know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

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The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Jeno possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fucking, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Lee Jeno? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy with no heart, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! You’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Lee Jeno even asked for the name of your band."

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What you knew about Lee Jeno’s cock was against your own will.

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Jeno’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Jeno have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Jeno’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Jeno’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Jeno's sexual conquests.

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Jeno thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Jeno’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.

Nayoung goes back to praising Jeno for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Jeno. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"

You had never spoken a word to Lee Jeno in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Jeno, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Lee Jeno, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Eunji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Jeno closer is already in motion.

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Jeno received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Jeno enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Jeno eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Jeno's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Jeno strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Jeno spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you.

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Jeno spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.

In that fleeting moment, as Jeno's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Jeno, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Lee Jeno here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Jeno watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Jeno feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Jeno's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Jeno feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Jeno attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Jeno finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Jeno, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Jeno's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Eunji’s house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

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As Jeno steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.

As the conversation between you and Jeno progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Jeno, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Jeno leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Jeno continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Jeno’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Jeno’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Jeno's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Jeno looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Jeno, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.

As Jeno's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.

Jeno's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Jeno reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Jeno, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Jeno’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

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Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Jeno’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Nayoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body.

His breath hitches when he finally sees your tattoo, it really was identical to his. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in and presses his lips against the outline of your tattoo, tracing it with tantalizing kisses. His lips move slowly, sensually, as he explores every inch of the intricate design, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp as his tongue joins the dance, tracing the delicate lines of your tattoo with a teasing touch. Each stroke of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, igniting a fiery passion that consumes you both. In the heat of the moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue caressing your skin, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Jeno," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Jeno whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout.

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Jeno positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.

As Jeno pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Jeno,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”

Jeno’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Jeno ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

──────────────────────────────

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Jeno in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Jeno’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Jeno, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Jeno points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Jeno’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Jeno observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Jeno’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Jeno hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.

“Why did you start playing bass?” Jeno’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Jeno shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Jeno observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Ryujin,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Jeno’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Jeno shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Jeno have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Jeno's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jeno's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.”

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Jeno has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

──────────────────────────────

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Jeno consume your mind every time you close your eyes.

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Jeno's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Lee Jeno checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Lee Jeno’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Jeno left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Jeno fucked you in it all night long.”

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Jeno, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Jeno, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing more. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Jeno, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Jeno is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.

As Jeno adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Jeno!” He motions for him to come over.

As Jeno approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. His full name ‘Lee Jeno.’ was neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Jeno bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Jeno, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Jeno is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Jeno’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Jeno pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Jeno asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Jeno's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.

──────────────────────────────

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in —it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course you know who she is—someone in the year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Jeno fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Jeno and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.

──────────────────────────────

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Jeno," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Jeno-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Jeno strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jaemin, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Jeno who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Jeno’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Jeno since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Jeno you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Jeno, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Jeno and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Jeno, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Jeno. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Jeno wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Jeno walked in, accompanied by Jaemin. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Jeno turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Jeno, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Jeno. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.

After the lecture, you spot Jaemin lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jaemin was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Jeno’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Jeno weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jaemin approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jaemin says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jaemin continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Jeno’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jaemin’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jaemin continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jaemin walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Jeno could lead.

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The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Jeno standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jaemin’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Jeno you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Jeno greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Jeno,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Jeno’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Jeno’s words.

Jeno closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Jeno's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him… The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.

“Eric will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”

He smirks. “Close second.”

──────────────────────────────

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

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As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.

As Jaemin’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Jeno on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.

Jeno.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Jeno is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Jeno standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Jeno steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Jeno's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Jeno grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Jeno can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Jeno, Jeno," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Jeno's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Jeno’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Jeno holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Jeno aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Jeno’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Jeno

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”

Jeno’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Jeno’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

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Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Jeno’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Jeno’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Jeno chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Jeno chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck. Shotaro and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Donghyuck. “Donghyuck can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Renjun, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jaemin?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people

“I love Jaemin.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Jeno’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jaemin and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jaemin.

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Jeno chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jaemin entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jaemin’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Jeno with company. Jeno, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jaemin finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Jeno simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jaemin’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”

Some time passes and Jeno leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Jeno himself.

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.

As Jeno’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Jeno is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Jeno’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Jeno bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.

Does he realise how hot that was?

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Jeno fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen— Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Jeno’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Jeno, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Jeno chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Jeno’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Jeno’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Jeno offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.

Jeno reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”

Jeno sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Jeno’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Jeno’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Jeno leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jeno plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.

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You fidget with the hem of Jeno’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Jeno follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Jeno’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Jeno’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jaemin spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Donghyuck stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Renjun leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Jeno remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Jeno’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Jeno, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Jeno's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

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As the weeks pass, your interactions with Jeno become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out. You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Lee Jeno was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Jeno, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Jeno exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Jeno displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you.

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

──────────────────────────────

You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

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As time passed, Jeno’s friends became an integral part of your life, their presence a constant presence in your shared moments. You found yourself spending more and more time at his house, naturally integrating yourself into his circle of friends. Initially intimidating, you soon discovered that they had big hearts and welcomed you with open arms

Jeno also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.

Jeno exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Jeno are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Jeno are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Jeno to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, ‘Jeno, please touch me!’ in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Jeno’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Jeno.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting ‘higher’ over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Jen—”

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As you lay your head on Jeno’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Jeno with Arin.

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Jeno, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Jeno’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not?

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her.

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Jeno looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Jeno’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Jeno doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Jeno’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Jeno’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

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authors note thank you for reading :) hope you enjoyed, happy birthday to my love jeno <3 if you liked, pls interact, leave a message, ask, reblog, my dms on here are always open too so speak to me! i love meeting new ppl. there is a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up

tag list @apuppygirlfriend @babbymochiiii @actually-vl @mingiandbaconjam @nakamotai

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karinasbaby · 9 months

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — SURPRISE 이희승

"surprise, slip my panties to the side."

PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem!reader (+17)

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, drunk hee (for a bit), cursing, bondage (ropes & handcuffs), hee is a bit angry n feral, his mood changes suddenly but it’s ok <3, bj + hj, oral (f & m), face sitting, lots of teasing, edging, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, praising !, multiple rounds (?), bath sex in a way, thigh riding, morning sex, pls tell me if i missed any !

WORD COUNT. 9.3k :0

SYNOPSIS. jaeyun pitched you one of his “genius” plans to celebrate heeseung’s birthday— but how will heeseung take it?

A, NOTE. happy new year my loves !! i would greatly appreciate it if we all ignored the fact that this was supposed to be published on hee’s birthday <3 it took me an unnecessarily long time to write, but i hope u enjoy ! + pls check a, note part 2 and the end <3 (this is also proofread at 4 am so 🙏🏼)

red and blue lights scattered messily across your vision, the smell of intoxicating alcohol, tobacco and sweat infiltrating your senses leaving you slightly light headed, your fingertips grasped at the hem of your dress, situated around your thighs to pull the mini dress lower, eyes roaming desperately for the towering figure of your boyfriend,

your boyfriend, lee heeseung— the birthday boy who god knows where he is right now.

you took cautious footsteps once you began to surround the approaching mass of people, sweaty bodies dancing restlessly in each and every corner of the house whilst your gaze roamed, hands clammy with sweat from the lack of air, your lungs constricting as it got harder to breathe the longer you stayed among the crowded room,

“there you are!” a familiar voiced boomed behind you, a feeling of relief washing down once you recognised the loud voice over the deafening music, jaeyun approached you with a large smile gracing his face, brown strands untidily cascading down his features as his arm wrapped around your exposed shoulder, the other hand bringing his drink closer to his mouth,

“enjoying the party?” you questioned next to his ear, taking in the sight of the slightly tipsy man who was busy winking at a random girl across the room, “of course!” he quickly replied, catching your amused gaze with his twinkling one.

“i’m here to tell you about a surprise for heeseung,” he spoke, hand lowering from your shoulder to wrap around your waist as he led you away, “a surprise? i already have a gift for him though.” jake’s flushed face turned towards yours after he signalled the random girl to a different room, “i have a better idea.” he giggled

and whilst you were being walked out of the room, your eyes caught the sight of heeseung’s wet form out of the window, standing besides the pool as his other friends encouraged him to drink more while other figures jumped into the pool, the view of him being covered by nothing more than his dripping white button up shirt that carved all his chiseled muscles out along with a black tie hanging loosely around his neck made your head reel, thoughts rushed to your head when your gaze dropped lower to his flexing thighs beneath his black pants,

his clothing material all soaked due to his previous jump into the water, as a result of a stupid dare. you could hear his drunken laughter over the music as his face kept getting warmer, a soft blush adorning his sharp features due to the alcohol, his black locks sticking to his forehead contrasting his reddened skin,

“trust me, heeseung’s going to love it.” jake chuckled besides you, ultimately stealing your attention away as he opened the door to the guest room, the image of a pair of handcuffs along with a large rope was the least expected one in your mind, and once your confusing gaze landed on jaeyun’s smiling face, you began to doubt whatever his idea was,

should you trust jake?

you shouldn’t have trusted jake.

as trusting jake lead you to this current predicament, wearing a purple coloured lingerie beneath your feathery robe, "his favourtie colour" jaeyun's voice rang in your ears, the pair of handcuffs situated in your hand while the rope was in the other as you stared at heeseung’s shirtless passed out form with his tie around his neck, in your shared bed,

the party had ended hours ago, leaving you with a drunk, sleeping heeseung that currently seemed to be in a deep dream, lips partially opened as quiet snores left his mouth, evidently exhausted from the events of tonight,

your footsteps light as you stepped deeper into the bedroom, the wood quietly creaking beneath you while your gaze was fixated on heeseung’s form between the satin sheets, chest heaving upwards softly to allow short pants of his breath to escape,

countless thoughts ran through your head as your eyes kept scanning his body in the dim lighting of the room, should you proceed? what if he wakes up in the middle of everything? what if he doesn’t enjoy it?

throughout the duration of your dilemma the only thought that circled your mind continuously was the possibility of heeseung enjoying this night, jaeyun— his best friend, would never set you up for failure would he? never.

and with the prominent thought of this night becoming a memorable one for heeseung, you decided to continue.

opting on inhaling in a deep breath, you inched closer towards the bed till you moved atop his body, legs carefully caging around his waist whilst your shaky hands wrapped around his wrists, thankfully heeseung had his arms behind his head, ultimately making the situation easier for you to mend,

with caution, you wrapped the iron material around his wrists, the soft click of the cuffs increasing the rapid beating pace of your heart, nervousness etched its way throughout your body as heeseung was always the one to guide you in any sort of intimate situation, but now here you were, taking that freedom away from him.

and as your hands grabbed the rope to wrap his cuffed hands against the headboard, the man beneath you slightly moved, your breath hitched as you were only one pull away from completing his knot yet you froze once his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes remained closed as you awaited his awake, breathing out a sigh of relief after taking notice of his continued slumber,

with the final knot in place, heeseung was successfully cuffed and tied up, landing him in a situation where he had absolutely no chances of touching you as he always does and loves to, your eyes remained on the rope decorating his veiny hands, the contrast between his soft, delicate skin and the harsh rope—

“baby?” heeseung raspily called, tone laced with sleep and exhaustion as his bleary eyes searched for yours, he could feel your figure atop his yet his gaze searched for yours in the dim lighting, heeseung attempted to move, confusion cascading his face once he realised the restriction around his hands,

“what’s all this?” he questioned, head looking upwards to the unexpected sight of the rope covered handcuffs surrounding his wrists, you stared at his face wide eyed, studying his every expression as your breathes quickened once his frown deepened,

“surprise?” you responded, heart thumping between your ribs, innumerable thoughts swirled in your mind dizzyingly, heeseung's second tug at the ropes rendering him futile made you become hyper aware of the situation that you had— of the power you had over him.

"surprise? baby.. what are you planning?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing down on you, gaze swiftly lowering to widen at the sight of his favourite colour wrapping around your body alluringly, his nervous gulp went unnoticed by you, yet you were able to feel his length twitching beneath all articles of clothing between both of you easily.

breathing in a sharp breath— "angel.. how about you untie me so we can both enjoy the night? hm?" he spoke out, desperately beginning his negotiation, and there was no way you were giving up your power.

to have lee heeseung tied up, helplessly beneath you was once in a lifetime occurrence, you might have adored all the nights of him taking full and complete control over you, sometimes deciding to be generous enough to allow you to have a small taste of what its like to take control by guiding you to please him,

"how does it feel?" you questioned ignoring his words, eyes avoiding his as it followed the path of your hand slowly brushing down from his shoulder towards his collarbone, the shaky rise of his chest beneath your fingertips heightened your senses as you felt a throbbing sensation from beneath you,

"angel.. what?" he puzzledly asked, attempting his best to control his breathes as your fingertips inched closer towards his nipple, attempting his best to distract himself from the warmth of your cunt seeping through the lingerie directly to his hardening dick, and yet again, all his attempts deemed inaffective.

"how does it feel to be under me?" you paid no mind to the sudden surge in confidence gushing through you, attention captured by the way heeseung's eyes immediately darkened, his mind was reeling from your teasing as he wasn't used to this at all, he was more accustomed to eat up the sight of your writhing, twitching body beneath him, not the sight of your hungry gaze staring down at him as he was tied up, he could see the numerous emotions spiraling in your vision.

a burning sensation expanded throughout his chest, his need and desire for you fueled by the remaining alcohol in his system, the absolute need to have you beneath him as he pleased you was almost blinding, and the constant throbbing around his wrists from the tight ropes was pushing his patience further,

"answer me hee, how does it feel? hm?" you copied his soft tone in persuading you once he remained silent, your hands gently caressing his smooth skin, heeseung began to shift beneath you, his body hot and bothered by your contiunous teasing and warmth surrounding him yet your lack of movement was driving him crazy, his breaths became shorter, eyelids became heavier as he stared at you,

he so desperately wanted to be angry with you, to somehow manage to stir the control to him— yet your twinkling, curious gaze made him almost play along with your silly game,

"infuriating." he seethed out from between gritted teeth, eyes closing entirely once he felt you press your hips against him, resulting in him tugging against the ropes feebly again, you cooed mockingly at his frown, going further to rile him up by bringing your hand to caress his cheek soothingly, and almost instantly he leaned towards your touch, heeseung's breath hitched as he felt you beginning to slowly roll your hips against his,

opening his eyes to the sight of you looking beneath you both after you quickly discarded your robe, taking notice of his abs flexing, his length's outline steadily becoming more prominent, "just what is going on inside that pretty little head of yours, angel?" he smiled in frustration at you, your needy gaze locked with his own before you shrugged tauntingly,

"i just want to make you feel good." you replied with honesty, slowly lowering yourself towards him, heeseung hissed as he felt your plump lips ghosting kisses against his burning hot skin, his breathes quickened the wetter your kisses got while you went lower, his own lips getting caught hostage between his teeth when he felt you sucking his skin needily,

"baby.. come on," he urged on, the hem of his pants felt like scorching iron rubbing against his skin, his resolve slipping further at the feeling of your hands caressing his abdomen, your tongue swiftly circling his belly button before finally reaching his pants once you were satisfied with his surprised gasp, he breathed out a sigh of relief as you quickly tugged the constricting fabric along with his boxers down,

he was unbelievably hard, heeseung’s head was thrown back at the feeling of you blowing air on him once his large length was freed from his boxers, teeth grinding against one another once your cold fingertips wrapped around his burning skin, “don’t tease me more, angel.” he rasped out, a clear warning in his words as he was close to losing his mind at this point, yet you only smiled at him.

