#and why no one is interested in holding a conversation with me for more than 5 minutes in total

[seaouidbabyx]

SUCKER || Dealer! Chris x Maneater! Reader

chapter three.

notes: sorry guys, I got carried away. I might split this into two parts. Also, sorry for not updating regularly, ive been swamped at work :(

warnings: swearing, smoking weed, mentions of drugs (no use, just dealing),

Jayden was... nice. I was currently sitting across from the boy with neatly styled hair, a pressed, clean shirt, and a suave smile. He had the balls to come up to me while I was out at the cafe near my apartment, he told me I was gorgeous, and that he would love to show me a restaurant for dinner if I liked this place. He was too nice, and the more that the conversation went between us, the more I felt like I was sitting in a lecture. A lecture purely on him. He spoke about all the houses his family owned, how he graduated with honors in Finance and Law. I don't think I've gotten a single word out this whole date besides the greeting when we first walked in.

The restaurant was great; it was a neat little Italian place a few blocks away from where I lived. He also offered to pick me up, but I politely declined. Sure, why don't I just let you see where I live, random man I've never actually had more than a single convo with? I sat with my little red dress, the long sleeves covering my arms as they crossed each other. My hair was in a classy, mid-bun with curls falling out, and my fingertips were tapping against the stem of my wine glass. My knee-high boots tapped against my folded leg as my foot played along to the song in the background. I don't think I've heard this man say anything even remotely interesting. My thoughts wondered to a certain brunette boy who would've given anything to see me smile.

I nodded with a tight lipped, polite smile as Jayden had started another story about how his grandfather took him for polo lessons as a kid. I looked around the resturant, looking at the people who were having actual engaging conversations. There were red and white plaid table clothes on some of the wooden tables, some wicker basket chairs after some of the booths. I actually really like this place, but god was Jayden making it feel like it was claustrophobic. His big head was taking up about half the room with his ego. "It was rather lovely, the fields were always green when we went in summer-" I zoned him out, when my phone lit up next to me. It was an unknown number, so curiously, I picked it up and opened it.

"you're enjoying your date over there, princess?" My heart raced, I instantly started looking around. How the fuck, did this drug dealer fiend get into a place like this. Then it dawned on me, what if it's some random? I looked around, trying to spot a certain brunette triplet, even going as far to lean out of my seat a little bit, but I couldn't see anyone. I was about to text back and ask who this was, when no other than Chris walked up to our table, one hand in his pocket and one hand holding a takeaway bag. His loose curls were free of the backwards cap, but he looked good. He swaggered up and had a smug smile on his face, looking like he just spawned out of nowhere. I sent him a sharp, what the fuck glare, which he just winked at. I was almost, almost about to get angry, but I knew that deep down I was breathing a huge sigh of relief. He stuck out like a sore thumb; his casual attire really did not match the vibe of this place. He casually just dragged a chair from the table next to us, placed it next to me and spread himself leisurely across it.

I think this was the first time that Jayden had actually just stopped talking. I looked at Chris, Jayden looked at Chris, and Chris just lazily smiled back up at me. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked, looking at him expectantly. Jayden looked pissed, "Yeah man, what the fuck? Who are you?" I rolled my eyes at that answer, my god. I know this wasn't convenient for him, but no need to be a dick about it. I sent a sharp gaze over in Jayden's direction, not impressed, but he didn't seem to care as his focus was all on the boy sitting next to me.

Chris leaned over, picking up a piece of bread from the basket in between us and started peeling off pieces and shoving them in his mouth. "'M here to save her from this god-awful date." Chris muffled through a mouth full of bread, and I was so shocked at his answer that I actually let out a laugh. I put my hand in front of my mouth embarrassingly so, which Chris just cheekily smiled at. Jayden then looked at me, back at Chris, then zoned in on me once again. "Did you set me up?" He seethed, his face turning flush with anger and I looked at him with an 'excuse me?' look. "You're just a fucking stuck up bitch, why couldn't you just tell me you weren't interested?" He shouted, slamming his hands on the table, acting like a toddler. I placed my hand on the table, leaning in to not cause any more of a scene then he was. "Look, I had no idea this man was even here, but you've done absolutely nothing but speak about yourself, I mean do you even know a single thing about me? If he can see that this is a terrible date, then I have nothing more I really need to say, now do I?" I smiled sweetly at him, reaching for my purse and throwing a 50 on the table, standing up and pushing the chair back with an awful screech.

"Here's for my wine, and next time you think about taking a girl on a date, give her a chance to fucking speak." I spat, grabbing my purse and tapping Chris on the back before making my way over to the entrance of the restaurant. Chris grabbed two more pieces of bread out the basket, before saluting Jayden and followed close behind me. He walked out next to me, "Hey! Slow down woman! Are you okay?" He asked, following in my footsteps.

As soon as we were a few walking steps down the sidewalk, I stopped, turned to him and let out a belly laugh. God, I can't believe this is happening to me. I placed my hands on my hips, breathing in big deep breaths in between laughs. I heard Chris nervously laugh along too, probably looking at me like I was crazy. I wiped the tears from my eyes, "Did you see the look on his face! God, what a stuck up, asshat. How did you know I was there?" I shouted and questioned, placing a hand on his shoulder, softening my giggles. He shrugged at me, "Oh you know, I just saw this pretty girl who looked bored out of her mind when I came to get see what they have for takeout. Thought she needed saving." He smirked down playfully at me.

Chris stood next to me with a big smile on his face, still shoving peeled off pieces of bread, I smiled up at him. "Oh, so that's why you're out. Totally not stalking me or anything." I teased, falling back into step with him. He rolled his eyes, passing his extra bread roll over to me without even looking at me. I gently took it, peeling pieces off as he did and started nibling. "Where's your car?" He asked, seeing as were almost about a block and a half away from the restaurant. I shrugged, "I took an uber, but its not far from my place, I don't mind walking." I ripped another piece, placing the soft bread in my mouth. He stopped, dead in his tracks and looked at me with a wild and absurd expression. He then rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before grabbing my forearm. "Not a fuck am I letting you walk. I mean, have you seen the type of dudes out here? You were just on a date with one!" He lectured, pulling me across the street and a little further down. I rolled my eyes, "I can handle myself, thank you very much. It looks like youre fucking kidnapping me right now!" We continued walking and I really was not complaining, before Chris stopped in front of a BMW 5 Series. I looked up at him and back at the car, and he huffed, rolling his eyes once again. He opened the door for me, holding my hand as he helped me into the car.

"Wow, a thug and a gentleman, who would've guessed?" I teased, sarcastic, as he made his way into the driver's side. He rolled his eyes as he got him, pushing the 'push-to-start' button, and putting the car into drive. "How do I know you're not one of those weirdo's out here to kidnap me?" I sassed, turning to look at him. He looked at me with a blank, 'really?' look. "Listen, I've got shit to loose, if anything, I'm scared you're going to kidnap me." He chirped back, shaking his head and looking forward, pulling out of the parking space and creeping up the street.

"Kidnap you! You're lucky I don't have my hands around your neck. I'm flattered you're scared of me, that's what I was aiming for." I said, crossing my arms, looking outside. He smirked, a ghost of a smile behind it, shaking his head at my reaction once again. "Alright, you prissy princess, where are we going?" I looked at him, with a skew look. "Um, my house?" I argued. He stopped at a red light, "C'mon, you got all dressed up and pretty and had a shitty date. How about this, I've got some to do some runs, but after that, I can show you what it's like to go on a real date." He rambled, talking animatedly with his hands as he drove. The way he acted, really didn't show that he was a drug dealer.

"Are you fucking joking? You want me to come on runs with you? I am not some thug accomplice Chris!" I said, turning my body to face him fully. He rolled his eyes at me, "I'm not hearing a no?" He huffed, smirking slightly at my reaction. I crossed my arms, looking out the window. "I did dress up really nice," I murmured, softly. I heard Chris let out a laugh, tapping my thigh gently with his big hand. "Atta girl, lets go have some fun." I smacked away his hand once again, missing it already. I heard him whisper to himself, "God, you're so dramatic." I gasped and pushed his shoulder. He put his hands up in surrender, "What? It's true!"

We eventually started driving through some random neighbour hoods, some with large, high houses, others with simple flats. He was nice enough to let me play some music, so I started shuffling through and decided to settle on some Pouya songs, which I could see he appreciated. Conversation flowed between us, naturally, and the more I got to know Chris, the more I started to realise that he was different. A good different, one that made me want to learn more about him. We had just talked about the basic things, where we grew up, our favourite shows, but he gave me chances to speak about myself, like he was actually interested. The last house we pulled up too, was a small, single-story flat. Its fence was not up to par and the streetlights were not all working, but the garden was neatly kept and the patio didn't look half bad. It had peeling green paint on the outside, and the rusted golden number showed '7'. Chris pulled out his phone, silently parking outside the house, phoning someone.

A man, in a black hoodie and some sweats, quickly opened the door to his house and made his way to Chris's window, with a huge smile on his face. He leaned down; Chris rolled the window so he could meet him. "What's up Chris? Thanks for coming dawg." He spoke, and as he leaned down, I locked eye contact with him. He had some face-tattoos, his hair in dreads. He smiled at me, gold grills on some of his teeth. I smiled politely, before looking at Chris, not knowing what the fuck to do in this situation. "Huh, Chris has got a girl with him, I ain't never seen that before. And she's hot as fuck. This your girlfriend Chris?" He teased, placing a thick wad of cash into Chris's hand. He kept looking between me and Chris, but continued to speak like I wasn't even there? What the fuck is going on? I was gobsmacked, most of the people just came and took their shit, this man doesn't seem to care.

Chris reached over to me, pulling open the cubbyhole, and pulling out a couple baggies, some had green leaves, and one had white powder. One bag even had some small, multi-coloured capsules. I blushed when I felt his arm press against my legs. "Something like that," He replied, clearly not interested in conversation with this man. He closed the cubbyhole, handed him his stash and sent a wink flying my way. I looked at him confused, but my heart beat increased, and I felt my face flush. We bid this man goodbye, Chris rolled up his window and drove off down the street.

He looked at me, clearly irked. "Sorry about him, he just doesn't know when to shut up." I shook my head, "It's no problem, I just didn't know what the fuck was even going on." I chuckled softly. He smiled in return, "Alright, that was my last run, no more scary people." He cheesed, looking at me with lazy eyes. "You hungry, Princess?" I smiled, a small one, trying to refuse how hot he looked. I nodded, "What do you feel like getting? Anything you want," He said, leaning back leisurely in his chair, his gaze flicking to me and the road.

I thought about it, looking at him with a teasing look. "If I'm being totally honest with you, I'm really craving some greasy fast food." I said, a little unsure. He smirked back at me, "Some chicken nuggets, for the finest lady?" Teasing, patting a hand on my thigh once again. "You have to choose where we go, though." I stated, cheekily smiling at the brunette. He nodded, pursed his lips. "I got it," he said, driving away from the suburbs.

He had pulled us into a Burger King, and my eyes lit up. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it excitedly, "Yes! This is my favourite! We have to get matching crowns too Chris." I said and turned to look at him. He had a grin on his face, parking the car. "Let's go get those crowns." He came to my side of the car, opened the door for me like the gentleman he was. I smirked, "Aren't you scared it's going to ruin your whole criminal look you've got going on?" I said, placing my hand in his and getting out of the car. He tutted, "I can still look swag as fuck." He gloated, pulling out a flex of his muscles, which made me fake gag in return. I followed him into the restaurant, walking besides him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, smirking down at me. "You know, I was not expecting to come to Burger King for our first date."

I shoved him off, placing a hand on my hip as we walked inside, "Who said anything about this being a date." I quipped, returning his smirk. He placed a hand on the base of my spine and walked us to the counter. He ordered for us but leaned down to me again. "We both know it's a date, sweetheart. Get off your high-horse and just enjoy it." He snipped, making me want to swipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"Fuck sakes," I mumbled, feeling a heat run through my chest. I blushed, looking away as he continued with the cashier. Chris grabbed the takeout, before asking the cashier for two of the paper king crowns, grabbing them and stopping me before we made it to the door. He placed the food on a table nearby, grabbing my waist and making me stand straight in front of him. He maneuvered the paper crown, folding it together, before he gently grabbed the underside of my jaw, and placed the crown on top of my head. I smiled up at him, scrunching my nose, as he gently took my hair behind my ear for the crown to sit properly.

He placed his own crown on his head, looking down at me with that, upside down smile, the one that looks like he's trying not to smile, but he just can't help it. He placed a hand on the base of my spine again, grabbing the food and walking us back out the car. He opened the door for me again, helping me into the car, placing the takeout bag on my lap, before heading to the driver's side. I handed him his burger and fries, taking out my own, and placing the chicken nuggets in between both of us on the centre console, so we could share. He sent me a charming smile, taking one of the nuggets and placing it in his mouth. "You know what would make this even better?" He spoke with a mouth-full of food, which I grimaced at before looking at him curiously. He reached into the side of his door, pulling out a freshly rolled joint. I cheered, "Okay, maybe this is like my dream date or something." I mumbled, quickly shoving some fries in my mouth. He looked over at me, placing the joint between his lips. He moved to fix the crown that had gone slightly askew on my head with a gentle touch. "Princess, this is the bare minimum. I thought you out of all people would know that." I shrugged, "I don't need expensive things to like you." I uttered out. He looked a little shocked, but smirked, nonetheless. He lit the joint, taking a drag.

Once he had puffed it a few times, he gave it over to me. We were both facing each other, the night lights and the interior Led's giving us a soft glow. I looked at him, big, aspiring eyes, before taking the joint from his hand. I took a few drags, blowing out away from his face, before handing it back. There wasn't much said, just two people enjoying each other's company. The lowered music in the background, my heart thundering in my chest. I looked at him again, but Chris's blue eyes were already on mine. I moved to hand him back the joint, but he grabs my wrist, pulls my hand over his shoulder and closer towards him, his left hand slithering towards my waist. We were inches away, so close I could smell the weed off his breath. He placed a soft hand on my neck with his right hand, his thumb just below my jaw, looking at me with hooded eyes. "Such a pretty girl," he said, almost a purr. I looked up at him once again, through my eyelashes. I could not show that he was making me blush, but I'm sure he could feel the heat from my neck. "You gonna do something about it?" I teased, to which smirked at, rolled his eyes, before speaking almost against my lips, "Do you want me to?" His eyes were now fully lowered to my mouth. I started to grow frustrated at this game, so I pulled my head to the side, "Don't waste my time, Chris." I said, more meaning than what I had intended.

Frustrated too, Chris's other hand reached up, pulling my face into his again. "Stop being so fucking dramatic," He whispered, eyes fire-y. And with that, he pulled me in for a kiss. It was full of emotions; his lips were softer than I expected to be. I gasped into the kiss, gripping his sweatshirt like my life depended on it. He asked for entry with his tongue, to which I allowed. We kissed each other, ferociously, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. The weed, him, the kiss, his hands, it was all making me dizzy. So dizzy in fact, that I had dropped the joint somewhere between. He pulled away first, but almost chased my mouth for another kiss, making me smile. "Mm, I think you could use a little more kissing lessons," I grabbed his chin, teasing him, looking at his soft, pink lips, now swollen slightly. Fully joking, knowing this was one of the best kisses I've had to date. His hooded eyes followed mine, before lazily smiling back up at me. "Only if you're gonna teach them." He muttered, placing a hand on my thigh. I let out a small laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

Who is the sucker now?

A/N: YAAAYYYY THEY FINALLY KISSED WHOOOO

tags -> @chrispycremedonut @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @iluvchr1s @passionfruitchris

[coffeegnomee]

I am nothing but predictable, so. Any thoughts on the devious finale interactions? Cause. What was any of that. They both just didn't want to fight each other at all and I find it sooo interesting.

dude yes. every time zam died spoke just stopped fighting. and mapicc just cautiously sweating, waiting for the final blow but it never happened.

in my spoke-pilled mind, the whole finale was spoke giving zam a good ending, right? Like no holds barred, that was the truth when he said that. And spoke knows analysis better than anyone.

SPOKE: “do you think like, the vision of you completing your goal is it like a vision where people acknowledge you as that player?” ZAM:” i think so yea” SPOKE:” like you have the social proof”

Spoke asks if anyone has acknowledged that, and Zam just says Derap might've but not anymore. But bro. Woogie, Mane, Flame, Pagni, Derap too, and 4c and probably someone else im forgetting have ALL said that zam is the soul of lifesteal or something thereupon.

But you know the one damn person who refuses to say that, that matters more than anyone else, who made zam sad when he wasn't cheering for the flame void kill?

Mapicc.

Spoke isn't dumb. He's got better analysis of his friends than anyone else.

And zam compared giving hearts to bacon as a betrayal in the same way giving a blessing to minute counted as a betrayal. Both times mapicc was the one hurt.

So when he's fighting the finale Spoke keeps Mapicc alive.

And now we get back to devious in truth, Spoke was listening to the entire conversation from Mapicc's side! Stalking him invis, eating the gapple on woogie's tower.

Spoke heard Mapicc lament about his team, heard his pain at feeling like a pawn sent out to get zam back, how he felt like the server was already over bc of the one tapping, he heard him say "i thought it was going to be us two obviously doing our classic fighting adventures and then spoke would being in the middle going against both sides”.

So he gave him that reality.

and, perhaps most importantly, he heard that Mapicc didn't want to risk his only mace in a 1v1 with zam. He knew Mapicc only had one mace.

And what gets me crazy is Spoke instantly knew how bad it was when he killed Mapicc. And from Mapicc's pov, he just sits, dumbfounded on the respawn screen. You can hear the gears in his head processing he just lost his mace. You can feel him about to hover over the "title screen" button and give up right then and there.

And he only respawns when Zam messages him "i have your mace".

Spoke orchestrates at all times. And keeping Mapicc alive was important for the goal he wanted. Which is to give both his friends a good ending.

Spoke is a master at maintaining hope vs despair. And killing Mapicc there turned him closer to despair than hope. he knew it was bad.

And Mapicc for his part has been consistent in not wanting to fight Spoke. The reason he wanted to be the third party chaos faction with hannah was precisely because he didn't want to fight Minute and he didn't want to fight Spoke. He didn't have the heart to go after his two teammates, didn't want to choose sides.

But he also knows when a battle is impossible: and anything less than a 2v1 was not going to keep Spoke distracted enough for Mapicc to get a hit in without dying.

And ugh, remember s4 right before the eclipse breakup after the prison was made? Planet and Bacon interview Mapicc about why he's sticking with Spoke when Spoke is clearly behind all of this. And Mapicc basically just says where else would I go, Spoke provides protection, I'm safe from Spoke if I'm on his good side.

And to Zam in this finale, he asks who's the bigger threat, him or Spoke. And crashes out on Zam when he says Mapicc bc obviously Spoke is the bigger threat bc he can one tap people.

Mapicc doesn't often feel scared about dying. He's competent and capable enough that no standard pvp fight scares him, not Flame or Mane or Clown. "i'll just survive" he says over and over. He's completely confident in his ability to get out and live, and if he dies, well, he did his best.

The only thing that scares Mapicc is power beyond pvp. And normally Spoke is not a danger, normally Spoke is a great teammate, good at surviving, but when he gets like this, Mapicc starts walking on eggshells, trying to swallow his fear. How many times did Mapicc message Zam sure that Spoke was going to kill him.

Anything to not provoke the sleeping beast. He could fight Spoke with Zam, but not alone. So he goes along with whatever Spoke is talking about every time Zam dies, keeping a distance, waiting and hoping that Zam will return soon. And he finds out Spoke doesn't want to kill him bc their past team. Which gives him the confidence to go in for a kill a little later when Zam got back. And that got him killed.

The devious dynamic shifts so much when Spoke goes into exploit mode. You can just feel the dread coming off Mapicc. He doesn't want to fight his friend but he's equally upset he has to because Spoke doesn't give him any other option.

And so at every other time he denies that Spoke is doing anything at all. He believes nothing. Because to believe that Spoke is doing something devious is to loose his friend again. Bc Spoke goes where he can't follow. Not anymore.

[seaofreverie]

First day back at the university and I still suck at this exactly as much as I did 4 years ago

[luvth0t]

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks. 

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[centaurianthropology]

Murderbot as a ‘Cringe’ Litmus Test for the Audience (a.k.a., we are culturally the Corporation Rim)

One of the more interesting things I’ve seen in discussions of ‘Murderbot’ are how many people are not happy that the show made the Preservation team more explicitly hippies.  After all, per our current cultural zeitgeist, hippies are silly, over-earnest, over-feeling, over-EVERYTHING. Why is this team of scientists holding hands and humming?  Why are they taking breaks in the middle of a tense situation to reassure a colleague that they love him? Why do they stand around playing music and dancing during their downtime?  Why did the show make them “Cringe”?

And that got me thinking again about the current cultural antipathy toward sincerity and openness.  People who are seen as open and sincere beyond a fairly narrow scope of emotional expression are treated as deeply weird, off-putting, and most importantly for this conversation, as INCOMPETENT.  You can’t be goofy and competent.  You can’t believe in the power of love and friendship and holding hands and taking a dance break, and still be a good scientist.  You can’t have one of the unsexy sorts of mental health problems (panic disorder) and be a good leader.  In our current cultural moment, you have to be Cool.  You have to be unaffected by both the horrors of the world and the day-to-day joys. 

I think that a lot of people see themselves in ‘The Murderbot Diaries’, and a lot of them understandably love the very anticapitalist tone of the books.  And they wanted Preservation to be Cool Space Communists.  Hypercompetent at all times, serious, without flaw.  Because any personal flaws might be taken as flaws in their cultural and political leanings, right?  And we can’t have silliness or goofiness or fun in our Communist Utopia, or people won’t take us seriously.

But to me, the tension is so much better, so much more real and human and FUN. And it makes the audience question their own implicit biases as much as SecUnit is going to have to contemplate its implicit biases.  This team is comprised of highly talented scientists from a culture that values emotions and, yes, activities that we the audience have been culturally trained to think are Cringe.  They do have a humming consensus circle—so that anyone in the team can have veto power over a decision that has major ramifications not only for a research project, but for their own ethics.  They do like to play music and dance when they’ve got some free time, even if that music would be considered embarrassing or offputting to outsiders.  They do openly love one another and support one another, even in—no, especially in—challenging times.  It’s good to have that tension, both to tell the story and to give the characters and the AUDIENCE an emotional and thematic arc.

Let’s use Dr. Mensah as a the best example so far of this tension. Mensah is a good leader.  In every scene where she’s with the group, she’s the heart of it.  She’s always weighing the fears, the thoughts, the feelings, and the arguments of her friends to come to a decision.  She doesn’t feel like Gurathin’s right about not trusting SecUnit, but she’s also very aware that he knows more about the Corporation Rim than she does, and that his arguments, while rooted in his fears, are rational.  So she ends up deciding that they’ll leave the SecUnit behind for their mission. 

And it’s the wrong call. Going out to the dark site in the map without the SecUnit almost gets her killed. But her decision to climb the scree pile alone makes sense, because she doesn’t want to further endanger Bharadwaj, and if she doesn’t climb up there with her equipment, they won’t get important information about what’s going on with their survey data. And yes, while she’s climbing she has another panic attack. But she keeps climbing through it. Hell, she even takes a moment to encourage the teamwork between SecUnit and Gurathin, because that’s an important part of being their leader.  And, yes, they both roll their eyes because they still don’t like one another. But the important thing is that she’s created this sense of openness, of acceptance, of love.

Being a good leader doesn’t mean making the right call all the time.  It means learning from both right calls and wrong calls.  It means creating an environment where people can be wrong, and learn from their mistakes, and try again to get it right.  And it works!  Gurathin may roll his eyes, but he also has the space to apologize for getting it wrong. He has the space to fuck up and try again. And that is created by her encouragement, by her openness, by her caring even when it becomes embarrassing to a man raised in our culture the Corporation Rim, where open emotion is something to smirk at.

And when she’s alone, Mensah falls apart.  When no one can see her, she has panic attacks, because things are starting to go pear-shaped for these people she loves.  Because one of her dear friends nearly died, and she wasn’t there, and apparently that could happen at any time because their maps are faulty, and the only real rescue is an untrustworthy bond company that is a week away at best.  That’s a perfect recipe for a panic attack, but she hides them because she knows what she needs to be for her friends and colleagues.  She is the leader, and damned if she’s going to let something like her panic disorder stop her from doing that.

That’s not incompetent, that’s incredibly courageous.  Her bravery lies in being afraid and pushing through, not being flawless from the off.  The bravery and the competence and the things that eventually are going to win Murderbot over to loving these humans ARE their flaws and the fact that they don’t let those flaws stop them from trying to be the best people they can be, while also being true to a culture of being open and loving to the point that they can come across, to the jaded construct or audience member, as Cringe.

I think we’re going to see more and more of that as the show unfolds.  We’ve only just laid the groundwork, and established the initial impressions of all the characters.  They are being set up for arcs, and by electing to let the Preservation team be more out-there, more earnest, more Cringe, they’re setting the audience up for an arc too.

Anyway, loving the show, can’t wait for the DeltFall storyline to kick off tonight.  And I love this crew being highly-competent space hippies with realistic human flaws, who love and support one another.  In an unrelentingly Cool, Bleak, and Edgy television landscape, it really is nice to have kind characters be free to be their kooky selves without the show judging them for it.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 

“He was nice,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?” 

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 

“You’ll be alright?” 

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 

“Darling.” 

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 

Me, you think. 

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 

“You didn’t,” the woman says. 

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?” 

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 

“Gentleman and the tramp.” 

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 

What the fuck? 

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 

Your head races with hurt feelings. 

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched? 

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 

She was unbelievable. 

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.” 

“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 

“Scavenging for food.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 

“I love you, too,” you say. 

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.” 

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 

“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 

He’d know. They’re not. 

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“But something does hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 

He looks sick. 

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s so stupid.” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 

“Aaron.” 

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 

“Aaron!” you laugh. 

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 

”You said it.” 

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 

“I’m glad you asked me.” 

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 

“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.” 

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 

“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 

“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

[nephynes]

You were just Heeseung’s girlfriend’s cousin—quiet, polite, a little too naive for your own good. Then you met his friends. Now you’re in the middle of a spiraling mess of jealousy, bad decisions, emotional whiplash and two boys who treat boundaries like suggestions. Oops.

➺ minors do not interact

➺ pairing: park sunghoon x afab reader x jake sim

➺ wc: 33k (i’m so sorry)

➺ content tags: SMUT, toxic friendships, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, angst, character conflict, questionable decision-making, emotional tension, verbal degradation, crying, physical altercation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complex feelings, power imbalance, mentions of blood, depictions of anxious behavior, manipulative dynamics, sunghoon speaks in italics, jake has issues, messy people being messy, mentions of enhypen’s heeseung and lesserafim’s yunjin. not proofread.

➺ a/n: this got a little out of hand. everyone in this is insane and needs therapy (except maybe yunjin). please remember this is fiction and not a guide to healthy relationships. enjoy the chaos.