“just enjoy what i’ll give you.” his nails scratched angrily at the ropes from your words, he could feel his frustration leading his body as he thrusted uncontrollably into your hands, in need for any kind of friction, he could taste his blinding climax on the tip of his tongue and yet at the same time it felt so far away, his body felt like it was on fire as for the first time— he couldn’t get what he wanted instantly.

heeseung was new to this situation, one where nothing was under his control and he was left with nothing but his desperate breathes for your mercy, a small portion of him was more accepting of the drastic change, yet that small voice was nothing in comparison to the warning alarms ringing in his head,

and he knew he was completely fucked the moment you decided to lick up a long stripe starting from his base then trailing upwards to circle his raging tip torturously, a shaky breath involuntarily escaped once you repeated the action once again, countless empty threats died in his throat at the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing him, hot tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock,

the salty taste of his continuous precum took over your senses, he was leaking a ridiculous amount just from simple teasing, using his precum as a lube substitute you began to jerk your hand up and down his length, the sudden change in pace resulting in his legs spasming around you, then a satisfied hum vibrating around his tip making him close his eyes shut,

his breathes got heavier the longer you moved, suckling on his tip sloppily with the incessant motion of your hand bringing him closer to his release, heeseung’s muffled groans got louder as he attempted his best to silence himself, not used to being the vocal one that much.

you looked up to the sight of his head thrown back, chest and face flushing a pretty pink along with a sheen, thin layer of sweat glistening along his rapidly rising chest, he looked breathtaking under the dim lighting, abs and legs flexing as he felt his abdomen tightening even more,

“d-don’t stop angel… i’m close,” he whimpered out, the sound of his voice breaking and stuttering out made your brain short circuit, a sound so sweet and addictive that you’ve been deprived of for months, you decided to tease him more,

the moment the tip of your tongue licked along his prominent vein beneath the head of his cock was enough to have his eyes roll back into his skull, plump lips agape to let out a quiet shocked gasp, you continued applying pressure, his thighs shaking next to you whilst his biceps flexed around his head, the rope slowly damaging his skin yet all his mind could focus on was your tongue and the unexpected quickened build up of his climax,

his head fell to the side, pleasure overtaking his body as the coil in his abdomen only tightened further, your hands lowered to fondle with his balls whilst your tongue remained teasing his vein, heeseung could swear he began to see stars the longer you continued, chest rising speedily to inhale deep breathes that felt nonexistent for him,

“right there baby.. so c-close i’m cu-“ yet he couldn’t finish his sentence, the intense build up of pure delight running in his veins abruptly ended, his eyes snapped open in shock when you just pulled away,

“baby what the fuck are you doing?” he spat out angrily, his head lifted swiftly, irritated gaze landing on the sight of your swollen lips and glistening eyes staring back at him, his breathes quickened in frustration as his cock twitched desperately at the view of you, “i can’t have you finish so quickly, where’s the fun in that?”

and with ease, your words affected him efficiently, his brown pools instantly darkening, pupils reducing in size the longer he felt his release slipping away from his body, “i’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you the moment i break these shits,” he tugged on the ropes again, heeseung has never felt so sexually frustrated before, his throbbing length was aching almost painfully when your hold slightly tightened around him,

“you talk too much,” was your only response, heeseung couldn’t bring himself to respond back in time before you lowered yourself yet again, he was suffering whiplash after whiplash from the ‘surprise’ and your frustrating teasing, his head fell back against the pillow once he felt your warm mouth engulfing his tip again,

“you’re going to r-regret this so much, pretty.” he choked out, face burning hot once he felt his impending release returning in an embarrassingly quick manner, you started with licking gently at his sensitive, leaking slit while your hands jerked off his cock below slowly, one hand moved to milk his length while the other stayed lower to cradle his balls,

the familiar stars returned to his vision when you only hummed around him at his words, his frustration mixed with the intense pleasure were feelings his body couldn’t keep up with, and he was under your control with his twitching body directly beneath your hands.

“please angel… don’t stop, i’m so close,” he begged you, voice scratchy and hoarse as he felt his lower half slightly go numb with the continuous build up, his creeping climax approaching in a way his mind couldn’t keep up with, one second he was holding back moans while the other he felt mere moments away from his orgasm,

his abdomen tightened, as he could yet again taste his release on the tip of his tongue, so close, so dizzyingly close he was, his mouth fell open at the feeling of his climax moments away from washing over him, hips jerking into your hold once you quickened only for all of it to come crashing down once you pulled back again,

“what the fuck-“ heeseung growled out, his body searing in anger and pain when all he could feel around his raging length was the cold air, not your wet mouth and warm hands, his mind was reeling with curses as he lifted his head up again, “did i ruin it?” you questioned as you smiled at him.

“did i ruin it, again?” and there you sat, dolled up in his favourite colour, lingerie barely covering any part of you while you looked at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you smirked at him, and his painfully red length right infront of you, he didn’t respond,

“come on hee, is this not fun for you?” you spoke, hands reaching upwards to caress his twitching thighs, finger tips going as high as his hips, torturously close to his length before going down to his knee, heeseung didn’t respond, his eyes remained close whilst he breathed heavily from his nose,

you failed to notice the way his veins were bulging at this point all around his arms, specifically his hands, you failed to notice his fingers and wrists turning red around the cuffs as he tugged, busy pushing your teasing further with running your index finger from the base of his length to his tip,

all you could feel was authority and power, your first taste as you wished to prolong the view of a whimpering heeseung under you, “you could tell me-“ you completely failed to notice the small crack! around the headboard that the rope was fastened to,

you were too late, your heart dropped to your stomach at the sudden loud sound of wood breaking, followed by clank of metal, the large scattered piece of wood landed on the floor followed by the ripped ropes and the handcuffs, you sat frozen in your place in shock and attempting to process the fact that— heeseung just broke completely free?

he sat there, dark strands falling all over his eyes that were staring at you half lidded, you could see the pent up frustration and anger in them, most importantly the relief now that he was free, the feral glint intensified when he gently moved his hands around his wrists, his hand caressing the slightly damaged skin all while maintaining eye contact with your shocked face,

you really shouldn’t have trusted jake.

because jake never brought up the high possibility of the result of his plan to be a feral heeseung staring at you in a predatory gaze with a broken headboard behind him, “you had your fun didn’t you, baby?” he smiled at you, chest remaining to pant heavy breaths,

you only nodded your head, still stuck on attempts to process the fact that jake’s plan entirely backfired, what now?

“now it’s my time to have fun, it’s only fair that way isn’t it?” he finished your thought for you, he cooed at the sight of your confused gaze, yet you werent completely sure. judging by his sudden attitude change, there was no way he was going to be this nice with you, not after everything you did?

“come here” he pushed himself upwards on the bed before he patted on his lap, his length still standing proud and hard, yet the expectant look in heeseung’s eyes made you obey him completely,

you hastily crawled towards him, his needy hands instantly caressing and fondling every inch of skin he could reach, “look at you.. all dolled up for me, you look stunning, angel.” he trailed kisses down your shoulder once your back pressed against his chest, his length throbbed by your lower back whilst his hands gripped around the frail fabric around your body, his hands were rough,

god if you only knew what you were in for.

“just for you, hee.” you whispered to him, turning your head to face his lovesick eyes, the sudden changes in his gaze made your head spin as the heeseung that was glowering at you a mere minute ago, was currently drowning in your eyes with nothing but pure adoration and need for you,

“yeah? all for me, right?” he breathed out against your lips, large hands now finding comfort on your waist, stroking your soft skin gently as he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, you felt his lips curving upwards into a smile when you nodded in confirmation to his words,

“open your legs for me, darling.” his hands lowered to grip your thighs apart, fingertips brushing soothingly against your supple skin before they inched towards your center, your soiled panties coming in contact with his fingertips made him chuckle, “already this excited, baby?” he questioned, his smile widening when you turned your blushing face away from him,

his fingers quickly pushed the soaked fabric away, immediately moving towards your sopping hole, your wetness gushed around his finger once he teased the tip of his finger in, his other arm came up to wrap around your waist once your breathes began to get heavier, face flushed whilst he carefully pressed you more against him as he leaned back against the remaining part of the headboard,

“look at you taking me in so well, angel.” he praised, eyes locked and fascinated on the way his fingers disappeared between your swollen folds only to come out glistening, you looked below you, the sight of your dripping cunt covered by his long fingers never failed to make your heart skip a beat, only increasing the warmth spreading around your body once he dipped back in,

his rough skin caressed along your gummy walls, easily reaching your weakest and sweetest spots to please you in the best ways possible, his priorities seemed to remain unchanged even in his state of pure rage, he still had to make you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before proceeding with anything else,

it was when he swiftly added his other ring finger to please you along with his middle one, then proceeding to use his other hand to rub slow circles on your puffy clit, steadily dragging your climax closer, you began to see stars,

colourful indecipherable shapes clouded your vision as heeseung fingered your first release out of you with ease, your glazed eyes rolled to the back of your head when he continued, aiding you in riding out your climax with his movements between your twitching legs whilst he whispered unintelligible praises to your ear, ending each word with a gentle kiss that echoed in your mind,

he was so gentle with you as you moaned quietly for him, your noises heard as melodies for him and only him, he studied your every expression while you were coming undone under his touch, though he’s seen you in this state countless times your short gasps, furrowed eyes and closed eyelids that were complimented by your flushed cheeks never failed to leave him mesmerised,

your hand quickly reached out to slow his movements, heeseung was close to beginning overstimulating you, his fingers resumed to thrust into your gushing cunt, knocking your breath out, yet before you could ask him to stop he beat you to it, “you took all this away from me tonight,” he whispered, tone undergoing an astonishing change as he spoke in anger,

the pleasure and sensitivity was beginning to numb your mind once you felt another impending orgasm building up, your abdomen twisting in tension at your imminent release, “hee please-“ you whimpered out before he cut you off, “take all of it, didn’t you want to make me feel good?” he asked, breathes getting harsher against your ear while your heart raced, your legs ached once heeseung moved his own beneath them to keep yours open,

“make me feel good, angel. cum for me,” he ordered, his hands increasing in pace as he quickly added a third finger making your eyes almost cross, your wetness by now was gliding down his hand and inevitably ruining the sheets beneath you, the force of his fingers pushed back against your convulsing hips, whilst he busied himself with trailing bites down your neck,

“i’m c-close, hee” you warned, voice cracking with each syllable as your oncoming climax felt more intense, the coil in your stomach twisting and turning once your release was moments away from overtaking your body, “come on, angel. i’ve got you,” his words were the last ones you registered before your ears began to ring as you squirted all over his hands, body trembling in his hold while heeseung continued to fuck you with his fingers, riding out the entirety of your orgasm whilst he basked in your moans and whimpers of his name,

“did so well for me angel,” he breathed out, his fingers pulled out from your dripping folds, reaching upwards to teasingly press on your puffy clit, eliciting a needy whimper from you, “doesn’t feel that nice when you tease, does it?” he asked with his voice heavy, eyes glued on your face twisted in pleasure and slight overstimulation, “no, i’m sorry, it doesn’t feel nice.” you quickly responded, wishing in your head for this to be over as the exhaustion from your mind blowing releases was slowly shutting down your brain,

yet heeseung noticed the prolonged period of your closed eyes, there was no way you thought that the night could possibly end any time soon, right? absolutely not. he hasn’t even started yet,

with a particularly unexpected slap to your dripping cunt your eyes shot wide open, a shocked gasp escaped your throat before all the noises in the room were replaced with your mewls that rung out once he began to toy with your overstimulated clit, “wanna go to sleep, baby?” he questioned while his fingers teased around your entrance again,

your body shivered beneath his arms as he pushed the tip of his two fingers in, “can we sleep, please?” you cried out, a thin veil beginning to form around your eyes once all the nerves in your body sparked, pleasure shooting all throughout your veins when heeseung pushed his fingers knuckles deep again, “our night hasn’t even started yet, pretty.” he replied with a chuckle,

your moans broke apart further the more his fingers began to fuck out orgasm after orgasm from you whilst he savoured every pretty noise you made, each sound making him fall deeper into the haze of the lust that was intoxicating the room, the longer you squirmed in his hold, the longer you made the prettiest sounds, the worse he ached beneath you, he relished in all the unintentional movements to his throbbing length behind you, swallowing back every moan of his in every few seconds that you moved just right,

“you can give me another one, can’t you?” his hot breath landed against your ear, by now both of your bodies felt sticky and hot, drenched in sweat atop the steadily soaking sheets, your breath mixed with his whilst his fingers never left your drenched pussy, heeseung’s mind was reeling with pain and pleasure at this point, his body had probably gotten more sensitive than yours yet he knew it was all going to be worth it in the end,

you shook your head in denial, however your body was contradicting all your thoughts once you gushed around his fingers again, heeseung smiled in satisfaction at your spent state, your sweaty chest rising up rapidly in despair for air, he had to fight the urge to bury his face between your legs once his fingers pulled away to reveal multiple, clear spider web like strings that connected his fingers to your cunt, their rightful place.

heeseung was absolutely hypnotised by your weak body above him, twitching legs behind his for when he attempted his best to keep yours open, captivated by the way your hands gripped around his for support as you tried to regulate your breathing,

he gently moved your body towards the bed, laying you down carefully whilst you opened your unfocused, watery eyes to gaze at his love and concern filled ones, “you alright, baby?” he whispered against your lips, lowering body as close to possible to yours, curious eyes searching your tired ones when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to lower him for a gentle peck, you nodded your head in reassurance to him, oh how you wish you didn’t.

as the moment that you did, his eyes flashed with the same anger they had minutes ago, “you still have energy, i know you do.” he replied, assuring himself more than you before he flipped your body over in the blink of an eye, the last expression on his face that you saw was of him smiling at you,

his hands brushed against your sides from the bottom to the top, like a predator checking their prey. his hold tightening the more he inched lower before he reached your hips, “so perfect for me,” he whispered his praise more to himself while his eyes took in every inch of your exhausted body,

you whimpered in his hold in surprise when he spread your cheeks apart, revealing your dripping gaping hole to his eyes, the sight alone made an incredibly painful throb to resonate from between his aching legs,

he wasted no time in propping himself on his knees, hips angled towards yours with his raging red tip positioned at your entrance, without a warning he pushed in,

the satisfying burn and tightening made you moan in unison, heeseung by now was completely acting on his own desires, body overtaken in pleasure and absolute need to have himself buried to the deepest point in you, your figure pressed against his while he fucked you till the sunrise, till both of your bodies were so sensitive and unable to handle a single touch,

his thrusts were merciless as he pounded into you, pushing your body further against the bed before pulling you back by your hips, you moaned into the pillow as heeseung took complete control of the situation, ridiculous how you thought tonight he would be under your control.

and as the thought was formed in your head, he pushed harsher against you before he rasped out, “you tried to…” cut off by his harsh breaths, his hips suddenly slowed down to become more powerful, “tried. to. control. me?” he asked through gritted teeth in an incredulous manner, accentuating and bringing more strength to every word by following it with a harsh thrust, his tip pressing against your cervix with each word making your eyes roll back whilst your jaw went slack,

his cock brushed against all your sweet spots, length perfectly stretching your walls with the tiniest tinge of burn due his large size, you could feel each and every vein bulging along your guts as he pounded into you,

“tried to guide me?” he followed with a laugh, and there he was. the heeseung you were expecting to appear since the moment you tied him up, the wild and vicious side of him that you’ve rarely gotten to see as he much preferred showing you his gentler side, however those were in situations that were under his control.

humiliation took over you at his words in the best form possible, his words of mock only resulted in you tightening around him making him groan, he leaned forward, hovering his chest above your back as he completely caged you beneath him, before he brought himself closer to your ear, “you looked so cute trying to tell me what to do, baby” he whispered, hips pressing flush against your ass with every syllable,

your throat had gone hoarse by now, as all you could hear were your mewls followed by heeseung’s words, the tears that aligned by your waterline had slid down a long time ago, staining your face in the prettiest way possible, heeseung’s favourite way.

“looked so cute acting all tough like you don’t need me to help you with anything, hm?” he continued, chuckling into your ear as more tears aligned by your jaw before dropping onto the pillow,

“looked so cute trying to suck me off like you don’t need me to push your head down my dick everytime,” his arm came upwards, you had buried your head in your pillow soaked tears as his cock continued moulding you into his size while he spoke to you, unbeknownst to you he expertly pulled off the tie hanging loosely by his neck,

and in a split second, heeseung had wrapped the narrow fabric around your neck, you gasped as heeseung lifted your head upwards, the tie applied perfect pressure to your jugular veins instantly resulting in you becoming lightheaded whilst heeseung’s animalistic eyes bored into yours,

“what made you think that’ll work?” he smiled at you, revealing his pearly whites as if he wasn’t pounding into you, whines escaped your mouth before you could process any of them, heeseung stared at your every expression with admiration and conceitedness,

“have i not made you take control enough when you wanted to?” he pressed on, smile widening as he had an unrecognisable expression on his face, you couldn’t tell if it was his reddened dark eyes, or his flushed face with his black locks that stuck on his forehead contrasting the light blush, but you could barely recognise him, the unfamiliar expression on his face sent pulses of warmth throughout your body,

“you could have asked me if you were that interested, instead of putting those pathetic shits around my wrists.” he finished off, tilting his head to the side once you closed your eyes, his thursts never faltered as he brought you closer to your release, abdomen twisting and churning in preparation for your oncoming climax, you felt your ears ringing again when heeseung slightly pulled on the fabric around your neck,

“eyes on me, pretty.” he groaned, his own voice laced with exhaustion and need, the desire to release his climax from hours ago now blinding his senses, you opened your unfocused eyes to land upon his, and while his hips were grinding against yours, every inch of his cock caressing every inch of your walls that swallowed him up entirely, he spoke out,

“open your mouth, baby.” his grip shakily tightening further around the tie, you breaths getting heavier and more difficult as you opened your mouth, heeseung spat onto your lolled out tongue, eyeing the way the string of saliva landed on your tongue before he pulled the tie more, “swallow.” and you did whilst he studied your every move,

once you showed him your clean tongue to satisfy him, he began to lower himself towards your neck, your head ultimately fell against the pillow again as heeseung began to trail soft bites along your shoulder while his hips moved against yours, both of you ridiculously sensitive from the prolonged edging and overstimulation, holding back desperately to lengthen the period of him inside of you, you moaned his name in need as his tip kept kissing your cervix,

“taking me in so well, milking my cock so good angel.” he praised, the pleasure finally overtaking his body as your walls only sucked him in further while more slick poured around your legs and onto the sheets, your moans mixed with his needy ones, sweaty bodies rubbing against one another messily as both of you chased your highs in desperation,

“s-seung, i’m so close.” you stuttered out, eyes closing when heeseung softly tugged at the tie, his own eyes shut once he felt his climax mere seconds away from washing down on him, the dizzying feeling of euphoria already running through his veins and intensifying with the build up, he could see stars clouding his vision similar to the ones clouding yours, “i’ve got you baby, cum for me.” he sweetly whispered,

and he followed his words with one, two and three delicious thrusts right against your cervix that had you coming undone for him, release washing over you mind numbingly, body weak as your legs shook beneath heeseung’s while his hand caressed your hips in attempts of comforting you, lips never stopping from kissing sweet words into your ear as you shook beneath him, the torturous tightening of your walls easily pushed heeseung over the edge as a few moments later you could feel his warm ropes of cum filling you up completely,

you struggled to return to your senses, body overtaken with exhaustion while heeseung kept peppering open mouthed kisses along your shoulder, his arms moved to wrap around your waist, gently fondling with your breasts as he was still cumming, he filled you up so well,

quiet and loving praises fell against your ear once heeseung was finished, still buried deep inside of you with his tie around your neck, your breathes were nearly shaky as he pressed his body closer to yours, “did amazing for me, baby.”

“how about i run both of us a bath then we can go to sleep?” he once again kissed your shoulder, smiling against your skin once you nodded,

you nodded in hopes of returning to clean satin sheets to drift off to slumber in the arms of your only love.

the smell of his favourite lavender bath bomb overwhelmed your nose when heeseung carried you into the warm bathroom after discarding you of your lingerie, gently lowering you into the warmth of the water before quickly taking his place behind you, your back laid against his chest, his hands ran up and down your arms in comfort, heeseung’s chest warmed as he noticed goosebumps aligning all over your skin at his touch the longer you leaned into him, his fingertips ghosted over your skin in a pleasant way.

your head was placed on his shoulder as your face was turned towards his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion from the restless night, heeseung cooed when he noticed all the narrow tear streaks on your cheeks, his hands massaged all your aching muscles whilst his lips kissed away your dried tears,

“you okay, pretty?” he softly called out, voice quiet and gentle next to your ear, his soft side returning quickly, your gentle and caring heeseung gazed at you with concern and love shimmering in his eyes that filled with relief once you nodded, “i’m sorry if i was a bit rough, angel.” he continued, lips now moving along your neck with each word while his hands lowered to your thighs,

“it’s okay, i liked it.” you replied honestly once your eyes opened to look into his own expectant ones, voice quiet and hoarse as your throat felt sore, “yeah i bet you did, you looked pretty pleased you know.” he smiled before attempting to mimick your expressions that resulted in a pinch to his hand from you,

“though i’m… not that satisfied yet.” heeseung voiced out quietly, his smile widened when your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not that satisfied?

“what do you mean?” you questioned in bewilderment, you could still feel how sore all your muscles were there was no way he still had the energy for another round,

“i mean… it is my birthday isn’t it?” he began, you nodded along his words which was his cue to continue, his eyes trailed all along your shoulders and neck that were littered with his bites, “and you do want to make me happy on my birthday, right?” of course he was going to use his birthday card to get what he wants, you should have seen it coming from heeseung. “and i can get whatever i want on my birthday.”

“yes you can— heeseung, what do you want?” you asked, by now you had half your body turned to face him as you were genuinely curious to what he wanted, especially now when heeseung had a soft blush dusting his gorgeous features,

“i want you to ride my thigh, pretty.” he spoke out almost shyly, your heeseung who always surrounded you with his teasing and flirty nature, now was looking at you with twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks as he asked you to ride his thigh.

he cleared his throat before his natural, intimidating expression returned, “you don’t have to, if you’re too tired.” he added, but how could you deny such a request when he was staring at you with his plump lips swollen and red, his lids heavy on his eyes that were begging you to comply to his request, his hands that were ghosting around your waist lovingly only pushed you further,

and instead of answering him, you quickly moved your sore body to face him making the water ripple around you, your leg lifting over his to position yourself where he requested you too, heeseung instantly began to guide you, flexing his muscles beneath you once your overstimulated, puffy clit came in contact with his skin, he relished in your quiet whimper as he rocked your hips against his thigh,

your hands gripped onto his shoulders for support, nails digging sharply into his skin as you felt pleasure shooting from every nerve in your body, heeseung settled his head into the crook of your neck, lips returning to their rightful place of kissing your skin and every inch of it they could reach while his hands never stopped from aiding you in riding him,

your soft moans landed directly on his ear easily sending him into a trance as he felt overstimulated by feeling you everywhere around him, all over him and this was undoubtedly his favourite place to be, you could feel your release steadily building up as heeseung kept altering between relaxing and tensing his thigh, each movement sending jolts of pleasure throughout your whole body,

you could by now feel his length standing proud and poking at your other leg that was placed between his, his own breaths getting heavier against your neck while his nails dug into your hips, “i’m so close, hee.” you mewled out next to his ear, eyes closing once you felt the coil in your abdomen mere seconds from snapping, the water splashed around the tub, some droplets landing against the floor while you continued,

he nodded along to your words, “i know, baby.” he whispered against your skin, your movements quickened the more you felt your release approaching, your climax right around the corner while heeseung’s lips never left your skin, praises falling into your ear as his body practically moulded with yours, he held you closer once he felt your legs twitching besides his, “i’m cumming, hee— oh my god!” you cried out as your release washed over you headily, your wetness spurting all over his skin once intense waves of pleasure filled your body,

whispers of i got yous were the only thing keeping you grounded when you saw dots littering all across your vision, body spasming in pleasure as heeseung helped you in riding out your orgasm with his praises remaining continuous, if you thought you weren’t spent then, you totally are now.

“did so fucking well for me, baby.” he spoke quietly to you as you nuzzled further into his chest, “but you didn’t finish—“ you started off, hand lowering to his abdomen to help him before he gripped your hand, bringing it upwards to place a soft kiss to your knuckles, he held your it close to his lips as he cut you off, “no baby, you already did so well for me, this is something i’ll take care, okay?” he replied tenderly, pressing a soft kiss into your cheek after you nodded to his words,

“now let’s get you out and go to sleep, how does that sound, love?” he asked, smiling adoringly at your tired state, “amazing.”

soft groans reached your ears as the sunlight steadily peeked through into your shared bedroom, the arms that wrapped around you as you fell asleep a few hours prior suddenly had a tighter grip on you, heeseung’s hands moved on your body, caressing and fondling every inch of skin beneath his fingers while his hot breaths landed on your shoulder as your back was turned towards him,

“hee?” you called, voice laced with sleep while your eyes remained closed, heeseung’s movements paused for a second, you could tell he was trying to regulate his breathing behind you before his hands resumed, “i need you angel, i want to please you so bad.” his needy and whiny voice shocked you, knocking away any remaining thought of sleeping out of your head the moment you heard him, inevitably causing a familiar wetness to pool in your panties, did he see a dream or something?

“seung what-“ “please, just let me eat you out.” he cut you off, and if you weren’t shocked before you for sure were now, he quickly turned you around to face him to see just how desperate he was at this sudden moment, “i couldn’t stop thinking about it yesterday, you were too tired but now that you slept i have to do this,” he rambled out, his body felt ten times hotter than yours as his arms pulled you towards his chest, “sit on my face.”

and you really didn’t have to be told twice,

so here you were now, gripping on the headboard— well what remained of the headboard with your legs placed around heeseung’s shoulders, back arching as he fucked his tongue in and out of your sopping hole,

your body shook with intense pleasure, still weak and aching from a few hours earlier yet still so responsive to every move made by heeseung, the same arms that broke free of the iron cuffs and ripped the ropes from yesterday now had a vice grip on your thighs and hips to keep you in your place, guaranteeing that you have no choice but to take what he’s been dying to give you since the moment your tongue ran along his dick yesterday,

quiet moans left your mouth when heeseung began to switch between fucking his tongue into your cunt only to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves a second later, and he made sure that when he thrusted his tongue in your gummy walls, his nose pressed against your clit perfectly, his hips were yearningly thrusting into the blanket in hopes of slightest bit of friction, yet his main focus still remained on pleasuring you.

your groans and whimpers increased in volume as you felt the tightening of the coil in your abdomen increase, the pleasure already running through your veins intensely from the mere build up, heeseung mirrored every noise you were making on your cunt, each hum sending a dizzying vibration that pushed you further to the edge,

“hee, baby— i’m so close.” you moaned out, heeseung could already tell you were moments away from your climax from the way you were gushing on his mouth and he was glad to lick every drop, the pace of his movements surged in speed at your words, “cum for me, angel.” he hummed against your clit and that was enough to have the familiar stars dazzle your sight,

your legs shook uncontrollably around his head whilst heeseung licked and sucked everywhere, he continued eating you out sloppily as your wetness decorated all over the lower half of his face and he couldn’t be happier.

heeseung was humming along to your moans of pleasure, feeling just as high on ecstasy as you were, jaw slack while he licked up all what you had to offer before opting to just place soft kisses,

your body was holding on for dear life— the only form of stability was the headboard that you could no longer depend on as your grip got weaker the longer heeseung kept kissing you in a mind numbing manner, your body melted in his hold while your brain felt like it turned into mush, the grip he had on your legs tightening when your convulsing legs attempted to move away once he slowly began to overstimulate you,

your whimpers turned shaky when he pressed one long kiss before he finally allowed you to pull away, his hands instantly moved to hold your body close to his, proudly displaying his smiling face that was glistening with your wetness to you,

“heeseung you’re rock hard,” you stated as your eyes unintentionally lowered to the obvious tent in the middle of the blanket, “baby, the way you moaned my name was so hot. i would literally cum if you touch me once right now.” he replied, nuzzling his face closer to you while being mindful of keeping you clean,

“then let me help you,” and before heeseung could protest again, your hand briskly went under the blanket, dipping below his boxers to finally give attention to his throbbing cock,

in an instant, a low moan was drawn out from his chest whilst his eyes immediately closed in pleasure, your fingers ran along his length, his leaking precum aiding in the smooth movement of your hand, jerking your wrist to move up and down before pausing to press your thumb atop his gushing slit,

heeseung hissed in sensitivity, the hold he had on your waist tightening when he inched his mouth closer to your ear, “don’t tease me if you don’t want me to repeat yesterday.” he warned quietly, and you had no intentions to do so whatsoever,

“i really just want to please you,” you replied honestly making heeseung smile, “you’re already doing so well.” he moaned out once your hand picked up the pace, his red tip was covered with his precum as his cock throbbed in your hand, you quickly went closer towards his legs once his thighs began to twitch, leaving heeseung to throw his head back on the pillow while his hands gripped the sheets beneath him,

“so close.. i’m so close,” he babbled out, eyes shut in pleasure with his hips jerking forward uncontrollably, you studied his every twitch and shake as you continued the movement of your hands, studied the flexing of his abs as the coil in his stomach tightened unbearably, studied the way his jaw went slack while moans reverberated from his chest, studied the way his veins were popping from the tight grip he had on the sheets,

you could tell he was moments away from his climax, and with the sudden thought of heightening his pleasure you quickly acted upon it— the motion of your hands continued with heeseung’s eyes shut and head thrown back and the moment you lowered your head so lick at his tip had him shaking beneath you,

you swiftly began to suck on his pulsing tip, tongue licking along his slit as you hollowed your cheeks before pushing your head lower to his length, the sudden change made heeseung’s head bolt upwards, wide eyes that lined with a thin veil of tears gazed at you, his breaths getting shakier the longer you kept moving your head up and down his cock,

“fuck— right there baby, just like that. just like that, angel,” he rambled on, head falling back against the pillow as he could feel sweat rolling down his temples, the pleasure in his body flared when you once again began to tease that one pronounced vein that had his eyes rolling back to his skull

“baby— oh my god” he moaned loudly, not having the chance to warn you before his climax flushed over his body, hot spurts of his cum ran down your throat while you continued to suckle on his tip, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock as your hand continued to jerk off his length, heeseung felt light headed, absolutely delirious when he started to feel himself being pushed into overstimulation, his deep moans echoed through the walls of your room as you kept pleasuring him,

he could feel the continuous sensation of ecstasy and euphoria running through his veins and numbing his head, sparks of pleasure shooting along his spine once you forced yourself lower and deepthroated him, and god he was cumming so fucking much.

you were struggling to keep up with him, tears aligning in your waterline while some escaped from the intense burning in your throat as you struggled to accommodate his length so deep in you, yet you remained with your nose pressed against his pelvis while his body shook, you finally gave him what he’s been waiting for since yesterday and god heeseung has never felt this good.

once his body calmed down to slight twitches you pulled away, the sight of your swollen and glistening lips covered in his cum made heeseung’s sensitive cock twitch, his eyes remained glued on you as you lolled your clean tongue out to show him, and he had to fight the urge to pound into you like yesterday.

he smiled at you in exhaustion before easily pulling your body upwards, he kissed along your face and jaw, relishing in all of your giggles as he held you close to him, tight in between his arms, right where you belong.

“satisfied now?” you questioned out as you nuzzled closer into his chest, “so satisfied i could marry you tomorrow.”

“he WHAT?!” jake’s voice pierced throughout your room, it was currently the evening, the day after heeseung’s birthday where his closest friends came to visit your apartment, and while heeseung was busy gaming with sunghoon in the living room, jaeyun pulled you into your bedroom to question you about how his “genius” plan went.

“he broke the handcuffs, jake.” you sighed in exasperation, you’ve already explained the story three times yet jake’s mind refused to process the fact that his plan completely backfired,

his widened eyes stared at yours in shock and bewilderment, having difficulty understanding just how heeseung broke free— “what about the ropes? how did they not-“ “he ripped them in a second, jake.” you cut him off before he started another endless rant,

now jake knew that heeseung and sunghoon (along with jongseong sometimes) went to the gym, building up a consistent routine that took place mainly in the mornings, and yes he was aware that the routine was established a few months ago— yet he was sure that heeseung would stand no chance against iron handcuffs, and to ease his doubts he added the ropes,

“you underestimated him terribly, jae.” you spoke out, exhaustion evident in your tone as you hadn’t been able to have the best sleep of the night, your mind attempting to process all the events that took place yesterday yet the one that disturbed you the most was how unaffected heeseung was now, as he was helping jongseong in the kitchen a few minutes ago before agreeing on playing a few rounds with sunghoon,

“well.. i’ll have to invest in better handcuffs next time, how are you by the way?” he replied, curious eyes studying your movements, “hm?” you questioned in confusion, uncertain of what he was implying, “are you like… sore or anything?” he replied, his gaze now avoidant as he used his hands to aid him in expressing himself, oh.