➺ part two here

➺ nsfw tags under the cut

praise kink, degradation kink, oral sex, jealousy kink, crying during sex, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, aftercare, slutty behavior, dirty talk, intense emotional sex, soft dom undertones, toxic tenderness (let me know if i missed any)

══════════════════════════

You don't know why you're still here, the music's too loud, the laughter too sharp and the room too small for how much it feels like it's pressing against you, closing you in. You're not even sure how you ended up here, or why you let Yunjin drag you out when you knew damn well it was going to be one of those nights. She's busy talking to someone else now, lost in the chaos, and you're left to wander, like always.

You clutch your cup tighter, not because you want more to drink but because it's the only thing grounding you. It's plastic, cheap, and it's all that's standing between you and the clamor of this stupid, stupid party. The people around you are so loud, so unapologetically themselves. Everyone's happy, laughing, drinking, talking with their friends, and you? You're just another face in the crowd, a blur, standing on the edge of it all.

There's a group of girls dancing by the window, the kind of girls who laugh too loud, talk too much, their bright colors making it clear they've got more attention than you ever will. You want to look away, but your eyes keep dragging back, following them as if your brain can't help but analyze the way their bodies move, the way they shine so effortlessly. And then, you wonder how they'd look if you were in the center of their circle, taking the place of one of them, laughing, dancing, without a care in the world. You can almost see it, but the picture feels blurry, like it's just out of reach.

Somewhere across the room, you spot a couple making out by the fridge, their hands wandering, the slapping sound of wet lips and muffled giggles piercing through the noise. The guy's hands wander lower, and she pulls him in closer, her body shifting beneath him. It's normal, you think, but the weird feeling in your stomach twists deeper. You've always felt like an outsider in these situations. These people, they know what they're doing, know how to have fun, know how to look and act in the moment. You never really fit in like that.

You glance around again. There's a guy on the couch talking too loudly, probably trying to impress someone with some half-baked story, and another girl, looking over at him like she's interested but not enough to give him her full attention. You catch bits of conversations, fragments, half-formed words and laughing sentences that don't make sense to you. People throwing their heads back and laughing like it's the easiest thing in the world. And you're standing there, holding your cup like it's a shield, too afraid to walk into any of it, too scared to be a part of it.

You sigh, letting your gaze wander to the corner by the stairs, where a few of the guys are hanging out. They're laughing, but their laughter sounds different from the others. Louder, sharper. There was something about observing everyone else that made you feel detached, almost like an outsider. Heeseung, of course, was the life of the party, laughing loudly with friends, always the center of attention. His presence demanded it, naturally. And then there was Sunghoon, looking as composed as ever, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the room with his usual detached gaze.

But what caught your attention most in that moment was Jake. The chaos of the party seemed to swirl around him like he was at the eye of the storm. You caught a glimpse of him near the drinks table, his usual smirk on his face as he chatted with a girl who was all doe-eyed and giggling, the kind of girl who looked like she'd fall for anything he said. He didn't seem bothered by the attention, though.

In fact, he seemed...pleased.

You watched, your heart picking up pace, as he gently guided the girl toward Sunghoon. Jake's hand rested at the small of her back, his smile playful and effortlessly charming as he introduced the girl to Sunghoon. The moment wasn't anything special on the surface, but the way Jake's hand lingered, the way Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable... it sent an unexpected ripple of discomfort through you.

It wasn't just the way Jake stood so confidently, so familiar with the girl, but the way Sunghoon's lips curved upwards—slightly, ever so slightly—into something that resembled a smile. It was the first time you'd seen him genuinely show any hint of warmth toward someone in this room, especially a stranger.

Sunghoon took the girl's hand delicately, raising it to his lips in a soft, almost theatrical gesture, kissing her knuckles with a quiet grace that didn't match the chaos of the party. His gaze flickered briefly to the girl, and then back to Jake. You couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but the scene itself was enough to make your stomach tighten, an odd mix of curiosity and something heavier—something that felt like jealousy, though you quickly pushed that feeling aside.

The girl blushed, her smile sweet as she laughed at something Sunghoon said. You couldn't help but notice how easy it was for her to slip into this world, how effortlessly she fit into the social dynamic that you were still trying to make sense of.

And then your eyes caught Sunghoon's gaze—just for a moment. His eyes met yours across the room, cold and distant, before he blinked and shifted his attention back to the girl in front of him. But it wasn't the usual indifference you were used to; there was something there, something flickering beneath his cool exterior that made your heart skip a beat. But then it was gone, and he was back to his composed self, nodding politely at whatever the girl was saying.

You shook your head, blinking away the strange feeling of being left behind. You had no reason to be affected by any of this, right? You were just... observing. That was all..

You shift your weight, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little too fast. You wonder what he's thinking, or if he's thinking anything at all. He never really pays attention to you. At least, that's how it feels. Sunghoon's the kind of person who sees everything but says nothing. He can be in a room full of people and somehow make you feel like you're invisible. Like it doesn't matter if you're there, or not. But you know better. Deep down, you know he notices. He has to. Why else would you feel like your pulse quickens every time he's near?

You turn your eyes away from the corner and try to focus on something, anything else, but your mind keeps drifting back to them. To him. To the way the whole room feels different when he's around. You wonder if they all see it — the way he stands apart from everyone else, like he's above it all. And you wonder if they notice that you're always the one looking at him, the one too afraid to be noticed, but always noticing him. Your breath hitches slightly as you feel the weight of your own thoughts.

There's a sudden burst of laughter nearby, and someone bumps into you, startling you out of your thoughts. You almost spill your drink, but you catch it just in time. Your hands tremble slightly, and you hate yourself for it, because who the hell gets nervous in a crowded room full of drunk people?

The night is too long. It's too much. It's too overwhelming.

And just when you think you've had enough, just when you're about to leave and find a quiet place to breathe, someone grabs your wrist gently but firmly.

"Hey, are you okay?"

It's Yunjin. Again. Her eyes are softer now, concerned.

You blink up at her, not even realizing you'd been holding your breath. She's got that knowing look on her face, like she can see right through you.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You're not okay, but what's the point in admitting it?

Yunjin doesn't buy it. "You're not fooling anyone. Loosen up. Let go. It's just a party."

You swallow, then force a smile. "Yeah, just a party."

She gives you one last look before pulling you toward the kitchen, ready to distract you with something, anything to get you out of your head. You follow her, only half-present in the moment, lost in thoughts of someone who probably doesn't even know you exist.

The music is a dull hum in the background as Heeseung finds you and Yunjin. He looks a little too smug, like he's up to something. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach as his eyes flash between you and Yunjin, and you know exactly what's coming.

"You two," Heeseung grins, "let's go say hi to the boys. They're over by the back corner."

You immediately freeze. No. No way. You'd rather do just about anything else than walk up to that corner of the room. It's always them, always Jake and Sunghoon, always that strange tension that makes everything feel ten times harder than it needs to be.

Yunjin, surprisingly, seems to read the atmosphere instantly. "Heeseung, no. We're good. Let's just—"

But before she can finish, Heeseung's already dragging her along, and of course, that means you have no choice but to follow. You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. You could leave, but that would make you look like a coward. So, you trudge after them, barely registering the shifting in the crowd as Heeseung pulls you both toward the back.

As you approach, you see them. Sunghoon, leaning against the wall like he owns the place, his eyes cold but somehow piercing. He's not looking at you, and the familiar ache in your chest stirs again. And then there's Jake, that infuriating, charming, always-too-confident smile on his face. He's leaning toward Sunghoon, whispering something in his ear, and for a brief moment, Sunghoon's lips curl up into a rare smile—an actual, genuine one. Your heart lurches in your chest, an unfamiliar feeling tightening your throat.

It's the kind of smile you rarely get to see from him. It's like a secret just for Jake, a look of camaraderie you'll never be a part of. It almost feels like you've just been slapped. Why does it bother you so much?

And then, before you can even process the feeling, Heeseung's already talking to them about something you can't hear over the thrum of your heartbeat

Jake, not missing a beat, looks over at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, smiling like he just found his favorite toy unattended. His lips curve into that damn teasing smirk that makes your stomach churn.

"Well, well, well," Jake begins, leaning in a little too close, voice dripping with something far too cocky, "look who finally showed up, Sunghoon's biggest fan" His eyes scan you up and down, like he's not even trying to hide how much he's enjoying seeing you squirm.

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know your face is probably betraying you. The red creeping up your neck is only the start of it and like clockwork the memory of that damn day starts playing in your head, that damn art show.

The school art show wasn't your idea of fun, not by a long shot. It was all cliché stuff—overpriced paintings no one understood, weird sculptures that looked like junk, and way too many people pretending to care about the "emerging artists." You hated those events, but Yunjin had dragged you there because Heeseung had convinced her it'd be "fun", at the time you had even wondered if this was what your life would amount to, Yunjin dragging you everywhere Heeseung drags her too, You wanted to be anywhere else that night but there you were, standing in the middle of a sea of pretentious art students, holding a plastic cup of wine that tasted like it was from a box, trying to look like you belonged.

You were trying to blend into the background, holding your drink like a shield. You hated how awkward you always felt around people you didn't know, how out of place you were in spaces like that. But that wasn't the part that had bothered you. No, what hit you hardest was when you saw him.

Sunghoon.

He was standing across the room by a few abstract paintings, his expression as unreadable as ever, hands shoved into the pockets of his blazer, looking as out of place as you felt. You could never fully decipher what was going on in his head, but it didn't stop you from trying. He was stunning, impossibly cool, like he belonged in a different world, not the sweaty, underfunded art gallery that smelled like paint fumes.

You didn't know how long you'd been staring at him until you felt the weight of someone standing beside you. When you glanced over, it was Jake, his usual smirk plastered across his face. He didn't even need to say anything, not really. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew.

"Interesting, huh?" Jake's voice was low, teasing, like he was reading you like a book and you were too obvious for him to care.

Your heart skipped, heat creeping into your cheeks, but you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Not really. I'm just looking around."

But Jake wasn't buying it. His gaze flicked over to Sunghoon, then back to you, sharp and calculating. He raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You sure you're not looking at him?"

Your stomach dropped. The way he said it was casual, too casual, like he was testing the waters, but you felt your pulse quicken. No. This couldn't be happening. You could feel the blood rush to your face, betraying you. The truth was, you were looking at him. It was hard not to. Sunghoon had a way of standing in a room and making everyone else feel irrelevant. But of course, you couldn't admit that to his demon of a best friend, not now, not ever.

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on some abstract art that was meant to be a painting of a tree but looked more like a tangle of colorful spaghetti. "I wasn't—"

Jake didn't let you finish. He stepped closer, his voice a little too loud, cutting through the low hum of the party. "You know, you're really obvious sometimes."

You froze. The words burned, like they were meant to sting.

"I mean, you're always so quiet around him, so careful not to look at him too much, like you're afraid he'll notice." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "But I noticed. I always notice."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. You hadn't realized it was that obvious. Had you really been that transparent? You'd tried so hard to hide it, but it felt like every single moment around him was a magnet that pulled your attention back to Sunghoon, even when you didn't want it to.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, trying to backpedal, but Jake was already laughing, low and knowing. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that you couldn't hide from him, not anymore.

"No need to deny it," he'd said, leaning in a little too close, his smirk practically leaking into his words. "It's cute. How you've got it so bad for him. But you're not the only one who notices, you know? And don't even bother you're way too plain for...well, anyone." He nodded in Sunghoon's direction, and your heart froze at the thought of him knowing too.

Before you could even form a response, Jake was already walking off, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spiraling. The rest of the art show blurred into the background as you watched Sunghoon from the corner of your eye. He was talking to a group of people, his expression still cold, his gaze distant. He wasn't even looking at you. Of course he wasn't. You were just another face in the crowd to him.

But for that brief, horrible moment, you felt completely exposed, like your deepest, stupidest secret was laid bare for everyone to see.

Jake had seen it all and made you feel bad for it like you were so wrong for even thinking about Sunghoon. All the thoughts and memories were quickly pushed out by Jake's laughter, his reaction to your stunned expression.

Before you can muster any response, Jake's voice lowers, and he asks, his tone far too casual, "So, did you touch yourself to the thought of him this morning? I mean, come on, it's not like you've been hiding it."

Your stomach drops. The world feels like it slows down as your cheeks burn with the harsh sting of embarrassment. You're about to say something, anything, but Yunjin immediately jumps in.

"Jake, stop," she snaps, her hand on his shoulder, trying to push him away but her voice doesn't hold the sharpness it needs. It sounds more like a half-hearted attempt at deflecting, not like someone who's genuinely defending you.

You can't even look at her, the humiliation swarms you, sinking in deeper as Jake's laugh fills the space between you all. It's mocking but there's something else in it too, something darker and of course, Sunghoon is just standing there, arms crossed, his expression still unreadable. He meets your eyes for a split second and for that brief moment, your chest feels tight, like the air's been sucked out of your lungs.

His gaze is cold, but there's something there. Is it judgment? Disinterest? You can't tell. Before you can make sense of it, he looks away, turning his attention back to the group, like the brief moment never happened. And that feeling—the one you've been trying to avoid all night—surges again. You want to disappear. You want to vanish into the floor, to leave this all behind. To not have to stand here, in front of them, where every word feels like a betrayal of yourself.

"Wow, she's really shy," Jake continues, noticing the red creeping up your neck, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Your little secret's safe with me." He says crossing his heart clearly to continue in his mockery of you.

Yunjin steps in front of you, her posture protective, though you can tell she's just as uncomfortable with the way Jake's been pushing. "Jake, seriously. Just, cut it out."

But Jake doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. He's too caught up in the fun of teasing, in watching you squirm under his words. He steps closer to you, leaning in, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

"Tell me, did you think about it when you were alone? How badly you want him, hmm? I bet you've been thinking about it for a while now." His words are so casual, but the intensity behind them has your heart racing, your hands shaking at your sides.