“what do you think?” you looked at him, eyes very clearly indicating that you’ve reached your limit, “well.. he does have a pretty bad temper, i hope it wasn’t anything too harsh.” he smiled innocently, nodding his head along to his own words to convince himself

“who has bad temper?” oh gosh, speak of the devil.

heeseung stood at the doorway of the room, his gaze switching between your figure on the bed and jake’s standing one, “clearly you.. what even made you break the headboard last night?” jake asked cluelessly attempting his best to switch the topic of conversation,

“why are you interested about last night?” heeseung questioned, eyebrows knitting together before his gaze found the bag next to jake’s leg, it was jake’s bag, and it had the broken handcuffs and ropes from yesterday, and suddenly a light bulb went off atop heeseung’s head as his eyes widened

“so it was you?!” heeseung practically yelled at jake, an accusatory finger pointing at him when all the dots connected, “me?!” jaeyun pushed his innocent act further, mirroring heeseung’s shocked expression and pointing in confusion at himself while you just stared in anticipation at the two grown men,

“it was your idea, sim jaeyun!” and with that final yell from heeseung, jake ran out of the room.

A, NOTE. pt2: the first part of the whole tying up & handcuff breaking was inspired by a jungkook fic i read on wattpad years ago so credit goes to that author for the inspiration ! i unfortunately can’t remember the fic nor the title :(

i’m so sorry for the delay that happened with this fic, it’s crazy to think about how this was supposed to be posted 2.5 months ago yet i just finished it, i’ve come to the realisation that i prefer longer fics that have more scenes in them which obviously require a lot of writing so i’ve decided to not set release dates for my future fics,

the foreshadow soulmate!jake is one that i’m still working on ! and it’s 100% going to be longer than this one considering that now this “surprise” fic is my longest one :0 a bit shocking for me honestly, anywho next up i’ll try my hardest to put out my jake fic but if not & i put out smth different just know that im still working on it bcs i really like soulmate tropes :] anywho happy new year ! wishing everyone happiness & health for this year <3

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #my works ♡

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heavndoll · 2 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

1K notes · View notes

gimmick-blog-bracket · 8 days

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@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@official-boob-posts

This blog was featured in the video ‘Depths Of The Tumblr Gimmick Blog Iceberg’ on the YouTube channel ‘STRANGE ÆONS.’

Boobs ( . )( . )

#round 4 #tumblr tournament #polls #gimmick blog

738 notes · View notes

doeidawn · 3 months

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☁︎ — helping hand

kyle was always a good friend to you, a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold when times got rough. maybe it was a good thing that your biggest problem as of late was a (seemingly endless) cycle of bad boyfriends. but kyle can't stand to see you upset; not when he knows just how well he can help you. 5.4k

⟢ pairing: gaz x f!reader

⟢ tags: MDNI/18+; one-time fwb turns into two-times; reference to previous sexual encounters; technically hurt/comfort—reader has shitty ex-bfs; smoking; gaz is a tease; oral sex [f receiving]; fingering; couch sex; unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it); praise; slight possessive gaz if you squint; increasingly desperate sex; handjob; semi-awkward aftercare; i do not know how to end long fics sorry it's lame

It’s been a while since you and Kyle hooked up.

Eight months, to be exact. Nearly a year. Thankfully, everything was still okay between you two. He was a close friend—a good friend—and hooking up didn’t seem to change much about that. If anything, it only improved things; there was no lingering tension simmering in the air on late nights. No more wondering how his hands and lips would feel on your skin or yearning to hear him whisper filth in your ear. And even though it seemed surreal to remember the way he felt against you, it was over after that one time.

So you moved on. Even though your body begged for more and every fantasy seemed to circle back to him, you moved on.

In fact, Kyle was nothing but supportive of moving on. He was among the first to learn every time you started talking to someone new. He cared enough to vet the guys you met whenever he could, the major downside being that his criteria of “worthy of dating you” seemed very strict. So strict that none of them ever really fulfilled it. But you always assumed it was because Kyle cared about you and wanted you safe with a guy who knew your worth. Truthfully, he was the most supportive wingman you could’ve asked for.

It was a bittersweet feeling. You had to wonder if the night you shared replayed in his head as often as your own. He was the best you ever had, no doubt about it, but you knew it wasn’t in your best interest to yearn for your best friend. But, goddamn, was his embrace a hard one to find a replacement for.

Try as he may to keep you safe and prevent any heartbreak, it was, unfortunately, inevitable. Despite all of his efforts to keep you away from guys who were so clearly just using you, he couldn’t have known you were desperate enough to fill the void that you couldn’t stop yourself from lunging at the promise of a warm body. It was never worth it in the end. Every time, without fail, you’d run back to Kyle to cry on his shoulder. It sucked. But he was always the greatest help.

And, as much as you hated yourself for it, that’s exactly where you found yourself again. Sat on his sofa while you blow snot into tissues and smoke through his cigarettes just to rant about your latest failure of a date. You felt no better than the subjects of whatever trashy television was playing on the screen; originally intended to laugh at for distraction, now only reminding you how pitiful you felt.

Like always, Kyle had a reassuring hand rubbing your back, nice enough to nod along to your sputtering and curses, as nonsensical as they were. He was so nice, and it made you feel like shit whenever you came around with another sob story.

You run a hand over your puffy eyes, wiping away another stream of tears from your cheeks. “M’sorry, Kyle. I didn’t mean to come over n’ cause a scene.”

“You’re alright, love.” The reassurance was nice, and it felt genuine, but it didn’t necessarily change how you felt.

“No, I’m not. I’m a fuckin’ mess.” A self-deprecating laugh leaves your lips as you run another tissue over your raw and red nose. “You think I’d learn a thing or two by now.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault those guys don’t know a perfect woman when they’ve got her.”

You roll your eyes at that. “‘A perfect woman’.” The thought makes you scoff. You felt anything but perfect. “Do I look like a perfect woman right now?”

“‘Course you do.” Kyle brings his other hand close and, for a moment, you think he’s going to hold your hand. Instead, he plucks away the cigarette hanging lazily between your fingers. “Smoking’s not a good look, though.”

“They’re your cigarettes.”

“Ah, that’s neither here nor there.” He takes a puff of his own before leaning forward to stub out the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table. “Never said I was perfect, did I?”

“You seem to have your shit together better than me.” You throw your tissue towards a bin Kyle had brought near the sofa once your crying had started. “I’m an idiot for not listenin’ to you.”

“Well, beatin’ yourself up over it isn’t gonna solve anythin’.”

“But it’s true. You warn me all the time about these guys. It’s either one boring date or a hookup just for…mediocre sex. At best.” Kyle scoffs at that. “And…then it’s over.”

Leaning back against the sofa, you run your hands over your face again. Frustration gnaws at you, tugging at the back of your mind and filling you with some unnamed emotion that makes everything feel bitter. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault for not knowing why you were so hard on yourself. It’s not like he knew it was him you were trying to replace.

You huff an exasperated sigh. “I’m just…frustrated. I can’t remember the last time a guy made me feel…good. Made me feel wanted.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Kyle nods his head in thought like he’s debating his inner monologue. He settles back against the sofa next to you.

“I can.”

Two simple words and yet they make your heart feel like it’ll jump out of your chest. Choking on your breath felt preferable to meeting his gaze.

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh, but you aren’t sure it’s because you found it funny.

His hand finds its way to your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through your sweatpants. “You could have that again, you know. We could have that again.” You almost hate how hopeful he sounds.

You aren’t sure what to say. It must show on your face, you figure, when you notice his smile from the corner of your eye.

It would be a total and utter lie to pretend you haven’t thought about the possibility a million times over. As if you haven’t had to remember the way his touch felt so you could get yourself off when every other man couldn’t. But every time, without fail, the nastiest guilt would purge those thoughts away, ashamed of yourself for thinking about something he never seemed to bother remembering.

But now he was proposing to do it all over again. And you wanted to. You wanted to so badly.

“Kyle…” Your throat is dry when you finally manage to utter the words. “I thought you…I assumed it was just a one-time thing…”

“It doesn’t have t’be.”

Of course it does, you want to argue. It wasn’t fair the way his touch had you yearning for something you shouldn’t want. But the more you thought about it, the less you wanted to fight it.

His soft voice fills the silence as his thumb brushes over your thigh. “It’s what you deserve; someone who can make you feel good. And wanted.”

“I thought you only did that because I was…frustrated.”

“Mm. And you’re frustrated now, aren’t you?”

It’s a simple question, but his tone is dulcet and sweet like he’s trying to seduce you. Truthfully, you feared it was working. Goddamn tease.

“I…suppose you could say that.” You concede, almost fighting the smile forming on your lips.

Kyle’s hand slides off of your thigh before snaking behind you, slotting perfectly on your curves as his arm wraps around your waist. “It certainly seems that way to me.” He leans in closer and your heart leaps into your throat when the warmth of his breath hits your cheek. “I don’t mind helpin’ you out again.”

You hope he doesn’t notice how tense you are, how your lips quiver as you finally bring yourself to speak. “Are…are you serious..?”

A small laugh escapes him as he pulls you closer. His lips press small, gentle kisses on the underside of your jaw, each one sending a shiver down your spine. You can practically feel the blood pumping hurriedly through your veins. He didn’t have to say anything to tell you how serious he was.

Heat pools in your core when his other hand slides up your thigh. More insistent than the last time, his fingers rub and knead at the pliant flesh hidden beneath your clothes. Your nerves come alight, sensitive to every brush of his fingers as they move inward on your body.

You tilt your head enough to catch Kyle’s attention. Placing a hand on his cheek when his nose brushes yours, you impatiently close the gap between your mouths. It’s a gentle kiss, but there’s an undoubtable hunger in it. Almost instantly, you feel the tension leave your body, replaced by an insatiable need that gnaws at your core.

He completely bombarded your senses. His smell in your nostrils, his touch on your curves, his taste on your lips—everything about him had your head spinning. It’s too much and too little all at the same time.

The movement of your hips was an impulsive one; a plea for him to hurry up or give you more. The whine that left you was a pathetic sound that escaped your mouth and filled his.

You could feel Kyle smile against you, his grip on your waist tightening. “Christ, you’re really impatient, huh?”

“Shut up, Kyle,” you pant. He wasn’t wrong; your patience was worn thin at this point. It was almost torturous to feel so needy.

“Easy, baby,” he coos against your lips. As riled up as you were, calming down wasn’t a simple ask, but you willed yourself to listen. The way he spoke to you made your body want to obey his every command. “I know what you need.”

When his mouth meets yours for another series of hungry kisses, you could feel his hand move higher up your thigh. His touch was intentionally light, a tease to leave you wanting more. And it did. It took everything in your power to keep still when his fingertips brushed over the space between your thighs.

But you couldn’t stop yourself when his hand finally dipped beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. You could feel how slick and desperate you were before his fingertips brushed over your panties. He groans into your mouth when he finds the wetness seeping through the fabric, cupping your cunt to feel you squirm.

“Oh, you poor thing. You needed this so bad, didn’t you?” You can almost sense some sincerity in his tease. Almost.

You’re moaning against his lips before you can form your own tease. Kyle’s touch grows more insistent, his fingers dragging up and down your wet panties until he starts gently circling your clit. Your nails dig into his arm, hips rocking into his makeshift rhythm. Already sensitive from being neglected, the rough and wet fabric against your clit leaves you whining and groaning pathetically under his touch.

“Fuck, baby, you sound so needy.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Your heavy eyes watch his gaze rake over your body to ogle the way your legs spread.

“Don’t…don’t tease me, Ky…” You groan between broken breaths and gasps. Your hips roll eagerly, bucking against the steady pressure of his fingertips. “C’mon, touch me. Please.”

You don’t mean to whine when his hand slides out from underneath your clothes. “Really impatient, aren’t we?” He mutters under his breath like he hadn’t meant for you to hear him before settling his hand on your hip. “I told you, I know what you need.”

You don’t get the chance to ask him to hurry up before he’s pulling your hips along the sofa cushions, guiding your body until you’re laid out on the furniture. You trusted him—even when you weren’t ferociously horny for his touch, you trusted him—and knew he’d make the wait worth it.

His fingers hook on the hem of your sweatpants, tugging it and your panties down your outstretched legs. The cool air hits your wet flesh and sends goosebumps over your skin. Your clothes are discarded somewhere on the floor before Kyle settles between your legs, bent down and crunched on the sofa until his face is level with your cunt.

Arms wrapped around your thighs, he kisses along the soft skin, alternating sides and nipping occasionally to feel the muscle underneath tense. As impatient as you were, you watched with rapt attention as his eyes focused on your slick cunt, sensitive enough to twitch every time you felt his breath hit.

One of his hands runs over your thigh until his rough fingertips are spreading you open. He smiles, smirking as if proud of himself. “You missed me, huh?”

You didn’t know if that was a comment on your impatience or how wet you were. Maybe both. “Maybe…just a li’l…” You pant, shivering when his warm breath ghosts over your clit as he laughs.

“Oh, I know you did. You’re fuckin’ dripping, love.”

Kyle’s eyes meet yours before his head dips down and his tongue sticks out to lick a slow stripe up your slit. The wet friction takes your breath away, nails digging into the cushion beneath you to ground yourself. His tongue spreads you apart, lapping at your arousal and gliding over your most sensitive parts.

“You taste just as good as I remember.” His words are muffled against your cunt, almost immediately drowned out by his wet slurps and your moans.

The flat of his tongue circles around your clit before gently sucking it into his mouth. The pressure already has your legs twitching and tensing, shockwaves of pleasure shooting through every nerve. He guides one of your legs up, propped against the back cushion of the sofa, before running his hand down your thigh.

Fingertips gently caress your cunt, gliding through the mess of your arousal and his saliva, teasing and circling your hole. Two thick digits push inside and the sudden stretch has your hands flying towards Kyle, fingers digging into his short curls, desperate for some part of him to hold on to.

It’s been far too long since you felt this good. Eight months too long. The attention was almost unfamiliar; something overwhelmingly delicious that only he seemed to give you. The way he sucks on your clit while his fingers pump and curl just right makes your head fall back against the armrest. You can feel yourself squeezing his fingers and throbbing against his tongue, that ache in the pit of your stomach already beginning to form.

Kyle groans before sliding his mouth off of you. “Easy, baby. Fuck, you’re grippin’ so tight…” A gentle kiss lands on the inside of your thigh as his fingers curl again. “None of your li’l boyfriends touched you like this, did they?”

If you were any more coherent, you might have said something about how jealous he sounded. But that wasn’t the point right now; right now all you were focused on was how deep his fingers hit, and how right he was.

You shake your head. “No…not like this. Not this good,” you manage to admit between moans.

“Not this good,” he echoes, proudly whispering to himself, before his head dips down again.

His lips latch around your clit again, suckling and running his tongue over it until your hips start to buck. The sounds are disgustingly lewd; wet squelches with every thrust of his fingers, the sloppy sounds of his mouth, and your wanton moans—it’s everything you’d been fantasizing about since the last time he had you.

Your eyes flutter open as you lift your head off of the armrest. Seeing Kyle, barely fitting himself on the sofa just to ravage you, makes you tighten around his fingers. “Holy shit, Ky. I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum,” you warn, panting breathlessly. Your toes curl, thighs tensing at the mounting heat in your core.

“Already? Oh, that’s a good girl,” he growls against your cunt. “Cum f’me. C’mon, show me how much you missed me.”

The hunger in his eyes makes you shudder. You were already close to the edge, but with his encouragement, you completely fell apart. With another swirl of his tongue and a harsh thrust of his fingers, your body goes taut with pleasure. The ecstasy that you’ve denied yourself for far too long shoots through your veins until your thighs are shaking.