You don't know how to answer. You don't know how to respond without making it worse. The silence stretches too long. You feel the weight of everyone's gaze, even if most of it is on you, the heat of the room pressing in, suffocating you.

And Sunghoon—he just keeps ignoring you. Like he always does. Even now, when Jake is throwing all of this in your face, Sunghoon just looks away. He doesn't speak, doesn't even acknowledge the tension between you all. You're invisible to him, and that hurts more than anything else.

The world suddenly feels smaller. You want to crawl into a hole, to escape from the fire that Jake's started with his words but for some reason you can't. Not yet.

Yunjin doesn't know what to say anymore. The air is thick with the weight of unspoken things, the tension hanging between all of you, and nothing will be the same after this.

You didn't even realize your body had moved you to walk way until you hear Yunjin calling after you but you ignore her, you don't care, you need to leave, her voice fading with every step you take. You don't care about that look of pity Heeseung probably gave you slipped out of their presence, or that anyone else in that damn party even notices your absence. All you can focus on is the frantic pounding of your heart, the feeling of humiliation that's gnawing at your insides, like it's eating you from the inside out.

The cold night air hits your skin like an ice-cold slap, sharp enough to snap you back into some kind of reality, but not enough to stop the sting in your chest. You press your arms tighter around yourself, the thin fabric of your jacket doing little to protect you. The tears you don't want to cry keep falling, though they're dry now, the cold air sucking them away before they can even make it down your face.

You hate Jake.

You hate him so much.

How dare he? How fucking dare he see through you like that, so easily, like you were some pathetic little thing for him to toy with? Like you weren't even a person, just some... joke for him to laugh at, to humiliate. He knew exactly what he was doing when he cornered you like that, when he asked you about Sunghoon like it was the most casual thing in the world. He had to have known how you'd react, how fucking embarrassed you'd be. He had to have known.

And yet, he didn't stop. He didn't care.

Your thoughts spiral, each one more self-loathing than the last, each one making your chest tighten until it's hard to breathe. You should've known this was coming, right? You should've known it would end like this—Jake, smirking, tearing you apart with a couple of words, and Sunghoon... Sunghoon—who just... looked at you. Like you were nothing. Like you were invisible.

You didn't even have the strength to stay at that party. You couldn't even pretend to enjoy yourself. You were suffocating, choking on your own insecurities. Every breath felt heavier than the last, every step you took colder than the one before.

"God, I hate him..." The words slip out before you even realize you're speaking them, your voice shaking. You're not sure if you're talking about Jake or Sunghoon anymore, but in this moment, it feels like the same thing. Like both of them were the reason you were this miserable.

Your pace quickens, though you don't know why. Maybe it's the restlessness, the panic bubbling up in your chest that makes your heart race faster, like you can't get away from the thoughts, from the feelings fast enough. You can feel your chest tightening, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You can almost feel the anxiety creeping in, wrapping around you like chains.

You want to scream, but it gets stuck in your throat. You don't know how much longer you can keep it together, keep pretending like none of this is killing you inside.

The city lights flicker in the distance as you push through the cold, the emptiness of the streets echoing the emptiness in your chest. It feels like you're walking on autopilot, each step taking you further from the party, further from the night that just destroyed everything. It's not until you reach the alley by your apartment building that you stop, your back pressed against the cold brick wall, fighting to get control of yourself.

Breathe. Just breathe.

But even the simple task of breathing feels like too much. Your head is spinning, the world around you feels far away, like you're trapped inside your own head and can't escape.

You press a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself, but the dizziness doesn't go away. Everything's too loud. Your thoughts are too loud. Your own heartbeat is too loud.

You can't stop thinking about what Jake said, what he made you feel. And Sunghoon... he didn't even notice. Did he notice? Probably not. He never notices you. You weren't worth noticing.

Tears prick at your eyes again, and you curse under your breath, wiping them away furiously, but they keep coming. How could you be this weak? How could you let them both—Jake and Sunghoon—tear you apart so easily?

It feels like everything is unraveling, like you're losing control of the only thing you had left: yourself. And you want to scream, to punch something, to hit Jake and Sunghoon for making you feel this small.

But instead, you just stand there, on the sidewalk. feeling completely hollow inside, letting the cold air do what it does best—drown out the tears you couldn't stop.

*

Two weeks, that's how much time had passed since the night of the party, two weeks of you keeping your distance from both Jake and Sunghoon, not that you were ever willingly in their presence anyway—it was easy. You'd stayed firm, avoided every chance to interact with them, despite Yunjin's insistence that you needed to stop being so stubborn. You weren't about to let yourself be subjected to Jake's taunts and Sunghoon's indifference. So, you avoided them. Kept your head down, and kept to yourself.

Whenever Yunjin tried dragging you to Heeseung's apartment or anywhere you knew they would be, you'd fake an excuse, stand your ground, and avoid them like the plague. It had been too humiliating, too hurtful to let them into your space again. Jake's teasing, his knowing smirk when he'd drop hints about Sunghoon, about your obvious feelings—everything about it made your skin crawl. Sunghoon's lack of acknowledgment had only made it worse. You weren't sure what was worse: the way Jake tormented you or the way Sunghoon simply didn't care.

But today was different. Yunjin had made a big deal about a girls' day out. Just you and her, no boys allowed. You weren't sure how she convinced you to go, but you'd relented. You needed a break from everything—the pressure of avoiding people, the stress that kept mounting every time you had to walk past Jake, every time Sunghoon was just there.

So, you got dressed.

A simple dress—nothing too flashy, but it was enough to make you feel good about yourself, for the first time in weeks. The fabric clung just enough to your figure, and you paired it with simple sandals that didn't make you feel like you had to put on some act. It was just you, trying to feel a little more like yourself.

But then, of course, life had other plans.

You met Yunjin at Heeseung's apartment, ready to head out. She'd already slipped into a playful, teasing mood, chatting excitedly about the day ahead. But as you stepped through the door, you froze.

Jake and Sunghoon were sitting in the living room, you think about bolting, making a run for it. Why are they here anyway? Don't they have some super expensive off campus apartment?

You tried to avoid eye contact, hoping they wouldn't notice you, but of course, Jake's eyes were already on you, studying you in that way that made your skin prickle.

"Y/N," Jake drawls, voice warm like honey—if honey were made of gasoline and meant to burn. "You're looking... fuckable today."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"What the actual—"

He's already pushing off the couch, making his way toward you like a predator who's just noticed his prey flinching. You take a step back instinctively, fingers gripping your phone like it could protect you.

Jake hums as he circles you. "You got a date? Some sweet campus boy finally grow the balls to ask you out?"

"I'm here for Yunjin," you bite out. "She's just grabbing something." You add, you yourself wondering why you're explaining it to him.

His eyes drag over your figure slowly. "Blue suits you."

You fold your arms over your chest. "Whatever game you're playing—"

But then his hand moves. Quick. Thoughtless.

He flips the hem of your dress up just enough to see the skin of your upper thighs and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, sweetheart. Who's the lucky guy today? Or lemme guess..."

He leans in, breath ghosting your ear, "You wore this for Sunghoon?" Your entire body stiffens and you glance past Jake's shoulder—expecting, maybe, for Sunghoon to roll his eyes, or finally say something to make Jake shut the hell up but he doesn't look at you.

He stays exactly where he is, face blank, eyes still trained on his phone like you don't even exist.

It stings more than it should.

You turn on your heel and head toward the door, heart thudding somewhere between your ribs and your throat

"Jake—" Yunjin started, her voice sharp, defensive, but it wasn't convincing. She didn't sound angry enough. Didn't sound protective enough. "Heeseung! Tell Jake to leave Y/N alone! For fucks sake". She says to her boyfriend but he just looks around like he doesn't want to get involved.

You wanted to disappear. Wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

You looked at Sunghoon again, hoping for a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of something. But no. His gaze was trained on something else entirely, indifferent to the scene Jake was creating. He didn't look up at you. Didn't acknowledge you at all.

And then, as if to prove that he'd never been part of this conversation, Sunghoon looked away towards the hallway.

You bit your lip to stop the tears from welling up, your throat tightening. The humiliation was unbearable. You didn't even care about Jake anymore, or what he said. What hurt was the fact that Sunghoon didn't even spare you a second glance.

"Jesus, Yunjin, relax," Jake continued, his voice light but dripping with mockery. "She's just dressed up. Can't blame me for noticing. Not like she's got anyone else to impress."

You wanted to scream. Wanted to say so many things, tell him to fuck off, tell him you weren't anyone's joke but you couldn't. You were stuck in that moment, frozen, watching as he mocked you.

You finally managed to move again, head low, pretending you were above it all, pretending it didn't hurt, but it did.

As you turned to leave, Jake's voice rang out again, as if he hadn't had enough of toying with you. "See you later, baby girl," he called after you, too casually, too easily. You're almost out. One hand's on the handle, back turned because you don't want to give Jake the satisfaction of seeing your face, or how flushed you feel.

But you pause against your better judgment and look back and see Sunghoon lean in to whisper something into Jake's ear his voice is low, soft. You barely hear it, just a whisper, meant only for Jake.

You don't catch the words—but you do catch Jake's reaction. He jerks his head toward Sunghoon, brows lifted in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?" Jake mutters, like it's something vile. You don't wait to hear more, you're already out the door, the fabric of your dress still settling around your thighs, and your chest feels tight again. Not because of Jake but because you don't know what Sunghoon said.

And it's driving you crazy.

Yunjin is still babbling behind you, but you barely heard her.

You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart thudding too fast. The burning in your throat was almost unbearable. You didn't even want to go out anymore. You didn't want to do anything. You were sick of feeling this way. Sick of the way Jake had gotten under your skin, sick of the way Sunghoon could make you feel like nothing without even trying.

The day blurred into night, the girls' day with Yunjin more of an exhausting performance than any kind of relief.

You laughed when she laughed, smiled when she took pictures, nodded along when she gushed about Heeseung and the shoes she wanted to buy next. You pretended. Pretended you weren't thinking about the way Jake flipped your dress like you were nothing but an object. Pretended your mind wasn't stuck on the mortifying second you caught Sunghoon not even looking at you.

You had tried.

And for a few moments, it almost worked until you were back alone in your dorm room, peeling the dress off like it was a brand you couldn't scrub off fast enough. The blue fabric lay crumpled at the foot of your bed, a mocking reminder of everything you wanted to forget.

You sat on the floor in front of your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, the textbook you were supposed to be reading long abandoned beside you. The words wouldn't sink in. Your brain was too loud, too crowded with shame. You couldn't stop replaying it, Jake's smirk, Yunjin's half-assed defense that reminded of when you were younger and her mum would make her play with you, Sunghoon's nothingness.

Your phone buzzed beside you. You didn't even think before reaching for it, needing any kind of distraction. It was a message from Jake's private instagram.

smjyn: you should let me fuck you in that blue dress, baby girl.

You stared at the screen, the bile rising in your throat so fast it nearly choked you. For a moment, you couldn't even breathe, then you were typing before you could stop yourself, your fingers moving too fast, too angry.

you: kill yourself.

You hit send, your heart hammering painfully against your ribs, the aftershock making your hands tremble. Jake didn't reply. You wished that was the end of it, you wished the night would just swallow you whole, let you sink into the silence, into the smallness you couldn't seem to shake off lately.

You tried to study. Opened the textbook again, blinked at the words until your eyes blurred. Your phone buzzed, you didn't want to look, every part of you screamed not to. But you did anyway and this time, it wasn't Jake.

It was from Sunghoon.

The username from the account you had endlessly stalked, made your stomach drop, made your fingers clench tighter around your phone. You had never texted before. He had never even looked at you like you existed, the message was short, almost careless.

parksgh: don't let jake get to you. he's just fucking around

You read it once, then again, and again. Your heart was lunging up into your throat, thudding painfully against your ribs. You hated how fast you moved to open it, hated how warm your cheeks got even though you knew better. You didn't know what to say back, you didn't even know if you should say anything back and it didn't even matter because by the time you thought about it long enough, he had already gone silent again.

Like the message itself had been a fluke. A mistake. A momentary lapse in his indifference. You set your phone down face-down on the carpet, your chest rising and falling too fast, your hands refusing to steady. You couldn't even remember what you were supposed to be studying anymore. All you could think about was the way his username looked lit up on your phone screen and how stupid you were for letting it mean something.

Your chest was tight, the weight of everything catching up with you all at once. It wasn't just the text; it was his name on your screen. You didn't know how to feel about it. He barely acknowledged you when you were in the same room, so why was he even texting you now?

You tried to resist but you couldn't help but type back.

you: okay, thank you

It felt like an awkward response, but you didn't know what else to say. It didn't even make sense that you were talking to him, you barely knew him and yet here you were, replying to his message like this was normal. You waited, breath held, for a reply, not sure what you were expecting but certainly not what came next.

parksgh: wyd

Your heart skipped a beat. What? He was asking what you were doing. Wyd?

You hadn't spoken before, he hadn't even looked at you in that way. So why was he reaching out now, like you were old friends? You sat frozen, staring at the words, your mind swirling in confusion.

The little bubble popped up again, a response almost immediately.

parksgh: you good?

Your brain stuttered as you tried to process it. This couldn't be real. Sunghoon—the guy who never said anything to you, the one who had barely looked at you, was texting you and not just some generic message, he was asking about you. You didn't know what to say, so you just typed something simple, something that wouldn't give anything away.

you: yeah, just tired

You waited, heart racing, unsure of what was going on. His responses kept coming. Short, blunt, and entirely unbothered.

parksgh: sounds like it, you been studying?

Another message came through as you were reading that one, making your head spin.

parksgh: you should get some sleep, it's kinda late no?

You didn't even know how to reply. He wasn't a friend, wasn't someone you were close with. Why was he being so... normal with you? But then, his next message made everything stop. A simple question, one that you couldn't even begin to understand.

parksgh: do you actually touch yourself while you think of me?

You froze. The air left your lungs. You couldn't breathe. The panic crept up your throat, your heart pounding violently as though it wanted to escape your chest. The words felt like a slap, hard and painful, as if your body was rejecting the sheer audacity of them. Your thoughts crashed together, the weight of what he was implying sinking in. You felt dizzy, like you were spiraling into something you couldn't control.

You couldn't—you couldn't—tell him the truth. That you had done what Jake had accused you of that night, that he was the star of all your wet dreams so instead you denied.  You scrambled to type your response, fingers shaking with the intensity of the emotions clawing at you.

you: no, no i don't. of course not.

You hit send almost too quickly, hoping the denial would settle your racing heart, but the seconds felt like hours as you waited for him to respond. Your hands were trembling, your breath shallow, as you tried to keep the panic at bay.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. You stared at your phone screen, willing the next message to come, but the minutes passed in silence. Your mind raced with confusion, frustration, and a strange, bitter emptiness. You tossed your phone aside, hoping the night would be over soon so you could just sleep and forget about everything, forget about him.

But of course, right when you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed. The message was simple, curt, and devastating.

parksgh: liar

You stared at the screen, your pulse still thundering in your ears. The word was a punch to your gut, sharp and cutting, like it was meant to tear something inside of you. You couldn't understand it, couldn't understand him but all you knew in that moment was that you were utterly, completely, lost.

You dropped your phone onto the floor like it burned.

You sat there for a minute, staring at your lap, feeling your face get hot, your chest get tight. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Sunghoon had never said more than a casual hey when you'd bumped into him before. That was it, a polite, distant nod in a crowded hallway, a meaningless word tossed over his shoulder when Heeseung introduced you to the group once, barely even looking at you.

Now, he was accusing you of touching yourself while thinking about him? And calling you a liar when you denied it?

You scrubbed your hands over your face, willing the burning behind your eyes to go away. What the hell was happening?

You weren't close. You weren't even friends. You were just Yunjin's cousin, the quiet tagalong at parties you didn't want to be at, the awkward extra body in rooms you didn't belong in. Not the kind of girl Sunghoon would think twice about as Jake had said to you before. Definitely not the kind of girl Sunghoon would text.

But he had.

You leaned back against the frame of your bed, feeling the cold seeping through the concrete, feeling the ugly knot of confusion and shame twisting in your stomach.

You hated this. You hated the way your heart had raced when you saw his name light up your screen. You hated the way you couldn't even deny it properly, because somewhere, deep down, you had thought about him. Exactly the way Jake always teased but enough that the accusation had knocked the breath out of you and you hated, just hated how badly you wanted another message from him.

You pressed your palm against your chest like you could force your heart to slow down, it didn't help. Nothing helped, you genuinely felt sick.

You weren't the kind of girl this happened to. You didn't even know how to flirt, let alone handle whatever the hell this was. You were good, you were quiet, you kept your head down, you knew your place.

Still, you were sitting here, trembling like some desperate little thing just because Sunghoon, with his pretty face and cold eyes, decided to say a few reckless words to you. You didn't know what he wanted, didn't know if he was serious, if he was playing some fucked-up joke, if he even cared what his words would do to you.

Maybe he was bored, maybe he didn't even think twice about it.

Maybe you were just a stupid, convenient distraction for him. The thought made your throat close up, made the sting behind your eyes sharpen. You climbed up into your bed turning your head into the pillow, biting down on your lip hard, willing yourself not to cry over something so stupid, over a boy who probably didn't even remember texting you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to breathe.

You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this.

You just wanted to go back, before the art show, before the party, before the texts, before your heart learned how it felt to be pulled in two different directions at once.

You just wanted to be invisible again.

You knew should've gone the long way around the finance building, you should've kept your head down, kept walking, kept pretending like the weight of that unanswered text didn't cling to you like a second skin.

Instead you stood there, muttering under your breath about your asshole finance professor, flicking through your notes like you could understand what was in it despite being the one who wrote them all down, your hands curled tight around the notebook, trying to fight the rising frustration buzzing under your skin. The sky was cloudy, the wind sharp against your legs where your skirt ended.

You didn't even notice him at first, not until you glanced up and there he was. Across the street, leaning against the stone wall like he was born there, staring at you.

Blank face, hands in his pockets. Eyes so sharp they cut through the heavy air between you.

You froze, every instinct in your body screamed to run but it was already too late. Sunghoon pushed off the wall, crossed the street without looking, closed the space between you in a few long strides like he had every right to.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move and hated how your pulse quickened anyway.

He stopped too close. Close enough that you could smell the clean laundry scent of his hoodie. Close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stared down at you like he was trying to figure out what you were made of.

And then, flat voice, barely louder than the wind:

"Why'd you ignore my last text?"

You blinked at him, like he was insane. Like you were insane for being the only one who thought this wasn't normal. You shifted your weight, glanced away, noticing how his body blocked your only exit, of course it did.

You hated how small you felt and you really hated the way his words hung between you, sticky and hot, like you owed him something.

You hated him.

"I didn't know you cared," you said finally, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. You crossed your arms, armor thin and cracking. "Since when do you even talk to me?"

He cocked his head to side, his eyes never leaving your face like he genuinely couldn't understand why you seemed mad. "Oh" He said lowly, "I thought you wanted my attention."

The breath you were holding punched out of your chest, making you take a step back but he followed, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to watch you unravel.

You didn't know what you hated more—how smug he looked or how badly you wanted to grab him by the front of that stupid hoodie and shake him until he made sense.

"I don't," you said, even though it sounded like a lie.

He tilted his head in the other direction, watching you, like you were something pathetic he'd found crumpled on the sidewalk, like you weren't even real.

You swallowed hard, the bitterness burning your throat.

He said nothing, just stood there, letting the silence stretch so taut between you it could slice you open. before you could snap, before you could say something you'd regret, he reached past you, flicked the ends of your sleeves with two fingers like he couldn't help himself.

And maybe you would've stood there forever, frozen in place, if Jake hadn't come strolling around the corner at the absolute worst moment, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth like he knew exactly what he was walking in on. He slings an arm around Sunghoon's shoulder like he's crashing a party—his usual stupid grin painted across his face, and an energy so casual it only makes things feel worse.

"Aw, am I interrupting?" he coos, eyes flicking between the two of you. "You look like you're about to cry, baby girl".

Your cheeks flame instantly. "Shut up, Jake."

He just laughs—God, you hate him—and leans in a little too close, voice low but far from discreet.

"Would she let me watch you fuck her, Hoon?" he said, all fake innocence, all ugly laughter, eyes trained on you but directing the question to Sunghoon as if you weren't there and you felt your entire body seize up, blood rushing to your face, stomach flipping painfully like you were about to be sick.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jake was already bumping Sunghoon's shoulder, brushing past like this was normal, like this was just what they did.

You didn't even notice the way Sunghoon's mouth twitched, the way something dark and unspoken passed between them, because your brain refused to process it, refused to even consider it.

All you could think about was getting away, getting anywhere that wasn't here, before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You didn't see the way Sunghoon's eyes stayed on you long after you turned and fled.

You didn't know yet what they were really like.

* You should've stayed home, when the smell of opened beer cans hits your nose you realize you should've stayed home, stayed small, stayed out of the fucking way like you'd been doing for the last month, shrinking yourself into something harmless, something invisible, something that Jake and Sunghoon couldn't touch even if they wanted to.

But you didn't, against your better judgement let Yunjin drag you out, wide-eyed and whining about how you were turning boring, how Heeseung promised it would be chill and Jake and Sunghoon would be on their best behavior, how they swore they wouldn't even look at you and you believed it, like an idiot.

Now you're standing here in the middle of some shitty house party, abandoned, holding a lukewarm plastic cup like it's a fucking shield, feeling stupid, feeling trapped. The music is too loud, the floor is sticky under your shoes, someone's laughing way too hard behind you and it feels like the sound is aimed directly at your back.

You look around like maybe you'll see Yunjin and Heeseung, maybe you'll see a way out but they're already gone, already swallowed up by the night, already tearing at each other in some dark corner and you're left with nothing but your own pathetic loneliness.

You hate this, you hate how obvious you must look, you hate how you're gripping your cup so hard it's starting to crumple in your hand and you hate that you thought, even for a second, that you'd be safe here. You really try to suppress it but a part of you starts to build resentment towards your cousin.

You're just about to turn and leave, cut your losses and slip out the door like a coward, when you feel it. That horrible prickle at the back of your neck, the sensation of being watched, heavy and suffocating and familiar in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You already know who it might before you even turn around, only two options come to your mind and you can't even decide which one is worse but of course it's him.It's always him.

Sunghoon stands across the room, half in shadow, arms folded across his chest, head tilted like he's studying you again, not smiling, not frowning, just watching.

You freeze, panic blooming low in your stomach but look away quickly, pretending you didn't see him, pretending you don't care. You take a shaky sip from your cup, trying to check your phone like you have somewhere better to be.

You lie to yourself with every breath you take but it doesn't matter because he's already moving toward you.

Your heartbeat stutters painfully in your chest as he crosses the room, cutting through the crowd like he doesn't even see anyone else, like you're the only thing that matters.

You turn your body slightly, angling away from him, hoping he'll take the hint.

He doesn't.

He stops just in front of you, so close you can smell the clean, sharp scent of his cologne, can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"Are you avoiding me?," Sunghoon asks voice indifferent like this is just some passing question he doesn't seem to want the answer to.

You swallow hard, throat dry and say nothing, even if you could speak, you don't know what to say. You don't know why he's even talking to you, why he's pretending you exist after ignoring you so effortlessly for so long.

"You look pretty." You blink. "What?" His voice is low, steady and as usual unemotional.

"Your dress is pretty and you look pretty in it, Y/N" He says so matter of factly and it almost sounds like he's telling you the sky is blue and it makes you scoff, turning your body away like maybe that'll help you breathe again. "Please don't start. I'm not doing this tonight." "Doing what?" he asks.

"You know what, Sunghoon. Why don't you and your guard dog just leave me alone?", you grit and instantly you swear you can see his mouth twitch like he's about to smile

He doesn't deny it, doesn't even argue, he takes one slow step forward. "Guard dog? You don't seem so mouthy when he's in front of you though" he almost taunts, clearly referring to how you lock up whenever Jake is close. The comment hits you so hard, you don't even notice you're against the wall now. His hand barely grazing your waist, his voice brushing your ear.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" Your breath hitches because there's no teasing tone in his voice not like the way Jake would say it just to fluster you and make your cheeks flush. He's genuinely asking if you want to kiss him. 

Sunghoon says it like he's asking a favor, like he's letting you decide.

"I—no. I mean—" you stammer, heart climbing into your throat. "I don't know what you're doing, but—"His lips brush your jaw and you immediately go quiet, your mind shifting between how this is the closest you've ever been to him and how this is also the longest conversation you've ever had.

You gasp—his hand is suddenly pressing flat against your stomach, holding you in place. "Sunghoon—"

"You don't sound like you want me to stop." You shake your head, eyes wide. "This isn't fair." "I didn't say it was."

His mouth trails lower, his breath is warm and while you're melting he's still expressionless, calm, like nothing about this affects him and maybe that's what finally breaks you.

So when he whispers, "Let me take you home," you're nodding because your body listens faster than your brain can protest.

Sunghoon unlocks his car without looking at you and gets in without waiting. You just followed him, numbly, helplessly, into his car, stomach churning and heart hammering so hard you thought you might be sick.

He drove like he kissed—silent, steady, like none of this meant anything. You sat there in the passenger seat, hands clenched in your lap, trying not to look at him, trying not to think about the way your body was still burning where he touched you, trying not to wonder why he hadn't even smiled once.

He drives in silence, not looking at you once, not when he's merging onto the freeway, not when you're stopped at a red light, not when you pull up to the underground parking lot of his building. He just turns off the engine and gets out.

You sit there for a second, paralyzed, watching his frame walk towards the elevator. Then you force yourself to move, force yourself to follow him inside, force yourself to pretend that this is fine, that you can survive this, that you won't fall apart the second he touches you again.

You don't even know why you do it, you don't know what you're hoping for or what you're trying to prove.

Maybe you just want to feel wanted or to hurt and maybe right now to you, it's the same thing.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. You half-expect him to push you against it, mouth hungry, hands impatient but instead, Sunghoon walks ahead, tossing his keys on the counter like this is routine, like you've done this a hundred times before.

You stand uselessly at the door, all stiff, unsure, heart climbing your ribs like it's trying to get away from you. He finally turns around, his eyes meet yours for the first time since the party but you can't help but look away, attempting to look around to observe the space

Sunghoon's apartment is exactly how you'd pictured it, it's big, cold and kind of empty. Everything is clean, clean to the point of sterile, all dark hardwood floors and concrete walls, black leather couch, black coffee table, flat screen bolted onto the wall.

No clutter, safe for the pile of PS5 games next to the console and a camera that's charging in the corner. Even the lights are dim, recessed into the ceiling, casting everything in sharp, ugly shadows.

There are no photos or trophies or notes on the fridge. Just space, silence and a daunting kind of emptiness. He doesn't say anything when you walk in or ask if you're okay, he just tugs you by the wrist down a short hallway into what you assume is his bedroom, like you're an obligation he's trying to get out of the way.