Kyle hums contentedly at the tightness surrounding his fingers before easing them out. He quickly replaces the emptiness with his tongue, spreading you apart and lapping at your slick cum. He doesn’t pull back until you start to whine. With heavy eyes and a heaving chest, you watch him settle back on his knees, noting the way his lips and chin glisten.

That unmistakable hunger—desire and determination mixed—is still clear as day in his eyes. He leans over you, lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, and the taste and smell of yourself floods your senses. You reach out for him, twisting your fingers into his shirt to keep him close.

He groans into your mouth, the mess of tongue and teeth complimented by the sound. His hands find your waist, pushing your shirt up and sliding under layers until he can paw at your chest. You almost whine when one of his hands moves off of you until you hear the metallic jangle of his belt buckle coming undone.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you and your eyes immediately dart to his hand to watch him impatiently tug down his pants. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen his cock, but seeing it now—thick and heavy and warm as it brushes against your skin—makes all the memories from the first time flood your mind. And knowing how good he made you feel before only made you that much more eager.

Kyle wraps a hand around himself, giving his cock a few firm pumps before guiding it towards your wet slit. The head of his cock spreads your cunt and brushes against your sensitive clit with each roll of his hips. You can hear how wet you are, how you coat him in your slick with every movement, and you shudder when he groans.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you’re needy,” he sighs. His hand, still kneading your chest under your shirt, slides down to grip your waist firmly. “God, I could look at you like this all day.”

“C’mon…Don’t make me beg.” You coo, trying to coax him as your legs hook over his hips.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

“Kyle.”

“You had no problem waitin’ eight months. You can wait a bit longer, right?”

“I swear to God, Kyle, just fuck me—”

Your own shaky moan interrupts your speech, ripped from your throat as Kyle suddenly pushes the head of his cock past your entrance. He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on the side of your parted lips.

“Gotta work on your patience, love.”

You can feel every inch as he slowly eases his thick cock into you. With nails digging into the sofa cushions to ground you amidst the delicious stretch, both of you moan when he finally bottoms out. He stills long enough for you to feel the way your slick walls flutter around him.

Thumbs press gently into the dip of your hips in a reassuring squeeze. “You alright?” He asks, scanning your face for approval. A pathetic nod and an ‘uh-huh’ that sounds more like a whimper escapes your lips. “Nearly forgot how perfect you feel.”

Kyle leans back on his knees, straightening up with a devilish smirk and an even hungrier look in his eye. His pace is slow when he finally begins to rock his hips back and forth. He watches your body intently; ogling at the way your cunt swallows every inch of him, savoring the way you mold around him, keeping an eye out for any sign of discomfort.

You moan on every downstroke as he fills you with every slow thrust, the head of his cock pushing just right against that sweet spot deep inside. Still so slick and sensitive from your recent orgasm, every nerve feels alight—addicted to the fullness and the way his cock twitches inside you.

“Oh, fuck.” You whine as your hands search him out, desperate to be even closer. You can feel his muscles tense when your hands run up his arms and hold onto him tightly. “God, you fill me so good…so fuckin’ deep.”

Kyle makes a sound at that, something between a laugh and a groan. “I know, baby,” he coos softly, encouraging your touch when he leans back to pull his shirt off over his head.

There’s no hiding the way you tighten around him when you see his bare skin. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but something about watching his muscles tense with every push of his hips made your head spin. He leans closer, just enough for you to reach your hands out and splay your fingers over his chest.

“I needed you so fucking badly.” The confession tumbles from your lips without thought, forced out alongside a moan that proves how true it was. “You make me feel so good. I never—shit—never should’ve looked for someone else.”

His jaw goes tight, a low grunt in the back of his throat his only reply to your admission. His gaze drops from your face to watch where his hips meet yours, but judging by the way his chest rises with heavier, deeper breaths, you aren’t so sure it’s because he’s uncomfortable.

He’s holding back.

The thought sends a shiver down your spine and your hips buck in his direction on the next agonizingly slow thrust. “I missed you so much, Kyle.” It wasn’t a lie—your body’s reaction to him was more than enough proof of that—but you wanted to see him let go, to stop being so gentle and kind like he always was. “C’mon, fuck me like you missed me too.”

That does the trick.

Kyle mutters a swear under his breath as his hands move to grab the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs towards your chest. Your hands fall to the sofa cushion at the sudden change in position. His hips slam against yours, one foot planted on the floor so he has complete control as he drives his cock all the way within you. There’s no more finesse, no more charm—just pure need.

Hearing the way you yelp and whine at his newfound desperation makes him curse under his breath again. “I missed you…so fuckin’ much,” he grunts, the words coming out as more of a growl. “Christ, I needed this. Been needin’ you all this time. I couldn’t stop…thinkin’ about you.”

That confession makes your head swim—you wonder if this is how he felt hearing your own admission of missing him. You’d thought about the last encounter countless times, but you never would’ve thought it meant as much to him as it did. The way he pounded into you now made you convinced that he craved this just as badly as you did.

“Yeah?” You whine, smiling pathetically at him. “Oh, God, me too. I needed this, needed you.”

When his eyes meet yours, you see nothing but determination behind his gaze, feral and hungry and needy. His hands dig into the plump skin of your thighs as he holds your legs in place. “Did you think of me when they fucked you? Huh? Did you have to think about my hands? My cock?”

All you can do is nod, frantic and hurried, as a pathetic “uh-huh” is forced from your lungs. Heat pools at the bottom of your stomach, tugging at your sensitive insides with every quick punch of his cock deep inside.

Kyle groans, a deep, guttural sound that makes your slick walls flutter around him. “Yeah, they didn’t make you feel this good, did they? No one can make you feel like I do. No one fills this pretty pussy like I do, huh?”

You can’t even form a proper response, your mind blanking. Your eyes roll back, head lying against the armrest, every muscle so tense yet malleable to his will. Your lack of a response was enough proof he was right; no one else stretched and filled you the way he did.

You hear him curse again before he speaks through gritted teeth. “I would’ve given you this…any-fucking-time you wanted it. Whenever you needed me.”

Finally releasing the sofa cushion, your hands seek out the warmth of his skin, fingers curling against his arms. You could feel yourself tensing, your cunt hugging every inch of him as he slid in and out. “Ky, I’m…I’m gonna c-cum again—fuck.”

You could almost feel his stare boring through you when his grip tightens on the skin of your thighs. “That’s it, gimme one more. C’mon,” Kyle groans through his encouragement, “I’ve waited eight goddamn months. I need to feel you cum on my cock again.”

You bite your lip to hold back the pathetic moans and whimpers leaving your mouth. It was all wanton and needy—involuntary sounds pushed out of your lungs with every deep, rough thrust. The squelching of your cunt welcoming his cock fills your ears, his skin hitting yours with a satisfying slap each time.

“Let me hear you,” he coaxes, almost desperate. “I know you’re close, baby, you’re gettin’ so tight.”

It didn’t take his encouragement for another set of choked moans to slip past your lips. It was harder and harder to hold back, to fight off the mounting pressure in your core. “Fuck, Kyle, s’too much…”

“S’alright, I got you. Just cum one more time f’me, baby. Just one more.”

Maybe it was his encouragement, maybe it was the possessiveness underlying his tone, maybe it was the way his cock hit so perfectly deep, maybe it was because he was the first guy to make you feel good in months. Whatever the reason was, when you came for the second time, you felt that pleasure in every inch of your body.

Every muscle tenses, taut with pleasure as waves of ecstasy flow through you, flooding every nerve. Your nails dig into his skin and your toes curl until you’re left shaking. Your cunt hugs every inch of him, pulsing and milking him for all that he’s worth as he slowly fucks you through the high with stuttered thrusts.

“That’s it, there you go,” you hear him pant at one point. “Keep going, baby, give it to me.”

Kyle’s own sounds are barely audible as your moans fill the air, but he curses and groans as he watches your body tense and throb and twitch. The obscenely lewd sound of your squelching cunt is even more obvious now with the slick cum coating his cock.

Just as the last tremors of your orgasm start to fade, he pulls out hastily with a groan. He releases your legs from his grip, and the ache you know you’ll feel soon is pushed to the back of your mind when he leans down to plant a kiss on your lips.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, at your flushed sweaty skin, to watch you pant and barely have the energy to look back up at him. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

Planting another kiss on your lips, you can feel Kyle shift to wrap a hand around himself. Stroking himself steadily between your legs, his breathing grows heavier between each kiss, the wet sound of his cock covered in your cum sliding against his palm hitting your ears. It’s not until you reach down into the space between your bodies that he stops.

You don’t stop kissing him as you nudge his hand off of his cock to replace his rough, calloused touch with your much softer one. He grunts almost immediately, hips bucking into your hand as it wraps snugly around him. You try to mimic the pace he had set, pumping the length of his cock, the slick of your cum making the movement fluid and easy.

“Fuck, just like that…” His hands reach past you to grab the cushion beneath your body. You catch a glance of him, watching his eyebrows knit tight on his forehead, before he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

His breath hits your skin, warm and heavy, sending a shiver down your spine as he moans and grunts. His hips stutter as he bucks into your hand a final time, cock twitching as his cum hits your stomach. Your hand works out every drop until he's wincing and pulling his hips away.

There are a few beats of silence, the only sound being the two sets of heavy breaths as you both come down from a much-needed high. Though your senses start to come back and your body grounds itself against the sofa cushions and his skin, it still doesn’t feel real somehow. But despite being an unbelievable act, you don’t feel any regret this time.

Kyle’s the first one to move, eventually pulling back enough to look down at you. “Feel better?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Even through heavy eyes, you can’t miss the way he smiles. He sits back on his knees to tuck his softening cock back into his pants and you watch as his eyes study the mess on your stomach before you look at it yourself. Just the sight of his cum pooling on your skin sends warmth directly to your core. He leans over to the table, grabbing what few tissues were left after your earlier crying spells, to clean the mess he’d left on you.

Nothing but silence for a moment as Kyle carefully runs the tissue over your stomach as you bask in the afterglow. It’s all the reassurance about him that you need. There’s an unspoken desire in the warmth of his eyes, in the way he looks at you and caresses your skin like you’re worthy of worship. The way he makes you feel—wanted—has your heart fluttering in your chest.

You eventually break the silence with a sigh. “Thank you, Kyle. I…I do feel better. A lot better.”

“Good. That’s good.” He only looks up to throw the soiled tissues in the bin next to the sofa. “Sorry for, uh…Y’know, makin’ you a mess.” He gestures to the lower half of your body with a shrug.

You raise an eyebrow at that. “Wasn’t that your intention?”

That makes him smile. A shy, almost nervous smile that you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen him wear. “You got me.” One last swipe of the soft tissue against your skin to ensure you’re clean. “At least I’m cleanin’ you up afterward.”

“Yeah, aren’t you just a proper gentleman?”

Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. “Hey, I bet those other blokes never bothered.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you roll your eyes at his sentiment. “That’s because those blokes never bothered to make me cum in the first place.” You have to smile at him, at the way he cringes at himself for bringing up your previous partners. “If you want reassurance, you’ve got it. They’ve got nothin’ on you, Garrick.”

“I know, I know. I jus’ like to hear you say it.” Kyle leans down, meeting you halfway for a kiss that’s much softer yet holds the weight of the world behind. His hands skirt over your hips before trailing up your naked skin and resting on your waist. “You need a proper wash. C’mon.”

The ache in your muscles starts to set in as the bliss slowly fades. You groan at the stiffness in your knees when he pulls you up with him to stand on your feet. There’s sweat drying on your back, a familiar stickiness between your legs, and your feet feel unsteady.

But Kyle wraps an arm around you to keep you from stumbling and wobbling on your way to the restroom. His fingertips glided over your skin, tracing curves and dips with reverent ease. He held you like you were porcelain, even after you were in the water.

Many things could be said about Kyle. Most of them circled back to his generosity, his willingness to help, even when you felt like an unwanted burden. But he gave you everything you could ever want. And maybe one day you’ll realize it’s because he needs your helping hands just as much as you need his.

#sorry for my absence i was busy and my only free time was going towards this beast #clown writes #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz smut #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz garrick #cod smut #cod x reader #call of duty

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delicatebarness · 4 months

Text

cry baby | prologue

Summary: Meet The Avengers, the infamous friendship group. Known for causing trouble all around town, and being feared by all. Expect the youngest member of the group, she was different and she was protected.

Warning: Smoking. Alcohol. Crying.

Word Count: 1179

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A/N: The final results of the poll were 68.4% in favor of posting this now so here you go. I really hope I did this idea justice and you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think <3

Tags: buckys0whore |

The bar hummed with music, laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional roar of a motorcycle outside. In the corner booth, among the haze of cigarette smoke and the dim glow of neon lights, sat a group of friends, claimed as The Avengers.

Bucky Barnes leaned back in the booth, his eyes constantly scanning the room with a gaze as piercing as the edge of his knife. His presence commanded respect anywhere he went, without raising his voice. He was an enigma wrapped in leather.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he observed the scene at the bar. Your presence was a stark contrast to the rough ambiance of the bar. Dressed in a delicate flowing dress, out of place amidst the leather and tattoos, you were the embodiment of vulnerability in a world that praised itself on toughness. Your gaze darted nervously around the room as you waited for your drink.

Bucky’s grip tightened around the beer bottle he had been nursing as he watched the bartender lean close to you. His jaw clenched with a quiet intensity, some instinct urged him to intervene, to protect you from whatever the guy was trying to do. But, before he could make a move he noticed Steve, your older brother and his best friend, standing closer to you. It was obvious from Steve’s expression and assertive stance that he was telling the bartender to step back.

Turning back his attention to the booth, he caught Natasha’s knowing smirk and Sam’s amused glance. They also had been watching the scene at the bar and offered small nods of approval toward Steve as you both made your way to the booth with the drinks. You were a tight-knit group, and there was an unspoken understanding that you would always protect one another. Mostly, it was you that they were protecting.

Your emotions began to bubble to the surface, tears threatened to spill over. The reasons for them, you were unsure of. Was it the presence of the new bartender? Perhaps Steve’s protective demeanor had caused them. Or maybe it was simply the atmosphere of smoke and dust. Regardless, as you settled back into the booth, the sight of Bucky’s eye-rolling toward you only worsened the urge to cry.

“Spill the beans, crybaby,” Bucky’s voice cut through the chatter of your friends around you. “What’s the verdict today? Tears of joy or sadness?” his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned forward.

Your cheeks flushed, and you tilted your head up hoping gravity will stop the tears from spilling. “I, I don’t know,” you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

As the night wore on, the bar grew increasingly rowdy and you found yourself retreating into the safety of your thoughts. No matter how hard you tried to hide your teary eyes, you couldn’t escape Bucky’s watchful gaze.

As closing time drew near, there was a subtle shift that settled over the group, a silent acknowledgment that their night was coming to an end. With reluctant sighs, you began to gather your belongings. The rest of your friends picked up their packets of cigarettes and leather jackets, as you picked up your sketchbook and pencil. Preparing to leave the warmth of the bar for the cold embrace of the night, you begin to make your way to the exit.

Bucky remained rooted in his spot in the booth, his gaze fixed on some unseen point around the bar. “Hey, Buck, you coming?” Steve called out, his voice tinged with concern as he glanced back at his friend.

You could almost see the cogs working in his mind as he hesitated, clenching his jaw. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer,” he finally replied, his voice low.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, confusion took over her features as Natasha spoke for you all, “Everything okay, Barnes?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

He offered you all a tight-lipped smile, a silent reassurance that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah I’m fine,” he beamed at you all with an uncharacteristic glee. His gaze flickered over to you for a brief moment before returning to your friends. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,”

With reluctant nods and murmured goodbyes, you and the rest of The Avengers made your way out of the bar, leaving Bucky alone. As the door swung shut behind you, Bucky let out a heavy sigh before making his way over to the bar.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky climbed the stairs to your apartment door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. An hour must have passed since you would have gotten home. As he reached the familiar door, he hesitated for a moment, his already grazed knuckles hovering over the wood before finally summoning the courage to knock.

The door swung open, revealing your concerned expression as you took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, a black eye already began to form.

“Bucky? What happened?” you exclaimed, your voice filled the air with concern as you ushered him inside.

He offered you a weary smile, his gaze met yours with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. “You should have seen the other guy,” he replied, his smile turning into a playful smirk.