The room matches the rest of the apartment—gray walls, dark bedding, no signs of life. A single queen-sized bed in the center, neatly made with black sheets, a dresser, a nightstand and nothing else.

You hover awkwardly by the door, arms wrapped tight around yourself, not knowing what else to do. You want to ask him what you're doing here, or if this means anything to him at all, you want to ask him if you mean anything.

You don't, you don't say a word. He crosses the room in three long strides and crowds you against the wall again, just like he did at the party, pressing his body into yours, slotting his thigh between your legs.

You gasp, hands scrabbling at his chest. He kisses you, rougher this time, hungrier, but still there's that same frustrating emptiness radiating off him, like he's only half there.

It stings and you know it shouldn't but it does. You kiss him back anyway, desperate and clumsy, letting him push you toward the bed. You fall back against the mattress, bouncing once, heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands under your thighs and yanks you down to the edge of the bed, manhandling you like you weigh nothing.

You squeak in surprise, trying to suppress the fluttering in your stomach as presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. The touch sends a shudder through you, he doesn't seem to notice or if he does, he doesn't care, he just pushes your dress up higher, baring your thighs, your panties, the flushed vulnerability of you.

You try to press your legs together instinctively, but he's already settling between them, mouth dragging hot and slow along the sensitive skin. Your head drops back against the bed with a helpless whine. It's overwhelming, the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he's so calm while you're falling apart.

He kisses the crease of your thigh, breathes against the damp cotton of your underwear, licks a slow stripe over the center and you jerk, thighs trembling but he doesn't stop, he doesn't even flinch. It's almost clinical, the way he touches you , it's efficient, methodical but his mouth. God, his mouth.

His mouth might be the only part of him that's honest, it is frantic, almost desperate even. Devouring, like he's starving for you, like he's trying to say everything he's never said aloud, everything he can't bring himself to voice.

You fist his sheets, chest heaving, feeling tears sting at your eyes. It feels too good,  too much, like you're dying but also floating. You barely register it when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, baring you completely. You barely register it when he slides a finger through your folds, testing your wetness, humming low in his throat like he's pleased.

You only really come back to yourself when you feel the tip of his finger pressing against your entrance, when your whole body locks up in terror, when you squeeze your eyes shut like you're bracing for impact.

Sunghoon halts. You can feel it, the sudden tension in his body, the way his head lifts, the way he goes still between your legs. You crack your eyes open to find him staring up at you and his brows are drawn together, just slightly. You realize you're shaking and quite clearly crying. "Have you..." he starts, voice rougher than before, almost uncertain before he clears his throat. "Have you done this before?"

You shake your head, violently, squeezing your eyes shut again, humiliated beyond belief. You're so sure this is it, he's going to kick you out, he's going to laugh in your face and tell you he doesn't fuck virgins. So you brace for it and wait for the disgust, the mockery but it doesn't come. Instead, you feel his lips against your knee, soft and featherlight, like an apology he doesn't know how to give.

"Don't cry," he murmurs. Your breath shudders out of you and when your open your eyes, Sunghoon is still kneeling between your legs, still staring at you with that same unreadable expression, but there's something different now, something softer, something almost vulnerable.

He brushes his thumb over your thigh, gentle and you can't even hide your surprise that he doesn't move to get off you or tell you to leave.

He stays, like maybe, just maybe, you're not completely disposable after all. He's there looking at you in a way that has you trembling, gasping for air and blinking tears from your eyes, when he leans in closer, breath ghosting over the slick, swollen heat of you, his mouth brushing your inner thigh as he speaks. "So," he says, low and almost lazy. "What did you do when you touched yourself thinking about me?"

You choke on your own spit and you feel your whole body lock up again, shame burning hotter than your skin. "I— I didn't," you lie, immediately, stupidly. He huffs a laugh against your thigh, the first real sound he's made all night but it's not cruel, not that it's kind either. It's just amused. "Oh?" he murmurs, lips still trailing your inner thighs, "Then why are you shaking like that?"

You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to disappear but he doesn't let you. He presses a kiss to the very edge of your hipbone, then another, closer and another.

"Tell me," he says, voice slipping lower, rougher. "Tell me what you did." You can't breathe, like the air has been completely stolen from your lungs. You can't lie either, not when he's looking at you like that, like he already knows and he's just waiting for you to admit it.

"I— I just—" you stammer, your voice breaking. "I just rubbed—" you curl in on yourself, mortified, "I rubbed my clit a little, that's all, I swear." You force the words out like a confession, like a sin and Sunghoon? He smiles. For the first time since you've known him, for the first time ever, he smiles at you. It's small, almost imperceptible but it's there and it knocks the air out of your lungs.

Like he's pleased, almost like he's proud of you. "Good girl," he says, and your heart almost explodes. You're still trying to process that, still trying to make sense of the sudden weightlessness in your chest, when he dips his head again, mouth closing over your clit without warning. You cry out, hips bucking up off the bed but he doesn't even flinch, he just pins you down, hands bruising against your thighs, licking you like he's been starving for it, like you're the only thing he's ever wanted and you sob, writhing, overwhelmed.

It's too much but it's not enough, you don't even know anymore.

He doesn't give you a second to breathe, to think, to ask him why he's doing this, what you are to him, why it feels like you're being torn apart and stitched back together all at once.

He just keeps going.

Keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, keeps teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

When he finally pulls his mouth off you, you're keening, fists twisting in the sheets, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. He lifts his head to look at you, face flushed, mouth slick, and mutters, almost to himself that you barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. "Need to get you ready."

You sob again when you feel him nudge a finger at your entrance. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for. "Please slow down, I—" He cuts you off by tapping your thigh, light but firm. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he says, flat and emotionless, like he's just reminding you of the rules he never even told you in the first place.

Then he pushes inside, you gasp, a very raw, broken sound, as your walls clench instinctively around him. He groans low in his throat, but otherwise shows no reaction, like it's nothing, like you're nothing. You clutch at the sheets, tears burning your eyes again, but you don't tap out. You don't stop him, you can't because it's not like you want to anyway.

He works his finger in and out of you slowly, methodically, never looking up, never checking your face. You try to catch your breath, to calm down, to not cry harder but fail.

And Sunghoon doesn't stop, he just keeps going—steady and unflinching, like you're a problem he's determined to solve, like your pain and or pleasure isn't even real to him, like you're something he already owns but somehow, somehow, it still feels like the best thing anyone's ever given you.

He's relentless, barely even gives you a second to breathe, to think, to feel anything but the stretch of him working you open, one finger at first, slow and steady, ignoring every soft sob that falls from your lips.

You feel like you're drowning. The bed is too big, the room too cold, the walls are grey, the sheets are dark, the only light coming from the dim bedside lamp casting long shadows across the plain white walls, like he doesn't feel anything and maybe he doesn't and you're the idiot for expecting him to.

You dig your fingers into the sheets tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, trying not to sob out loud again. Trying not to embarrass yourself even more. Then you feel it, the slow, deliberate curl of his finger inside you.

You hiccup, chest spasming with another silent cry. Sunghoon clicks his tongue, sharp and soft at the same time. "Stop crying," he mutters, not looking up from between your thighs, it's almost bored, almost annoyed but there's something under it too, something you can't name.

You sniffle pitifully, nodding even though he's not looking at you, even though you don't think you could stop even if you tried. Then he shifts again, sliding his mouth back over your clit, and the heat of it makes you jolt. You mewl helplessly, high and broken, when he sucks harshly at the sensitive bud.

"Gonna add another," he mutters against you, voice low and unaffected, like he's just narrating, like you're not trembling beneath him. You barely have time to brace yourself before he's pushing a second finger inside. The burn is sharp, almost unbearable, and your whole body arches off the bed involuntarily, you're  gasping, panting, trying to wriggle away from the overwhelming sensation, but he just presses your hips down, holding you in place like it's nothing.

You whimper, the sound muffled against your fist when you shove it into your mouth to stop yourself from making more noise. You don't even realize you're babbling until you hear your own voice cracking through the air, "Sunghoon, Sunghoon—"

You're not even thinking, you're just saying his name like a prayer, like it might save you. For a second, he stills, before softly, curiously, he murmurs, "Yeah?" and it's he thinks you're trying to talk to him, like he doesn't even realize it's just moaning.

Your whole face burns hotter, your body trembling harder, you shake your head frantically, tears dripping onto the pillow.

You don't know what you're saying anymore, you don't know anything at all, except for him, his mouth, his fingers, the way he's filling you, the way he's making your body light up in ways you've never known it could.

He curls his fingers again, deeper this time, deliberate and suddenly you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry out, bucking your hips up against his mouth, sobbing out another desperate, broken whimper of his name.

And he gets it then, you can feel it in the way his mouth curves into a smirk against you, the way he presses in deeper, harder, finding that spot again, hitting it relentlessly until you're gasping, twitching, clenching around his fingers so hard it hurts. Your whole body's on fire and you're so close you can't even think. He's still so calm, so detached, like he's just...studying you, watching you fall apart with that same unreadable look on his face.

You don't even realize you're crying again until he lifts his head, looking up at you with a frown. "You're so sensitive," he says, almost wonderingly. "You gonna cum already?" You shake your head, sobbing harder, even as your hips grind desperately against his fingers. He huffs a soft laugh under his breath, not mocking, just...satisfied.

And then when he's lowering his mouth again, sucking harshly on your clit while his fingers fuck into you deep and slow. You don't stand a chance, you come undone with a wrecked cry, shattering under him, your whole body locking up and then convulsing, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

He doesn't stop or even slow down. He works you through it, fingers deep, mouth unrelenting, until you're gasping, shaking, tears flooding down your cheeks from the overstimulation and only then—only then, does he finally pull back.

You feel so empty when he does, you almost sob again, he sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — looking completely unaffected while you lay there ruined, shaking, broken on his bed.

You cover your face with your hands, humiliated, you don't even know what you're crying about anymore. The pain? The pleasure? The way it all feels so impossibly hollow when he's looking at you like that?like he's still a thousand miles away even when he's inside you.

"Don't cry," he says again, voice almost too soft to be real but he doesn't reach for you, doesn't comfort you or say anything else.

He just sits there, watching and waiting like he doesn't know what to do with you now that he's broken you but then you feel him lift off the bed and you hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing.

You're alone now and you don't know how long you lay there, body trembling, cheeks sticky with tears drying into itchy trails down your skin. Minutes pass, maybe even hours cause it feels endless.

The room is too quiet without him, so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat, your own ragged breathing. The ache between your legs hasn't faded. It throbs there, humiliating and hot, like a bruise you can't stop pressing on. You stare up at the ceiling. You wonder if this is it, if he's just going to leave you like this. Used up, humiliated and forgotten.

You try to move, but everything feels too heavy, you feel stupid for thinking it might've meant something different when he touched you and you feel even stupider for still wanting more.

The door opens again, making whole body tenses on instinct. You don't sit up because in reality you can't. You listen to the soft footfalls across the room then the mattress dips beside you.

You flinch, you can't help it then something presses into your arm, you blink and look. It's a water bottle, unopened and cold. You glance up at him, confused, uncertain but he's not looking at you. He's staring blankly at the floor, legs spread casually, one arm draped over his bent knee.

You fumble to unscrew the cap, hands still shaking, and take a small sip, the water almost choking you. The silence is suffocating. You don't know why you're surprised when he breaks it first. When he turns his head just slightly, eyes flickering to you, dark, unreadable and says, almost absent-mindedly,

"You want more?"

Your breath catches and you stare at him, wide-eyed, like you must've heard wrong but then you see his mouth twitch. The tiniest hint of a curios smile, genuine like he really doesn't know the answer.

Your heart stutters painfully as you set the water down on the nightstand with clumsy fingers.

Your throat is dry even though you just drank and you nod.

Barely, a small, scared movement.

He watches you steadily for a moment then he tips his head slightly, like he's trying to get a better look at you. "You sure?" his voice is lower now, rougher but still that same detached calm but something else too, threading underneath.

Something you want so desperately to be real and it makes you nod again, a little firmer this time because don't trust your voice to come out right.

He stares at you a second before moving slowly.

He stands up, shrugging his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, leaving him in shirtless with just his jeans. Your heart hammers against your ribs, panic and anticipation fighting for space in your chest. You watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing them down his hips with a casualness that almost makes you dizzy.

He's already half-hard, think and heavy between his thighs. You realize, distantly, that you're gawking so you quickly jerk your gaze away, cheeks burning.

You hear a soft, breathless chuckle from above you not mean and then he's crawling back onto the bed, over you, caging you in with his body.

You feel so small beneath him like prey. He's looking at you differently now, not in the normal cold and empty way, he's looking at you with hunger now and it makes you shiver.

"You sure?" he asks again, voice barely a murmur this time, lips brushing your temple.

You nod frantically, squeezing your eyes shut. "Say it," he says, tone still maddeningly calm. "Need to hear you." Your voice is a whisper, a plea, a confession. "I want you," you breathe. "I want more."

Something in him finally cracks. You feel it in the way his whole body shifts closer, the way his mouth finds yours in a kiss that's nothing like before. His tongue slides against yours, filthy and slow, and you whimper into his mouth without meaning to.

He kisses you like he wants to consume you as if he needs to and when he pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, he's panting. For the first time tonight, he doesn't look unreadable, wrecked and hungry. He shifts, reaching between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance — the swollen, aching place between your legs still slick from his mouth.

He rubs the head of his cock against you, slow, deliberate, pulling another pathetic whine from your throat. You feel him smile against your cheek. "You're so wet," he murmurs, nudging your thighs wider with his knees, not even asking, just taking. You feel the blunt head of him pressing against you and it's too much, it's not enough, you can't tell which.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he reminds you, voice rougher now. You nod frantically again because you don't want him to stop, you just want everything he's willing to give. Even if it's nothing real or even if it feels you emptier than before.

He doesn't say anything when he pushes in. Doesn't shush you, doesn't kiss you, doesn't tell you it's okay. He kind of just watches, like he's waiting for something, like you're some sort of test he's trying to pass. The stretch is unbearable, sharp and hot and you're scrabbling at his shoulders before he's even halfway in, breathing fast and panicked against his neck.

You hear yourself whispering, wait wait wait wait but he's already slowing, already stopping, his hands bracketing your hips steady and firm like he expected this because he knew you'd break apart underneath him. You feel him breathe against your temple, slow and even. He's still hard, still not fully inside you but he's giving you the space to catch up even if he looks utterly unbothered doing it. "Relax," he says after a beat. "You're making it worse."

You nod frantically against him, squeezing your eyes shut, willing your body to loosen, willing the burn to subside. It takes a minute, maybe longer and he waits like he has all the time in the world.

Not stroking your hair or murmuring sweet things like you imagined the person you'd lose your virginity to would do, none of that. He's just existing above you, warm and solid, until finally you whimper, nodding again, giving him permission to move.

He pushes in slower this time but you still cry out, it's too much, too much, you feel so impossibly full but he hushes you, a soft sound, almost absent-minded, like he's trying to focus. You claw at his shoulders, needing something to hold onto, needing something real while your body stretches and aches around him. You hear him swear under his breath when he bottoms out, low and strained, like he's barely keeping himself together.

He stays there, buried deep, not moving. You don't realize you're crying again until he shifts just enough to catch your face in his hand, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Still with me?" he mutters, thumb brushing your wet cheek almost carelessly. You nod, trembling, wrecked and he gives a low breath of a laugh, amused but not mean. "Good girl," he says, more to himself than to you and it makes your heart seize painfully in your chest.

Good girl.

You cling to it like a lifeline.

He moves then.

Slow at first, dragging out almost all the way before pressing back in and it's overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, the stretch and slide and pressure so much you can't breathe properly. You can hear the slick, embarrassing sounds your bodies make, can hear the broken little noises spilling from your own mouth. You bury your face in his shoulder, too humiliated to meet his eyes. He fucks you in slow, grinding thrusts, deep and steady, like he's trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him.

You're babbling something, you don't even know what, little pleading sounds that don't form real words. You hear him murmur something against your hair, so soft you almost miss it. "Fuck," he mutters. "You're so fucking tight." You whimper at the words, at the ragged sound of his voice, at the way he sounds affected for once, not calm, not detached, but wrecked. He groans low in his throat when you clench around him by accident, and his hips stutter for the first time.

"You're not doing it on purpose, right?" he mutters, almost teasing. "You're just that desperate, huh?" You shake your head frantically, sobbing against his skin, too overwhelmed to even think straight. You hear him laugh again, a breathless, disbelieving sound and then his mouth finds your shoulder, your neck, teeth scraping lightly. Your nails dig into his back, desperate, and he lets you, he lets you cling to him, lets you leave marks on his skin.

At some point, you don't know when, he finds a rhythm that brushes something devastatingly good inside you. Your whole body jerks when he hits it and you cry out, high and sharp.

He stiffens, then slowly, he pulls back and thrusts into that same spot again. Harder and deeper. You keen, the sound raw and broken, he does it again and again. Until you're sobbing into his neck, clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping you alive, you can't seem to stop moaning his name. You don't even realize you're doing it until you feel him smirk against your throat.

"Yeah?" he says, almost amused. "Is that what you like?" You nod frantically, tears leaking out the corners of your eyes. "You're so fucking sensitive," he murmurs, almost admiring. "Didn't even know girls like you existed."

You want to ask what he means. You want to ask what kind of girl he thinks you are but you can't speak, you can barely think only feel. It feels too much, too good, too raw. He keeps fucking into that spot, relentless, steady, unforgiving, until you're arching beneath him, your whole body trembling, your voice breaking on desperate cries. You cum with a strangled sob, clenching around him so tight he curses, low and vicious. You shake and shudder, tears spilling hot and fast, still clutching at him like you'll fall apart without him but doesn't stop moving or give you a second to catch your breath. He keeps fucking you through it, slow but deep, grinding against that sensitive place inside you until you're gasping and whimpering and scratching at his back without meaning to.

You can't take it, your whole body feels too raw, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. You tap frantically at his shoulder, voice breaking. "S-Stop— please—"

He stills immediately, breathing hard above you. You feel him pull out slowly, carefully, and you collapse back against the sheets, boneless and trembling. There's a pause and you barely register him looking down at you, at the spots of blood smeared between your thighs, at the stains on his sheets.

He sighs.

"You bled on my bed," he mutters, like it's mildly annoying and it makes you flinch, humiliated, curling in on yourself but then before you can sink too deep into the shame, you feel him brush a hand over your knee. Gentle, almost absent-minded that it makes you blink up at him through tear-blurred eyes. He looks exhausted, disheveled and a little dazed. His thumb traces circles into your skin, not looking at you.

"You did good," he says quietly, almost endearingly. Then, louder, more to himself than to you — he mutters, "First time... fuck."

He leans back on his palms where he's sat at the edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his hair, looking genuinely thrown off for the first time. You don't know what to say, you didn't even know if you should say anything at all so you just lie there, aching and ruined, staring up at the ceiling like maybe you'll wake up and this will all have been some fever dream.

But you don't wake up, because this is real and he's real. Your whole body feels heavy, used up, raw and your thighs are sticky, the sheets beneath you damp and crumpled. The room smells like sweat and sex and something softer, something sweeter—him, you think. Sunghoon moves around the room in that quiet, efficient way he does everything, tugging the blanket up over you, finding the bottle of water from earlier and cracking it open but he doesn't look at you while he works. You think, distantly, stupidly, that he looks more real like this, less like the untouchable version of him you built in your head and more like a boy with messy hair, bitten lips and fingerprints pressed into his hips.

He comes back to the bed, crouches at the edge, and presses the bottle into your hand. You almost drop it cause your fingers are too shaky but he catches it, wrapping his hand around yours until you can hold it steady. "Drink," he says simply. You sip, obedient, trying to focus on how it tastes metallic now that it's lukewarm. You don't realize he's still touching you until you feel his thumb stroking over the inside of your wrist, absent and repetitive, in a way that seems like he doesn't even know he's doing it. He watches you drink, then takes the bottle from you when you're done and tosses it onto the floor with a soft thunk.

There's a weird, heavy silence between you, not uncomfortable, just thick with something you don't have the words for. He shifts back onto the bed, sitting with one knee drawn up, shirt sticking to his chest. He clears his throat once, like he's thinking through what he wants to say. "You want me to drive you home?" he asks eventually, making you blink up at him, throat dry even thought you just had water. You're not sure what you expected him to say, something colder, maybe. Something meaner but his voice is weirdly careful, almost... tentative.

He scratches the back of his neck. "I live with Jake," he mutters, like it's some necessary disclaimer. You realize, a beat too late that it's not about him hiding you. Something in you convinces yourself that this is his own weird way protecting you. From Jake and from the teasing you know would come if Jake figured this out.

It's almost enough to make you cry again but you bite it back, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You're about to shake your head to tell him no, it's fine, you'll call a cab, you don't want to be his problem anymore but then you realize he's now holding you. Somewhere in the middle of everything, somewhere between the water and the words, he'd pulled you against him, tucked you into his side and you didn't even notice.

His arm is around your shoulders, warm and steady. His hand is rubbing slow circles into your bare thigh, not sexual just steady and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and wrecked, he catches your stare and raises an eyebrow, that unreadable almost-smirk twitching at his mouth.

"What?" he says, voice rough and low. You shake your head, bury your face into his chest instead, trying to hide the way you're falling apart all over again. Trying to hide how much this, the tiny stupid casual tenderness of it is undoing you faster than anything else tonight.

He keeps holding you, stroking your back now and it's all the gentleness you wanted in the start, It feels so good, you don't realize you've fallen asleep, maybe it was somewhere between his hand tracing slow lines up and down your thigh or when you curled deeper into his chest, hiding from the world outside the four walls of his room.

You don't know but you wake up to the feeling of him shifting, gathering you against him, moving you like you're something breakable. You blink up at him, dazed and disoriented. "C'mon," he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I'm driving you back." The way he says it so definitively has you thinking there was never a version of this story where he didn't

You don't remember getting dressed cause he helps you, pulling your dress down over your hips, smoothing it out like it matters if it's wrinkled now. He doesn't touch you wrong or linger where he shouldn't, he just gets you ready, like you're something he needs to take care of.

The drive back is nothing like the drive to his apartment.

The first time, it had been silent, heavy even, your heart slamming itself against your ribs with every mile closer you got to something inevitable. Now it's quieter, somehow, still tense and thick but not scary. Not when he keeps glancing over at you, real glances this time, not just bored flickers, like he's making sure you're still breathing.

"You okay?" he asks when the stoplight stretches a little too long. His hand settles on your thigh without even thinking, warm, steady, thumb stroking small arcs into your skin. You nod without thinking, too cause you don't trust your voice and his jaw tightens like he doesn't believe you but he doesn't press, he just squeezes your thigh gently, keeping it there, like he needs the contact to stay grounded.

The city blurs by outside the window, neon smears, headlights, the occasional drunken laughter of a group stumbling home from the bars. You stare out at it and try not to think about the fact that his hand hasn't moved and that he's still touching you like it's second nature now.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he cuts the engine without a word and climbs out. Your brain can barely register that you didn't give him an address but yet here you are. You fumble with the door handle and your seatbelt, still half-dazed, but he's already there, opening it for you, offering a hand you don't take because you're too stunned to move. You look up at him and can't help but sense there's something different about him now, something softer around the edges, something raw. "Text me," he says, low and serious, an order. "And..." he hesitates, jaw clenching, like the next part hurts to say. "Don't cry again."

It's almost desperate, almost as if it does something to him, seeing you fall apart. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. You're standing there on the sidewalk, small and ruined and still half in love with a boy who doesn't even know how much damage he's doing. He watches you for a second longer, waiting, like he's giving you the chance to say no, tell him to fuck off and end whatever this is before it starts but you don't.

You just nod, biting your lip so hard it stings. Without another word, he's backing away, climbing into his car, pulling off into the night with the windows down and the music low and his hand still flexing like he misses the feel of you under his palm.

You don't text him or even think about texting him, you genuinely try not to. You bury your phone under your pillow, your backpack, sometimes even your bed, as if that'll keep the temptation away. As if you're not sitting there, curled up in bed with the covers pulled up over your head, thinking about his hand on your thigh during the drive back. Thinking about the way he opened the door for you like it mattered. Thinking about the way he said don't cry again like it physically hurt him to see it.

It doesn't help, none of it does so much so that you spiral, slow, inevitable all into something heavy and gray and miserable. Yunjin notices immediately, of course she does, she keeps knocking on your door, calling you, threatening to break in if you don't answer her. She even gets Heeseung to come at one point, she probably told him something frantic enough that you have to lie through your teeth and tell them you're just sick or tired or busy.

Anything but the truth.

You don't leave your dorm except for class and even then, you barely make it out the door, trudging across campus like a ghost.

Until, three days later, you drag yourself out to a small cafe off campus, needing a change of scenery, somewhere quiet to pretend you're still a person. You've been there for maybe an hour, laptop open, notes spread ever, highlighter caps scattered across the table then you feel it.

A presence, a shadow falling over your table that makes you look up and there Sunghoon stands, different hoodie, same unreadable face but there's something in his eyes, something sharper, something frustrated, something almost desperate when he says, "I told you to text me." You blink at him, heart slamming into your ribs so hard you swear you hear it. He stares down at you for a second longer, shoving his hands into his pockets like he's physically stopping himself from reaching for you.

Then, deadpan, he says "Don't you wanna have sex again?" You just stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing but no words forming. The cafe noise blurs around you and you shove your chair back roughly and stand up, your heart hammering, your hands shaking, your voice raw when you snap at him "I'm tired of being confused."

He blinks, actually looks caught off-guard but you're not finished. "What do you even want, Sunghoon?" You're almost yelling not caring if people are looking cause now you just need to know. You need to stop being this wreck, this ruin, this stupid girl still hoping for softness from someone who only ever gives you pain.

Sunghoon doesn't answer right away, he just looks at you, unmoving like he's thinking or deciding something. And then, so soft you almost don't hear it, he says "You." Your breath catches as your whole body goes rigid. For half a second, half a heartbeat, you believe him, you believe he means it Until he tilts his head slightly, voice dropping, eyes darkening as he adds "In my bed again." It just feels like you've been punched hard and straight through the chest. Your hands tremble at your sides as you stare at him—at this boy you thought you hated, thought you craved, thought you needed and you realize; You don't know him at all.

You're about to walk away, already trying to gather up your things into your bag, you're thinking about how you'll shove past him, out the door, back into the rain-slicked street but then Sunghoon leans in. So close you can feel the heat of him bleeding into you. His voice lowers like something rougher and raspier, like it's been clawing its way out of his throat. "I meant it," he says. "You."

You halt, you hate him, you hate him so much but he's still leaning in, dipping his head down slightly like he's confessing something dark, something private, like he's handing you a piece of him, bloody and raw. "You don't get it," he says, almost whispering now. "Nobody's ever been like that. In my bed." Your heart cracks, the worst part is you believe him, you believe he's telling the truth but there's still that sharp, selfish edge to it, that gleam in his eyes like he's not just confessing, he's coaxing, begging even.