You arched an eyebrow skeptically, as you gestured for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. “Let’s just get you patched up,” you sent him a reassuring smile as you moved around your kitchen to fetch the first aid kit.

As you began cleaning and dressing his wounds, he couldn’t help but marvel at the tenderness of your touch. Your hands moved with practiced precision while you stood in between his tights. Despite his attempts to downplay his injuries, he winced slightly as the antiseptic stung, his jaw clenching.

A wave of emotion washed over you, and tears began to well up in your eyes, a silent testament to the guilt you carried from causing him more pain and discomfort.

Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, forgetting about his own pain momentarily as he reached out to gently cup your cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her distress. A gesture as gentle as it was instinctual. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hand never leaving your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering away from his as you struggled to find the words you wanted to say, “I, I don’t like when you’re hurt,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest as he realized the hurt he was causing. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret as he felt your tears dampen his skin. “I’m sorry,”

In the warmth of his embrace, you found comfort, and the weight of your worries subsided by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, calming your emotions with every passing second.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

#cry baby series #cry baby #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #biker au #greaser au #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #steve rogers x sister!reader

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cc--2224 · 5 months

Text

I'll Show You Heaven

Pairing: Crosshair x F!Reader

Summary: Crosshair was always someone of interest to you, much to the other clones’ dismay. When he hears a Reg disrespecting you, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. You were told that there was no point trying to fix him, but you knew you could handle dangerous; although it turned out that to you, he wasn’t dangerous at all.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Alcohol and smoking mentions; drunk clones being assholes including one putting the reader in a dangerous/uncomfortable situation but nothing happens! Smut - masturbation, Crosshair having dirty thoughts, oral (m and f receiving), biting/marking, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it!!, praise kink, one instance of Cross being too rough but he corrects it, porn with feelings, language, tons of compliments/pet names, jealous maybe slightly protective Crosshair

Notes: Very slightly based on the song I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Word Count: ~6.4k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

It was just another day. The haze of smoke lingering in the bar, the loud laughter and chatter amongst the patrons, and him.

You had gotten to know most of the regulars at 79s, including Clone Force 99, but you never made it a point to become their friend. The clones, usually drunk, would flirt with you endlessly, but never the 99s. They kept to themselves, and you had learned over the months that they weren't very popular with the others.

You hadn't considered there were social hierarchies among the clones, but you supposed they were no different than any other group of people.

You traced the smoke back to the tall, silver-haired man. He sat at one of the tall tables, not quite facing the bar, but enough that you could see his sharp features silhouetted by the pulsing lights.

He never looked pleased to be there, he seemed to have a permanent scowl, and you couldn't even recall a time where he said more than three words at a time, and none of them kind.

And while these might be negative traits to most, but to you, these traits mixed with his deep brown eyes that you had caught on you once or twice, and the smirk that came along with it, the expression of an all-too-confident man, only helped to draw you in to him.

You had a feeling that he was one to put up a front, wall himself in so that he didn't appear vulnerable. it made sense for a soldier, but there was a part of you that wanted to see what he was like when the walls came down.

"Hey! Cyar'ika!" You heard from behind you, you turned to face the clone holding his glass up to you. "You gonna give me a top up or stare at the reject squad all night?"

You rolled your eyes and turned to him too quickly to see the sharp glare of the man you were just staring at point at the rowdy clone. After refilling his glass, you set it down in front of him and gave him a warning, "Everyone is welcome in my bar, and everyone gets attended to while they're here. Understood, trooper?"

Before he could answer, you walked toward the centre of the bar, making a point to keep an eye on all your patrons so they wouldn't also get the wrong idea about who was getting more attention. Your eyes naturally wandered back to where the 99s were sitting, briefly meeting with the same brown eyes you had been silently admiring just moments ago, the tattooed crosshairs outlining one of them perfectly.

He turned his head back toward the rest of his squad but you could almost see him glance at you through the corner of his eyes at least once before you were called away again.

"Y'know what?" The loud clone called out again, "I think you should just come home with me. I could make you forget all about them." He jerked his head toward the 99s.

"And I think you've had too much to drink." You chided, ignoring his request for another top up.

"C'mon," He groaned. "If you're gonna cut me off, you should at least make it up to me. Wanna come home with a real man? I bet those 99s could never measure up to us if you get my meaning. Whattaya say, copikla?

Several clones laughed at his words, your Mando'a wasn't perfect, but based on their laughs, you assumed it wasn't nice.

Before you could get security to kick him out, you heard a chair scrape against the floor and then the crack of knuckles on flesh. You didn't even see the tall clone cross the bar before he was laying into the loud one.

You ran out from behind the bar and tried to pull him back, as much as you didn't want to, you also didn't want him to be permanently banned either.

Once he noticed you pulling his arm back, he stopped.

"What's going on?" One of the security guards had come over, hearing the commotion.

"Nothing," you said before gesturing to the floor, "He had too much to drink. Best if he goes home."

The security looked at you carefully, making sure you were okay before helping the clone to his feet and walking him out of the bar.

You sighed and returned back to where you were standing before, watching the other clones glare but cautiously move out of the way of the 99.

He started walking back to his table before pausing and turning to look at you, his features almost seeming softer now.

"You didn't have to cover for me." He said, a toothpick lodged between his lips.

You shrugged, "He was getting on my nerves, deserved the punch if you ask me. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay." You smiled up at him.

You could handle yourself, you've been working at 79s for a while, you knew how unruly people could get when alcohol was involved, and as much as you could handle people yelling at you, you didn't like when your regulars hurled insults at groups who were just minding their own business. Especially when, to your understanding, they got enough of that back on their homeworld.

He hummed in response.

"Can I get you guys anything?" You asked after a brief silence had fallen.

"No, we're heading out. See you around." Almost on cue, the rest of his crew stood up and began to leave.

— — —

“You shouldn't have done that.” Hunter warned him quietly when they had returned to the Marauder.

Crosshair shoved past him to get into the ship.

“Regs will always take each other's side, if you get reported for starting a fight…”

“Again,” Tech chimed in.

“I'll deal with it if it happens. Regs are probably too drunk to remember anyway.”

“Why'd you attack him, anyway?” Wrecker asked.

His eyebrows furrowed, “Didn't you hear him? He was treating her like his little pet.”

The others looked at each other, seemingly sharing the same thought between them.

Hunter's voice didn't betray his thoughts, “Even still, you should go back and apologize. Probably scared the poor girl.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes at Hunter's order.

“No promises.”

He went to his bunk and discarded his armour, laying on his bunk in his blacks. He couldn't seem to get your face out of his head. The way your eyes met, how you took his side even though his squad was right, he did start the fight. Your smile when you made sure that he was okay.

This wasn't the first time he had seen you, but it was the first time the two of you had ever spoken; he didn't do small talk, Hunter and Wrecker did.

But he wanted to talk to you again, he wanted to see you again, see you smiling up at him.

The more you crept into his thoughts, the more he couldn't get you to leave.

Eventually with the solitude of his bunk, his thoughts got the better of him. He imagined how you would look, naked and squirming under him. How you'd taste, how you'd feel around him.

He couldn't shoo these thoughts away, he found himself palming his cock over his blacks at the thought of you taking it into your mouth.

He had been with others before, but it was rare for him to feel like this. Usually when he’s with someone it’s just to get his own release, but thinking of you was different. He wanted to make you come, to hear you cry for him, to feel you come on his cock, on his fingers, whatever you’d allow.

He wanted you, all of you. And he couldn’t stand the thought of some Reg pretending to flatter you just to get you into his bunk. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone who would treat you right, make you feel good, someone who could be good for you. Someone like him.

He reached his hand into his blacks, pulling himself out and stroking it. He let his mind continue to wander, imagining everything all over again as a loop. He thought of your voice, telling him how good he was, telling him how he was made for you, how no one else could satisfy you like him. He thought of marking your neck, your tits, your thighs.

As he began to reach his climax, he stroked himself faster, he thought about filling you up with his release, he didn’t know where, whether it was your throat or your cunt, he just knew he wanted to come inside you.

This thought sent him over the edge as he spilled out over his hand with a groan.

He knew it wasn't right to think this way, he didn't even know you, but he also knew there was no way for you to know what was going through his mind.

But would it be so bad if you did?

— — —

Something about his expression when he finally came back to the bar was different than it had been a few days ago. Not bad by any means, just not how he normally looked.

Part of it was likely due to the fact that he was in civilian clothes instead of his armour, nut most of all, his ever-present scowl seemed softer, and he didn't wear a smirk when he noticed you looking at him, instead he almost seemed nervous.

He walked toward the bar and sat on one of the stools, scanning to make sure none of the gathering clones were the one from a few rotations ago.

"Can I get you something?" You asked him with a smile.

He blinked like he still somehow wasn't expecting you to talk to him after what happened, but then shook his head. "No, nothing."

He sighed, looking down at the counter in front of him. "I wanted to..."

You looked at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"My actions the other day, that wasn't okay."

Your face softened into a small smile. "Don't worry about it, nothing to apologize for."

"Did the Reg apologize to you?"

"Oh, no I haven't seen him, but like I said, nothing to apologize for. I'm used to it." You told him nonchalantly. His gaze snapped up to meet yours and his eyes narrowed.

"Used to it? Being drunk doesn't give them an excuse to be assholes to you." His voice raised slightly.

"Really, it's fine. I'm just sorry you had to hear him talk about your squad like that for so long."

He laughed quietly and used your words back at you, "We're used to it."

Neither of you said anything for a bit. You worked on pouring another glass for one of the other patrons at the bar and then turned back to face him.

"I see you guys around here often, but until the other day, you and I have never spoken, I'd like to change that.” your kind smile at him caused his heart to pound in his chest, but when he didn't answer, you continued. “You have a name, trooper?"

"Crosshair."

You smirked then told him yours.

"Where's the rest of your squad today?"

"They stayed back, wanted me to make sure you were okay. But since you are, I should be going."

He was out of the stool and heading toward the door before you could convince him to stay. He needed to clear his head, it wasn't like him to feel so reserved and shy, but he felt your presence hammering on the walls he had built for himself and he didn't know if he was ready for them to come down.

You watched him as he left and smiled to yourself. Was he really concerned about your opinion of him so much that he came all the way here just to apologize? Or maybe he just wanted to make sure the other trooper kept his distance. Either way, seeing him was always a treat, and now you had a name to go with his face.

"I'd be careful of him." One of the clones said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"Clone Force 99 isn't known for following rules. They have the highest success rate out of any squad, but the way they complete their missions goes against most protocols we have. That one, Crosshair, he's their sniper, a dangerous one at that, and definitely not a friendly sort of person, someone you don't want to get on the bad side of. Not someone you can just fix with that pretty smile of yours."

You listened to him as he warned you, but even still, Crosshair and his squad intrigued you. You wanted to get to know them better.

Crosshair had caught your eye from the moment you had first seen him, and now the gap between you was finally starting to close.

You wanted to be his friend, but you were also curious about being more than that. You wanted to see what he was like when the two of you were alone. Was he sweet? Was he demanding? Was he some mix of both?

You wanted to know what his lips would feel like, what he would taste like, how he'd feel. Thoughts that sparked a flame in your core. You didn't know if you'd ever get an answer to any of them, but the world worked in mysterious ways.

— — —

Once everyone had cleared out and you got some cleaning done, it was finally time to go home.

It was late, too late to be wandering around the understreets of Coruscant alone, but you knew the most direct way back to your apartment, and had a blaster set to stun, just in case.

You turned down the alleyway, and you saw a figure push itself off the wall and walk toward you.

"Awful late, isn't it?" You could hear the faint accent of a clone, and the audible slurring of one that had too much to drink.

"Come on, copikla, let me walk you home."

He stumbled toward you. When he came into the light, you could see the black eye that Crosshair had given him, still purple and blue despite the days that had passed.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Don't be like that, I wanted to apologize and do something nice for you. C'mon." He got closer to you and you felt your hand shake as you reached for your blaster.

"There's no need for that," He told you when you had the blaster fixed on him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then go back to your barracks, trooper."

He smirked, "Y'see the other day, your friend from the reject squad, he gave me this-" He said as he pointed to his eye. "All because I gave you a compliment, so really, you o-"

Before he could finish his sentence you saw a blue bolt whiz past you, hitting the clone and stunning him.

You turned to see where it came from and at the other side of the alleyway, Crosshair stood with a pistol drawn.

He walked toward you, "He hasn't had a very good week." He pointed out, looking at the clone on the ground before bending down to look at his armour, looking for his identifier.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting his ID. He'll probably be sent back to Kamino for a while for breaking protocol."

He brought his comm up to his face. "Tech, I’m sending you coordinates and a trooper ID, arrange a pickup."

"Copy." You heard the distorted voice through the comm link before Crosshair began typing in numbers.

"You seem confused." He said, looking at you now.

"I thought your squad didn't care about rules and protocol."

He smirked, "Regs have been talking about us, huh? That's true, we do our own thing and don't take orders very well but.. we wouldn't put a civ in danger in a dark alleyway, he should have known better."

"Well, thank you for helping me, but.. how did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't. After I left the bar earlier, I went back to our ship, but there aren't many places there to think quietly so I went for a walk."

"I see. I guess it's a good thing you were here. I have a blaster for my own safety, but I froze." You looked at the gun in your hand and sighed.

"Don't worry about it, the Coruscant guard will be here before long to deal with him.”

He turned on his heels and began walking away and you watched him before looking down.

“Crosshair?” You called out before he could get too far.

He turned to look at you again but didn't say anything.

“I'm not too far but.. could you walk with me? I just…” You trailed off looking at the stunned clone at your feet.

He walked back over to you, “Of course.”

He was silent for the remainder of the walk, but he walked with you to your door.

"Would you like to come in?" You asked as you punched in the key code.

"You sure?"

You nodded and the door hissed open, you walked in, followed by Crosshair.

He looked around your place, it was small but it was inviting.

He knew he should have just gone back to the Marauder, but part of him wanted to make sure you felt safe, and another, much more hidden part of him thought that if you had invited him in, maybe his thoughts of you hadn't been as one-sided as he thought.

"Make yourself at home." You told him.

He sat on the small sofa in the living room, his arm draped over the back, and you stared at him, remembering what the clone had said at the bar. If Crosshair really was someone to look out for, you didn't see it. You would even go as far as to say that he was being kind to you.

"Like what you see?" He asked when he caught you staring at him, his tone slightly huskier now that he was indoors.

You rolled your eyes, and walked over toward the couch, sitting at the opposite end from him, but turned to look at him.

"What does copikla mean? I know cyar'ika and mesh'la because I get those a lot from the regulars, but that guy was the only one to call me that."

He looked at you and frowned slightly. "It means cute, but in a way you'd say to a child or a tooka kit, not a woman. That Reg wasn't paying you a compliment when he called you that."

"I see. And that's why you jumped him?"

"I had enough of him long before that point, but yes."

You didn't notice that as you spoke, the more distance had been closed between you and Crosshair until your knees brushed lightly.

"What if it were a compliment?" You asked.

"I guess it depends on how you reacted, if you weren't comfortable." His eyes bore into yours now. "But you seem to like the compliments from the Regs."

You shrugged, "As I said earlier, I'm used to it."

His hand moved toward you, gently caressing your face. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips brush against your skin and you leaned into his touch.

"Would you react the same if I complimented you?" He asked, his voice a little more than a whisper.

"You could try." You answered. “See what happens.”

His hand traveled down to rest on the side of your neck, with his thumb stroking your jawline.

He shifted slightly closer to you, eyes half-lidded. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it with how quiet it was in the room.

Crosshair leaned over to you and looked into your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation, and when he didn't find any, he pulled you into a kiss. It wasn't demanding, but it wasn't gentle either. You could tell that this is what he had been thinking about when he said he had to clear his mind.

Neither of you had been sure if the other wanted this, but when your lips connected, you both figured it out.

His tongue pushed into your mouth and he swallowed the moan you gave when you tasted him.

His other hand had made its way over to you, resting on your waist. Your hands rested on his chest at first, but slowly wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

He sat back to look at you, leaned against the arm of the couch, lips starting to swell, pupils dilated, and he smirked.

"You're beautiful." He told you. You knew he was trying to get a reaction from you, but his voice was sincere.

You could feel yourself getting warmer, and your stomach beginning to coil with the dull ache you felt between your legs.

You slid off the couch and gently took his hand, pulling him up with you.

He seemed confused for a moment, so you clarified.

"Figured you'd want somewhere a bit more comfortable."

His smirk returned, "Presumptuous of you."

"If I'm wrong, we can continue to sit here."

"Oh no, you’re not wrong. Lead the way, mesh'la."

You had heard the Mando'a compliments so many times they didn't even feel like real words to you, but Crosshair saying it brought new life.

When you didn't move, he leaned in to kiss you, but you ducked out of the way and began walking to your room.

He watched you walk away, slightly offended when you dodged his kiss, but that disappeared when he looked at your hips swaying, beckoning him to follow you.

When you walked into your bedroom, you turned on the lamp beside your bed before sitting with your back to the pillows, watching the door for him.

He entered slowly and you finally took a good look at him. He seemed much taller in your apartment than he did at the bar. You eyed him from head to toe, feeling your core clench slightly when you noticed the raised outline of his crotch straining against his jeans.

"Come here," you said, your voice low.

He walked around to the end of your bed, crawling over you with one leg on either side of your ankles.

"Closer." You breathed.

He moved upward, hovering parallel to your hips, eyes fixed on your core.

"Good boy,." You praised him. You didn't expect him to groan at that, but as if something ignited in him, he dipped down, kissing your stomach, then your hips, and moving down to kiss your thighs before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, looking up at you to ask permission.

"Yes, please, Crosshair."

He worked your jeans and panties off in one fell swoop, throwing them to a corner somewhere once they were off. You gasped when you felt his lips on your upper thigh, slowly trailing higher.

You arched your back slightly, desperate to feel him, but he smirked against your leg, biting into the soft flesh, before kissing the mark he had left.

He moaned when he felt your fingernails scratch against his scalp, trying to guide his head when you needed him.

He left another mark on your other thigh before licking a stripe from that mark all the way to your centre.

Your back arched again, pulling his face closer to you.

"You like that, mesh'la?" His voice vibrating against you.

"Y-yes!" You threw your head back in pleasure when you felt his tongue circle your entrance before swiping up between your folds, tasting all you had to give him.

"G-good boy, keep... keep going."

His hands found their way to your hips, holding them in place, you were certain that he was going to leave bruises on each one but you didn't care.

His lips clasped around your clit and he sucked so hard you saw stars, and then he went back to using his tongue, circling the bud slowly, trying to pull every moan from you that he could.

"Say it again." He said against your centre.

"Say what again?" You teased, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"Call me a-" He licked you up and down again, not finishing his question.

"Oh, you want me to call you a good boy?" You asked sweetly.

He rutted his hips against the bed as his tongue dove into you.

You cried out his name. The intensity of him drinking you up had begun to build and with it, you could feel yourself beginning to come undone. You were so close, you could feel your walls clench around his tongue, and he pulled it out.

You looked down at him in time to see his hand slide down from your hip, and he planted two fingers inside you, curling them against your walls.

"Go-good, you're so good, Crosshair, know just what I want."

He groaned, grinding against the bed again before adding another finger, drawing a cry from your lips.

His thumb took over for his tongue against your clit as his long fingers worked on opening you up. He placed gentle, yet desperate kisses wherever he could, nipping at your soft flesh.

"Cro-Crosshair I- I'm so close."

He sucked another mark onto your thigh and groaned when he felt your hand tighten around his hair.

Your hips bucked as you felt yourself get closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, come all over my fingers." His voice coaxed you further, "Let me feel you."

His tongue went back to your center, working circles around you again as your walls continued to clench around him.

It didn't take much else to pull the orgasm out of you, you cried out his name as you came undone, legs twitching and hips bucking as he continued to work you through it.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and kissed your center once again before leaving a trail of kisses up toward your neck, slowly lifting your shirt as he went before it, too, was thrown into the corner of your room. He nipped and kissed the sensitive skin, leaving you another mark before kissing your jawline and lips once more.

He was perched above you, leaning on one of his elbows while he straddled your hips, his jeans doing little to hide the feeling of his stiffness pressing into you.

“How was that, beautiful?” He asked you, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Perfect,” you replied. “I think you deserve some attention now too, for being so good to me.” He bucked his hips involuntarily into you.

He brought his hand up to cup your face. His fingers still wet from your slick. He rested them against your lips before pushing them past. You moaned against his digits as he pressed them against your tongue, making you taste yourself. You circled each of his fingers with your tongue before sucking on them gently. He pressed his head into where your shoulder and neck meet as he reluctantly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, thinking of nothing else but how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Do you want me to fuck you, cyar'ika?”

“Gods, yes, but first I want to taste you.”

His cock twitched against his jeans.

“I didn't know you could read minds.” He said, his voice low.

“I can't, I just know how I want to reward my good boy.”

Before he could say anything else, he got up from you and sat back on his heels, undoing the button on his jeans, and unzipping them just enough to relieve some of the strain.

You sat up and crawled toward him, resting your hands on his thighs, looking up at him for any sign of discomfort before you pulled on the waistband.

“You know, it's not very fair that you're so covered and I'm not.” You told him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“No? Well, we can fix that.” He quickly pulled his shirt off before throwing it aside, revealing his toned chest. Your hands brushed against his abdomen and he sighed. You began idly tracing the outlines of his muscles and scars, and he took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to his, kissing you gently at first then with more passion. You felt him bite your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands glided across his skin before finding the waistband of his jeans again.

Without breaking the kiss, he helped you to disrobe him, and when you pulled down on his briefs, he sucked in a breath, feeling his cock spring free.

You looked down at it and instinctively parted your lips slightly, feeling your pussy clench around nothing in anticipation.

“You just going to stare at it all night?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “Can't wait to taste you, to feel you fuck my mouth.”

You saw his cock twitch at your words and you looked up at him with a smirk. “Is that what you want?”

Instead of answering, he laced his fingers through your hair, guiding you down toward him. You were bent over, using your elbows for support with your ass in the air.

“I could get used to this view,” Crosshair said. You didn't have to look up to know he was staring at your ass, but you pulled his gaze back to the back of your head when you kissed the side of his length. His breath hitched at each gentle kiss you gave him, and you heard him try to subdue a moan when you licked a stripe along the vein at the bottom all the way to the head, cleaning up any pre-cum that had already begun to spill out.

“F-Fuck,” He sputtered.

You peered up at him through your lashes and his grip tightened around your hair, trying his hardest to not buck his hips and force himself into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his head before you took it into your mouth.

He whispered your name as he guided you further down onto him, and you took him inch by inch.

You couldn't fit him all, you felt yourself gag slightly when he got to the back of your throat, which earned another moan from him, and you wrapped one hand around whatever had been left out.

“Gods, you're taking me so well, wanna feel you gag on me again.”

You moaned around him as he began using your mouth. He bucked his hips into you as he brought your head further down onto him. Your throat closed around him once again and you felt tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

You ran your tongue across the bottom of him again, bobbing your head up and down on him, swallowing around him, sucking on him, all while he was bucking his hips into you.

His thrusts started to quicken, becoming slightly more erratic, and you gave a warning tap on his leg, you couldn't take him that quickly. He understood and slowed down.

“S-Sorry, beautiful, didn't mean to hurt you, I'm just getting close..”

You removed your hand from the base of his length and gently caressed his balls as you continued bobbing on his cock.

“Gonna make me- I'm gonna come down your throat if you- if you keep that up.” He said between pants.

You hummed around him and kept going. You felt him begin to tighten up and you could hear quiet curses fall from his lips.

He moaned your name as your cheeks hollowed out around him. He stilled inside your mouth, and you felt hot spurts of him hit the back of your throat. You swallowed everything he gave you before pulling off of him, a trail of saliva keeping you connected to him for a moment longer before you sat up on your knees.

He was breathing heavily and when he looked at you, you could still see his eyes full of lust.

“Cyar'ika,” He breathed out. “You are so incredible.”

You leaned forward to kiss him before you felt yourself fall back onto the pillows with him caging you in with his arms.

His kisses were hungry, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and you on your tongue.

“Want to fuck you. Want to be so good for you.” He said almost into your mouth. “Want to hear you scream my name as I come inside you.”

His words elicited another moan from you, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue between your lips again.

His cock began pressing into your leg as you felt him getting hard again.

“Crosshair,” you said quietly. He stopped and looked at you, afraid he might have crossed a line. “Lie down.”

He got up from on top of you and rolled onto his back as you moved to straddle his torso.

You kiss him gingerly on the lips, and then his neck. You felt his hands come up and rest on your hips.

“You gonna be good for me?”

He nodded quickly. You kissed the tip of his nose before positioning yourself above his cock. He bucked his hips once trying to close the distance.

“Patience.” You told him before sinking down on him.

Heaven.

That was the only word that could describe how he felt inside of you. His eyes screwed shut, your tight walls felt like they were suffocating his cock as they fluttered around him and he needed to feel more of it. You threw your head back and he tightened his grip on your hips. You sunk yourself down slowly until he had fully disappeared into you.

Once you had adjusted to how he felt, you moved your hips against him as you leaned over him, seeking out his lips. He kissed you back with fervour as his hands slid around to your back and he bucked his hips to meet your movements.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back up with you. His face was buried in your chest when you straighted your back, and you could feel his lips press against your breasts, and then his teeth.

You moaned at the feeling, rolling your hips into him faster. His hands glided along your skin back to your hips. He held them tightly as he lifted you off of him slightly before shoving you back down.

“Fuck, Crosshair!” You cried, feeling him even deeper inside you.

He groaned as your walls constricted around him again, this time when he lifted you off of him, he had nearly pulled out completely before slamming himself back in.

You panted out quiet curses as you tightened your arms around him.

“This okay?” He asked you as he did it again.

“Yes, gods, you feel so good. Want you to fuck me harder, feels so good.”

You didn't need to ask him twice. His hands slid up to your back as he eased you down on the bed before putting his hands on either side of your head.. He used his knee to push your leg up, opening you up more for him.

His slammed himself all the way in again, each thrust seeming to reach further and further. Your hands fell above your head and he used the opportunity to grab both of your wrists with his hand, pinning them above you as he drove himself into you again at a brutal pace, relishing in the way your tits bounced with each of his thrusts.

“Gods Crosshair, being such a good boy for me,” you panted.

His lips landed on your neck, kissing you then biting you, leaving another mark on the soft skin.

“You're marking me up so well.” You said as he gave you another love bite just above the last one.

“Gotta make sure everyone knows that you're mine, make sure that trooper knows who you belong to.”

You arched your back with a moan, just as he thrusted into you. With his relentless pace, you knew you wouldn't last much longer, his words were only sending you further over the edge.

“Getting so close, Crosshair,” you said between thrusts.

He answered by bringing his free hand down to rub circles around your clit.

“Come on my cock, wanna feel you come, wanna hear you scream for me.”

The coil tightened again, he felt your walls squeezing him and his breath hitched.

“I'm gonna come with you, angel,” He told you. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Inside, I want to feel you fill me up.”

His grip on your wrists tightened as his pace with his other hand quickened, pulling moans from you with each thrust.

“Pl-please, I'm so cl- so close,” you whined, getting more desperate for your release.

He knew that he couldn't keep going for much longer as his thrusts became more erratic, but he was determined to wait for you.

Your moans grew louder and you clamped around his cock more with each thrust. The build up was getting to be too much, until eventually the knot in your stomach came undone, you screamed his name as your orgasm finally crashed over you.

“That's it, just like that,” He said, his hand moved from your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours as he thrusted as far into you as he could, spilling into you, painting your walls with his his release.

You both stayed as you were, panting, looking into each other's eyes and then his lips came crashing down onto yours as he pulled himself out of you.

“You're incredible,” you told him, completely blissed out.

“So are you.” He buried his face in your neck, not moving from on top of you.

“Shower?” You asked, and he sighed and nodded into you.

“Please.”

He got up off you and took your hand, waiting for you to lead him.

“I take it you liked the compliments.” He said, more of a statement than a question.

“Hm?”

“Unless that’s how you always act when a clone compliments you.”

You shook your head, “No, that was reserved only for you.”

He had a smug smile as you began to walk to the fresher with him in tow.

“Can't wait to see what the others say when you walk into the bar, with my marks all over you.” He said, grabbing your hips from behind, pulling you back toward him.

“Well, not all over me, but there's still time, if you're good.”

You escaped from his grip and he all but dragged you into the refresher.

#tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfic #crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #crosshair fic #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair x reader smut #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch smut

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megamindsecretlair · 1 year

Text

Pray For Me

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!Shy!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), size kink, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of jail, smoking, and drinking. Established friendship.

Summary: Franklin has just been released from jail. Jerome and Louie welcome him home in style. You had grown up around the corner from Jerome and you stop by to show Franklin a little love.

Word Count: 3,404k

A/N: Sometimes you gotta take your own advice. I was nervous to write this. But we are our own worst critics! I had fun writing this though, and hopefully it's one of many. Hello brainrot. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: Special shoutout to @planetblaque for encouraging me to watch this show and fall in love with this man!

You heard the music before you rounded the corner with your friends. You tugged on your skirt for the thousandth time, wondering if you should’ve just worn jeans and been done with it.

“Girl, you look fine, c’mon,” your friend said and pulled you into the house. Damn, it’d been a good while since you were here. Probably not since the fourth when Jerome nearly set the roof on fire. There were plenty of bodies spilling out of the house, people hanging on the porch and in the front yard.

Plumes of smoke rose into the air with the loud stink of weed. “How you doin’ ladies,” someone said as you passed by the front door.

“I thought you said this was more lowkey,” you said. Somehow, you didn’t think Franklin was into…all of this. You grew up on the block near his uncle, so it was nothing for you to see Franklin from time to time. Over the years, he only got more handsome. He was tall, good looking, and that voice…

You spent many a night dreaming of that voice. You’d kill to have him look your way once. Just once. But everyone knew that he and Melody had something going on, always sniffing after each other. So you only got to admire him from afar and at the few moments like these, spent at parties at his uncle’s house.

Your friends dragged you inside and you immediately searched the room for Franklin. You didn’t see him yet but..fuck, it seemed like half the block was inside Jerome’s house.

“Hey baby!” You turned to the sound of Louie’s voice and smiled wide. You hugged her and leaned back.

“You look good!” You told her. Louie was always who you wanted to be when you got older. She was so pretty and she always had her hair in interesting styles.

“I always look good!” She said and you laughed with her.

She moved on throughout the party. There was shouting in one corner and through the press of bodies, you saw Jerome shadow boxing with Leon. The size difference between them made you want to laugh. They were both handsome in their own ways, but you weren’t sure how Louie handled Jerome’s jheri curl.

You gave up your search for Franklin. He probably had a hundred people congratulating him on getting out or wanting more of his time. Or he had his tongue down Melody’s throat somewhere, if her dad let her out of the house.

You came here to celebrate him, yes, but also just to get out and be among your people. There was something cathartic about having like-minded people all in a good mood. Dancing, drinking, or smoking or just having a good time. No arguments, no petty dramas. Nothing but Black folk and good music.

The song switched and Cutie Pie came on. The party exploded in noise and people flocked to the living room, bumping hips and pulling each other into dancing. You shook your head of thoughts of Franklin and focused on having fun with your girls.

You danced and moved around the tight space, singing along to the words. You twirled the floor with your friends and got lost in the music. Heat erupted in the living room as everyone moved in tandem. You laughed as guys tried to show out for the women.

“Goofy ass niggas,” your friend cackled.

“You like them goofy ass niggas!” You said.

“And!” Your friend said and you laughed with her.

After a few songs, you were worn out. You waved your hand as your friends tried to keep you going. You had sweat pouring everywhere. If you didn’t sit down now, you were going to pass out. You fanned yourself as you collapsed on the couch. Your leg bumped someone’s.

“My bad,” you said.

“You look like you’re havin’ fun.” There. That voice.

You looked to your right and saw Franklin Saint smiling at you. Franklin. Smiling at you.

“Yeah, I am.” You swallowed hard and was thankful that the music was so loud that he couldn’t hear it. Damn. He looked amazing. Dressed in a simple purple T-shirt and dark jeans, he looked delicious enough to eat.

Franklin nodded and smirked. “You don’t though,” you said. You weren’t sure where that came from, but the more you looked at him, the more you realized it was true. He looked set apart from everyone else.

“I’m havin’ fun,” he said. He had to yell a bit to be heard over the music. His head dipped towards yours and you smiled. He smelled so good. You hadn’t been this close to him in forever. You soaked up every single detail. You felt silly, but this was already the greatest night ever.

“Been a minute since I seen you,” he said.

You shrugged. “Just been workin’,” you said. The more you spoke to him, the more the initial shock wore off. You were able to hold a conversation like a normal person. Slowly, Franklin seemed to relax into the conversation just like you. You didn’t talk about anything important, really. Just the latest books you’d read, the latest movies you’d gone to see, or how work was going.

“What?” You asked. You were in the middle of talking about work when you noticed that Franklin was just staring at you.

“You’re really beautiful,” he said softly, his words nearly drowned out by the loud music. You ducked your head and scratched absently at your cheek. Franklin took that hand in his and played with your fingers.

His large hands swallowed yours and you stared at your hands intertwined. His hand was warm and sent tingles up your arm. You looked at him to find him focused on your face. “Thank you, Franklin,” you said with a smile.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me like I’m normal. Since I got out,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “You are normal, Franklin,” you said. You made sure to look him in the eye so that he really believed you. He smirked and nodded. “You just need some rest, that’s all.”

“Or maybe I need to hang around you more often,” he said with a grin.

You sucked your teeth. “Stop playin’,” you said.

“I’m not playin’. I like talkin’ to you,” he said.

Your heart plopped to the floor. Warmth spread through your body and you curled your toes in your shoes. “I like talkin’ to you, too,” you said.

“You want a drink or somethin’?” He asked.

You shook your head and played with his hand. Your thumb ran over the space between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t mess with that stuff.”

“Me neither. Why don’t you?” Franklin’s attention was unnerving. It was hard looking him in the eyes sometimes. Almost as if he was peering into the depths of your soul and judging what he saw.

“The truth?”

“Always the truth,” he said.

“I got control issues sometimes. Drinkin’ or smokin’, I don’t like being that out of control.”

Franklin’s smile was slow but it spread from one side to the other. He laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You said and shoved his knee. He shook his head but continued to laugh.

“I’m not!”

“Then why you laughin’?” You watched him settle down and shake his head.

“Just somethin’ funny. You might like being out of control sometimes,” he said.

“I’on know about that,” you said. You knew it was an issue with you. But you couldn’t help it. Between your family and your job, you were constantly thrown in responsible roles before you were truly ready. It wasn’t like you had a choice to not rise to the challenge. You saw the way drinking and smoking made people crazy. You weren’t into it.

“Hey, wanna come with me?” He asked.

Before you could ask him what he meant, he smiled and stood up from the couch. The living room had cleared out a bit since you had been talking to Franklin. How long had you sat there? It was a little disorienting looking around. The crowd had pushed out onto the front lawn. There was more room to breathe and think.

He pulled you up by the hand he still held. He was really damn tall. You looked up into his mischievous eyes. His smile never left as he inclined his head and pulled you through the living room towards the hallway.

You suppressed a giggle as he pulled you into a room and closed the door. The music from the main room was still thumping, but it was significantly muffled by the closed door. Your ears rang as Franklin turned on a light. This time you giggled. You were standing in Franklin Saint’s room. The situation was a little absurd.

“It looks like you,” you said.

Your eyes roamed around the things he put on the wall and his cassette collection. You leaned down and looked through the tapes.

“What it look like? Tell me,” he said.

“Clean and studious. Lots of books,” you said and pointed to the books on his desk.

“What, a nigga can’t read?”

You laughed. “I didn’t say it was bad,” you said.

Franklin turned that assessing gaze on you as if he couldn’t figure you out. Like you were a mystery book and he hadn’t reached the final reveal yet. He stood leaning by the door so he walked slowly towards you. You stood your ground.

He brought his hand up and traced your lips with his thumb. He leaned down and kissed you. You committed every detail to memory. The way his lips slanted against yours. The heat was pouring off of his body. The way the purple shirt rustled against yours. His hand as it dropped to your shoulder and then to your waist to pull you closer.

You smiled when you broke apart and glanced at Franklin. “Damn. You sure no one’s gonna come barging in?”

“Door locked. Scared?” He asked with a smirk.

“No. I’m a lady,” you said and Franklin laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “I just want to make sure no one’s gonna walk in,” you said. You were too shy to say what you really meant. And you also needed time to think.

This was completely unreal. You were standing in Franklin’s room, kissing him. It was like someone peeked inside your head and offered you everything you dreamt of.

“Hey, it’s just us. I promise,” he said. “Trust me?”

This was Franklin. You’d known him all your life. You nodded and smiled. You did trust him. Damn everything, but you did.

Franklin kissed you again and you relaxed into it, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders and hugging him tight. His arms came around your waist and he started to walk you backwards towards the bed.

Once your legs hit it, he stopped and smirked down at you. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his chest. You’re pretty sure you drooled as you took him in. Your hands explored his body as he lifted your shirt out of your skirt and pulled it over your head.

You took off your bra as he unzipped his jeans. You kept your eyes on each other, smiling and giggling as you two quickly disrobed. His eyes perused your body and you never felt sexier.

“So beautiful,” he said.

You ducked your head but it only made you look at his swelling dick. You knew he was packing, skinny dudes usually were, but damn. How the hell did he walk with that between his legs? It was a miracle he wasn’t always drooping forward.

“Oh shit,” you said.

Franklin laughed and kissed you again, distracting you. You could become addicted to his kisses. They were at once soft and hard. Sweet but forceful. He kissed down to the side of your jaw and then onto your neck.

His big, juicy lips suckled on your neck as he lowered you to the bed and climbed on top. You moaned just from the feel of him slotting in between your legs. His dick pressed into the crook of your leg, warm and thick.

Franklin kissed up to your ear. “That pussy wet for me?”

You moaned and bit your lip. You wouldn’t survive a night with Franklin Saint. Not if he kept talkin’ nasty like that. You nodded.

“Let me hear that pretty voice then,” he said. He kissed back down from your neck to your chest. When he got to your nipples, he hummed in pleasure and suckled one of them into his mouth. You watched as he turned that intense gaze to your chest. Sucking on your nipples as if it was his only job in the world.

You moaned and squirmed beneath him. If you were wet before, you were soaking right now as his warm tongue teased your nipple into a needy little bud.

“Franklin,” you said with a gasp.

He let go of your nipple with a loud pop. He looked at you as he lowered his mouth towards your other nipple and gave that one as much attention. Keeping eye contact was hard when all you wanted to do was roll your eyes back. Your hands massaged his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“Focus,” he said. He kept going until your nipples were matching buds. He kissed down your belly stopping every so often to suckle a bit of skin in between his teeth.

You twitched every time he did that and you slapped at his shoulder. “Franklin!”

He chuckled as he continued to travel down, nosing your damp curls and inhaling. You bit your lip and wiggled. You were used to guys getting right down to having sex. It was rare that someone went down on you without you having to beg like a fool.

“Hm, lemme taste it,” he said, that slow drawl of his like its own symphony. He didn’t wait for permission. He latched those beautiful lips to your pussy and you moaned and melted into his bed. It smelled like him too. You moaned from smelling his clean scent and from the magic he weaved in between your thighs.

Your legs involuntarily closed around his head. He felt so damn good. He alternated between flicking your clit and suckling on it. Between licking you like his own popsicle and tracing little circles.

“Oh fuck,” you whined and rolled your hips. Franklin grabbed your thick thighs and pried them apart. You looked down at him with an apology on your lips but licked your pussy again and robbed you of all coherent thought.

“Need some room to work, woman,” he said. He kissed your pussy and then dived back in, fucking you with his tongue.

“Oh, oh, oh,” you said. He returned his attention to your clit and sucked hard. You came on his tongue, your body betraying you and twitching and jerking.

Franklin found your hands with his and held you as your orgasm ripped through you. You held on for dear life as your moans competed with the music outside. He continued to kiss and makeout with your pussy as you convulsed. As you came down, he rubbed the remainder of your juices on the back of your thighs.

He crawled up the bed and braced himself with his elbows. He was level with you as he kissed you. You faintly tasted yourself on his tongue. As he kissed, he moved his hips until his dick pressed against your entrance.

He started to push in and you moaned into his mouth. “Let me hear you,” he said.

He looked into your eyes as he pushed further in. The sweet burn of him stretching you out made you hiss. You drew your legs up and wrapped them around his lean frame. “Franklin!” You wrapped your arms around him as he started to stroke.

With each stroke, he pushed in deeper until he hit a spot deep inside of you. You fell apart under him. That stroke was a switch inside of you. You never felt someone go so deep or so hard before and you were clutching him to you, shaking and moaning as your orgasm fractured you into a million tiny shards.

Franklin watched you as you floated back down to your body, panting. The room was burning up. Or maybe that was you. You were both slick with sweat as Franklin smirked at you.

He continued his slow, deep strokes. Again, he hit that spot deep inside of you. “I can’t, I–”

Fuck, you had cum so many times already. But with every glide of his dick, your belly flipped and your pussy clenched him.

“Sure you can,” he said. He nodded and continued to move inside of you. He hiked your legs higher until your feet hit the top of his ass. It allowed him to truly move deeper inside of you.

Your arms wrapped under his so that your palms were directly on his back muscles, feeling them contract and expand as he slid in and out of you. It brought his chest down to rest on top of yours. He held his weight, but now your overly sensitive nipples rubbed his chest.

“Franklin, please,” you said. You weren’t exactly pushing him off. But these slow strokes were killing you. You could deal with jack rabbit niggas that just wanted to bust and get off of you. You could even deal with the niggas that thought they had a little game and you managed to get something out of it.

Franklin was completely different. He took his time. Your pleasure came first. This was the difference between fucking with ignorant muthafuckas and a grown man. Something must have shown on your face because he kissed you, bringing you back to the moment.

“Please, what?” He demanded.

“I can’t…” You still couldn’t form the words. His dick was slick with your juices. He slid in and out with ease. He eased all the way out and went even slower sliding back in.

The noises that left you should leave you embarrassed. But you felt nothing but safe in his arms. Safe to be yourself. Safe to give him every moan, every excited utterance, and every cry. Another orgasm was building in your belly.

“Can’t what?” He asked.

You looked into his eyes. That was a big mistake. You were trapped in the liquid pool of his eyes. His grin spread across his face. He was having fun while he was breaking you apart.

“Franklin,” you cried. You pushed at his shoulders but he was an immovable force. He pecked your lips and smiled at you.

“I just want one mo,” he said.

You shook your head back and forth. There was no way. Franklin kissed you and toyed with your lips while he continued his deep strokes. Never breaking eye contact.

You didn’t want him to stop but you also needed him to. He felt too good stretching you out and wringing any and all sounds you were capable of.

“I know you can do it,” he said and kissed you again.

“Fuck,” you whispered as your orgasm rolled over you like a bulldozer. You tensed up, cries and moans scratching the back of your throat, clutching him to you as if he were the only thing keeping you together. Your pussy contracted around him and triggered his own release.

“Goddamn,” he moaned as his cum spilled inside of you. You felt each hot spurt bathe your pussy.

Franklin held you as you calmed down. He rained kisses all over your face as he slipped out slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you. You caught your breath as you felt him leave you. You shivered and Franklin rolled onto his side and pulled you closer.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while,” he said.

“You have?” You asked and looked at him.

“Mhm,” he said. He pulled your leg over his and he rubbed your thigh. You caressed his cheek and he smiled at you.

“I wanna do that again,” you whispered to him. He chuckled and nodded. You didn’t have to pinch yourself. This may have been a dream come true, but it was a reality you weren’t ready to wake up from.

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onlyseokmins · 6 months

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$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: eventual smut (minors dni!), trigun!au action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, death, gore, guns, injuries, destruction, mentions of knives, weapons, violence, creepy monsters and creatures, ptsd, moral ambiguities, dark topics tbh, smoking, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, platonic (but not really) nakedness, reader is operating on a short fuse bc I believe u have to be built different for this universe, their communication is abt to be as poor as the plant life 💀 Seungcheol kinda his own warning imho, biggest apology to chan, and we all love seok sm bc he sings abt total slaughter 🙇🏻‍♀️ WC: 19.5k of 32.7k | Part 2 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I feel like the boys may seem ooc but I had a lot of fun putting this together 😌 Thank you Summer and Isa for hosting this collab and your utmost patience in me finally writing my piece! I hope everyone enjoys this and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!!

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin.

The cities' great militaries. Bounty hunters. Bandits on the roads. Criminals escaping death row. Prowling pirate gangs. His twin brother. You.

Though you reckoned your "want" for him was a bit… different from others. Well, at least you hope so, goddamn it.

You shiver.

At first, you wanted him just like the mass majority would one day as well — dead. The deed swiftly carried out with a silver pistol aimed at his temple.

Besides, your blood-thirst began before the destruction of July. Unlike most, who angrily shake their fists at the gaping crater on the fifth moon in the spirit of pure vengeance. Yes, the tragic incident of the great city that upped the bounty dangling over his head like a noose to a sixty billion double dollars reward. But Little Ivywood was the first of many places that would end up reduced to ruins after Lee Seokmin set foot there.

Wiped off the map. Wiped from history. Wiped from existence. But never forgotten. Especially not by the small town's only known survivor — you.

Your earliest memories contain little about the events that led up to being left on the doorstep of Little Ivywood's unofficial orphanage. How could they when you were just a baby? One swaddled in a ratty cloth weighted down by a rusted pistol. There was just one simple hint to your past — scribbled nearly illegible on a torn piece of paper dotted with blood — and could only be what the nuns had to assume was your name.

At least that's how Sister Meryl relayed the tale whenever asked, her hands clasped tightly together in praise and gratitude to the Saint that delivered you to them unharmed. The irony, considering Sister Lucia always looks like she'll faint just like the day she opened the convent's side door. It wasn't an easy sight to see or recall, the image of a wailing infant mouthing on the empty muzzle of a gun.

Neither versions of your origin story could be that far off thanks to the scar marring your left hand and the gun held tightly in your right. You've had both for as long as you can remember. And as you grew and changed, so did they.

The scar shrunk and faded through the years, seemingly forgotten amongst a myriad of other markings littered across your skin. Over time, the pistol's rusted parts were repaired or replaced and soon, its shine and character returned. Restored to its former glory while forging a new beginning ahead with a different owner.

But there were two things that stayed constant throughout your years at the orphanage. The first was your birth name. Not even the nuns, who generally loved bestowing scriptural monikers as if they were granting rich titles to unnamed orphans, tried to change yours. The second was a person who you still refuse to call by his baptismal name — Chan.

He helped you, became an assistant of sorts. Originally just some snot-nosed, beanpole of a fellow orphan you didn't really pay much attention to. A scared kid who cried way too loudly even after you'd even taken the time to demonstrate that the gun was safe after he'd been the one continuously pestering to see it. Very much to Sister Constance's chagrin, since it all went down in the middle of confessional time.

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

Lucky, because by acquiring bravery, Chan could discover his innate talent for gunsmithing. Lanky, noodle arms transformed into well-formed, sinewy muscles. The soft baby skin of his hands roughened with callouses as he whittled away near the convent's underground furnace. He'd spend hours down there, returning with sweat, grime, and charcoal smudged all over his skin after melting together the random metal objects found by digging beneath the basement's unfinished floor.

The Sisters disliked dirt and grime all over the children and tracked through the doors. But it was hard to keep clean out in the middle of a sandy desert. Complaints dwindled thanks to the fellow orphans who would stop their mischief to watch Chan work. And as time passed, his shoulders broadened further, his voice began to deepen, his dark hair grew longer, and those brown eyes started to sparkle with something different from simple, fleeting passion — it was a dream.

The excitable boy would tell you all about it under the stars. Late into the nights when you searched for what had to be remnants of Earthen materials from the Big Fall, he'd chatter on and on.

"Once we're actual adults," — free from the guardianship requirement provided from the orphanage — "we're gonna leave Lil Ivywood behind and explore the great wastelands of Gunsmoke!"

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

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