"Let me have you like that again," he says, and his mouth is so close to yours it almost feels like a kiss. It's almost sweet, if not for the way he says it—half desperate, half manipulative, like he thinks those are the words you want to hear and he knows you'll fall for it. Maybe you already have because your body is betraying you, shivering, leaning closer, your fingers curling into fists at your sides so you don't grab him by the hoodie and kiss him first.

You want to hurt him back but all you can do is whisper, broken "You don't even know what you're asking for." Sunghoon just looks at you, silent and still, a flash of something almost like regret in his eyes but it's gone too fast for you to catch it properly. His fingers twitch in his hoodie pocket, like he wants to reach for you and doesn't know if he's allowed.

He hesitates, for the first time, he hesitates, before he speaks again "Let me learn" and it guts you because you're stupid enough to want to believe it. You're stupid enough to want him even when you know better. If you weren't so stupid you would have noted the amount of chances you had to turn away and tell him no but you don't, not when he's helping you pack up your things or guiding you to his car, not when he's pulling you in for desperate kisses at stoplights, you don't say no because the part of you that wants him is bigger and anything else and because you're stupid.

The memory of how you got here is a haze, you remember him frantically pulling off your sweater as soon as you walked in through the door, unlike the first time you were in his apartment and he waited to take you into his room, it's all so frantic, the heat of his mouth on your neck, the way his hands tug at your skirt frustratingly before he's grunting against your mouth like he's telling you to do it and you do, You remember him picking you up off the ground making your legs instinctively wrap around him as he holds you up effortlessly, taking you to his room again and placing you on the bed more gently.

You can't help but notice how his room looks a bit different in the daylight but your thoughts about it are thrown out the window when you feel him pull your panties down your legs and stare at where you're wet for him. His mouth is just devouring as devouring as it was the first time, it's so skillful, it has you arching instantly, grabbing at his hair and bucking your hips up to meet his mouth.

You don't hear the door open or even sense someone is in the room until his voice cuts through the dim air like a blade.

"Well, well. Look at you."

Your eyes fly open to meet Jake's, he's leaning against the wall, jaw clenched, arms crossed, eyes dark but he's not mad. No, he's smiling, slowly and cruelly like watching the punchline of a joke he told hours ago finally land. "Guess I was right about you."

Your hand flies to Sunghoon's shoulder, tapping at him panicked, breathless. "Hoon—Sunghoon—stop. He's here—" But Sunghoon doesn't even glance back. He just coos, soft and low. "It's okay," he murmurs, almost fondly. "Ignore him." Ignore him? Ignore Jake standing there, wolf-eyed and grinning, hands shoved into his pockets like he's about to stay a while.

You try to pull away again, one last desperate wriggle of your hips but Sunghoon is relentless. His mouth finds your clit again, his hands pressing your thighs wide, pinning you open like a butterfly.

Pinned, shivering, exposed and Jake fucking laughs under his breath. "Desperate little thing," he says, almost sweetly. "You like this, huh? Like having an audience?" Your throat closes up and your heart punches against your ribs.

You squeeze your eyes shut humiliated, so humiliated but Sunghoon's tongue doesn't falter, his fingers don't slip. He's focused like you're the only thing in the world, like Jake's presence is meaningless. Maybe it is. Maybe all that matters is the way Sunghoon is pulling these pathetic little sounds out of you, wet, broken and soft.

Jake comes closer because you feel his heat at your side, hear the way he crouches down, mouth grazing your ear when he speaks  "Go on, pretty baby," he whispers. "Cum for him." You sob, you can't help it and Sunghoon's tongue just flattens harder, swirling, ruthless.

Jake hums approvingly.

"Yeah, that's it. Cum like a good girl for your beloved Sunghoon." Your whole body snaps tight and you fall apart like he ordered it, helpless, degraded and soaked. You cum hard, gasping, clutching at the sheets, your hips jerking up into Sunghoon's mouth like you're chasing it, like you need it to survive. It's pathetic; it's degrading and it's the best thing you've ever felt. Sunghoon doesn't even slow down through it, just keeps licking, gentle now, coaxing the last little spasms out of you until you're shaking, whimpering, completely broken open.

Jake just watches, smirking.

You don't even realize you're shaking until you try to sit up, your hands are trembling and the sheets are damp under your thighs, your whole body still pulsing from the devastating orgasm Sunghoon wrung out of you like it was nothing.

You don't even have time to gather yourself or to cry or scream or run, before Sunghoon is shifting, sitting back on his heels between your spread thighs. "Let Jake take your top off," he says, all flat and dispassionate like he's asking you to hand him your notebook in class.

Your mouth falls open and you blink at him—once, twice—because surely you didn't hear that right."No," you croak, voice ragged with confusion, shame and heartbreak. "What the fuck—" You glance between them, voice rising. "You guys are fucking weird." You yank at the sheets, trying to cover yourself but Sunghoon doesn't even flinch. Jake that's still smirking devilishly just shifts closer to the bed, looming over you and Sunghoon? God, Sunghoon just tilts his head, looking at you. That same unreadable stare, dark and heavy and burning but this time there's something different there. Something that reaches out and claws at you even as you recoil. Not affection or cruelty, just want, so intense it's borderline unbearable.

Jake's gaze is different, lighter, crueler, like he's seeing you as something to be played with but Sunghoon—Sunghoon is hungry. You feel it crackling in the air, feel it vibrating against your skin and God, you hate yourself, because your body is betraying you again — your head nodding before you even realize it, weak, desperate, aching.

Jake grins, sharp and wolfish—the second you do. "Good girl," he breathes, wasting no time, before you can regret it, his fingers slip under the hem of your flimsy top, tugging it over your head, baring you completely, safe for your bra that he immediately discards and his mouth is on you immediately, hot and slick and brutal.

Sucking at the soft flesh of your tit, biting down just enough to make you whimper. You gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, not pushing him away or pulling him close either, just clutching him, trying to hold yourself together. It's too much, their hands, their mouths, the heavy stare of Sunghoon's black eyes like he's drinking you in.

You can't catch your breath and Sunghoon's patience wears thinner by the second. You can feel it in the way his hands slide up your thighs, the way he spreads you open again without a word, the way his cock twitches against his thigh as he watches Jake mark you up.

He's done waiting, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, not even bothering to slow down, not even pretending to give you time to adjust. "Move," he mutters to Jake, a single word, sharp-edged. Jake laughs against your skin but he obeys, pulling back just enough for Sunghoon to settle between your thighs. You barely have time to whimper before Sunghoon is there, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, not cruel but not careful either, sliding in with slow, brutal finality.

You gasp high and broken—your nails digging into the sheets. Jake's mouth finds your ear, murmuring filth. Sunghoon just fucks into you like you're a thing he's owed, stretching you open on his cock and you clench on him, your hips jerking with every punishing thrust, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes and soaking the sheets beneath you. Your head is spinning, your chest heaving, every nerve ending raw and oversensitized.

You think if he fucks you any harder, you'll just shatter apart and you almost want him to. You almost want him to break you completely so you'll stop feeling this ache, this desperate, hollow yearning for something he refuses to give you. Your eyes screw shut, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sheets and it's all just white noise.

Until one particularly brutal thrust has your whole body jerking and your eyes fly open on instinct and that's when you see it. Through the blurry haze of your tears, your vision sharpening in short, frantic bursts. You see Sunghoon not just fucking you but kissing Jake, in fact it's not just kissing, it's devouring. Sunghoon's mouth is slanted hard over Jake's, his tongue forcing its way between his lips, messy and aggressive. Jake is grinning into the kiss like he's won, one hand tangled in the back of Sunghoon's hair, the other lazily tweaking his own nipple through his t-shirt, like he's savoring the way Sunghoon is practically fucking his mouth too.

You whimper without meaning to, your body clenching helplessly around Sunghoon's cock at the sight because it's so much, too much even. Sunghoon driving into you, Sunghoon moaning into Jake's mouth, Jake playing with himself, Jake smirking like he knows exactly what this is doing to you and somewhere deep down, even through the pleasure flooding your body, even through the slick obscene noises filling the room, you know now what you hadn't let yourself believe before. That this thing between Jake and Sunghoon—whatever it is—It's more.

They're not just friends, they can't be, not with the way Sunghoon is gripping Jake's jaw, the way he's pulling those filthy little noises out of him like he knows exactly how. Your stomach twists, sick and overwhelmingly turned on. You're so close again, you can feel it, your whole body trembling on the precipice of another orgasm, Sunghoon's thrusts getting sloppier, deeper, his low grunts spilling out of him like he can't even hold them back anymore.

"Jake," Sunghoon suddenly groans all wrecked and desperate "I'm—" Before you can even understand what's happening, Jake is moving, quick and decisive. He shoves Sunghoon back by the hips, pulling his cock out of you with a wet, messy noise that has you gasping at the sudden emptiness. Your legs twitch, your pussy instinctively clenching down around nothing and then you watch, horrified as Jake drops to his knees in front of Sunghoon like it's normal, like it's natural and wraps his lips around Sunghoon's flushed, dripping cock without hesitation.

Sunghoon moans, really moans. Loud, guttural, shameless, the kind of sound he never gave you, the kind of sound you ached to pull out of him. Jake hums smugly around him, looking right at you, his eyes sharp and gleaming with amusement.

Like he's mocking you, almost daring you to say something. To admit how much you wish it were you making Sunghoon fall apart like that. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands fisting in the ruined sheets, every inch of you burning with humiliation and confusion and sick, aching need.

Sunghoon stands there, looking disheveled and flushed, his skin slick with sweat, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his swollen mouth. Jake wipes his lips with the back of his hand but instead of stepping away, instead of giving you a moment to think, he's reaching for you.

His hand tangles in your hair firm and he's dragging you forward, toward him. You don't even resist, too stunned, too broken open already, too ruined by the heavy tension that wraps around the room like a noose and then he's kissing you, messy and wet, so incredibly obscene. You whimper into his mouth when you taste it—Sunghoon's lingering arousal still coating Jake's tongue, thick and salty and wrong. You should pull away, shove him off and spit it out you don't because Jake is holding you there, mouth slanted over yours, his free hand cradling the back of your head so you can't escape the way the taste spreads and soaks into your own tongue and somewhere in the blurred confusion of it all, you realize you're kissing back and obeying when he pulls away and looks at you with those sharp eyes, telling you to swallow.

Your knees buckle, but Jake catches you easily, turning you towards Sunghoon. "You were such a good girl for me," he says under his breath, incongruous with the essence of him still coating your lips. "You'd be even better if you let Jake fuck you too." You glance up at him through a blink, stunned, teetering on the edge of sanity, knowing exactly what you should say.

No. No. No.

But it's like there's a part of your brain wired exclusively for him, for the soft cadence of his voice, the weight of his hand on the curve of your waist, the promise of his approval, so nod weak and trembling, before your mind even finishes forming the thought.

Jake grins, triumphant and he's moving immediately, not wasting a second, grabbing your hips and turning you around like you're just something to be positioned, something to be used. "You're going to let me fuck you? After all that mouthing off? Telling me to kill myself?" he taunts, "What was it she called me again, Hoon? Your guard dog?" he adds, running his hand down your back and pressing down so you're perfectly arched for him.

You can see Sunghoon sitting back against the headboard now, watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes. Jake's hands are rough as he spreads you open, humming low under his breath when he sees just how wet you still are. It's shameful, the way your body betrays you, throbbing and slick and eager.

"Fuck," Jake mutters, almost to himself, "Sunghoon really did break you in, huh?" You hear Sunghoon laugh, smug but you don't dare lift your head to look at him. You're too busy squeezing your eyes shut, fists curling tight in the sheets, bracing yourself for whatever's about to come.

And when it does come, when Jake finally pushes into you, it's so different, he's not as patient. He's rougher, filling you quick and deep, grunting under his breath when your body clenches down instinctively. "Still so tight," he breathes, reverent, like he can't fucking believe it. You whimper, your arms shaking, your body arching more without your permission, as he starts to move. Long, deep thrusts that make your back curve, your mouth fall open in helpless little gasps and all the while Sunghoon is watching.

In a silent possessive way, you can feel like a brand burning into your skin. You know you're not supposed to want this, you're not supposed to like the way Jake is fucking you, hard and fast and unrelenting while Sunghoon watches like you're putting on a show just for him.

Your body doesn't care, it's already chasing the next brutal, devastating high and Jake aids it, fucking you with sharp, brutal thrusts that knock little gasps and whines from your throat without mercy. Each snap of his hips punches forward into that spot inside you that feels too raw, the overstimulation crackling up your spine like electricity.

It's nothing like how Sunghoon fucked you. Where Sunghoon was calculated, almost teasing in the way he stretched you open, Jake feels like punishment, like he's trying to split you in half just because he can. His pace didn't slow once, not even when Sunghoon shifted closer, not even when the softest brush of lips pressed against your temple like a secret only you were supposed to feel. If anything, it got worse. Harder, deeper, like he was trying to fuck the kiss right off your skin.

And it was so stupid, it was so stupid, because your body betrayed you instantly, muscles clenching down around him so tight you felt it too, the way your walls tried to drag him deeper, how your toes curled and your back bowed like you were desperate for more.

Jake's laugh was low and rough against your ear, all teeth and mean amusement as he tightened his fingers around your waist. "She's fucking clenching. Just 'cause you kissed her," he taunted, and you wanted to say no, wanted to deny it, wanted to pretend you had any dignity left but it was impossible when Sunghoon's mouth was finding the corner of your lips now, slow and tender and unbearably sweet. "You're so pretty"

"Pathetic little thing," Jake cooed, voice dipped in false pity, "Sunghoon calls you pretty and you're already squeezing my cock like it's the first nice thing anyone's ever said to you." You whimpered, pressing your forehead to the mattress, trying to hide from them both, from the unbearable heat prickling under your skin. You could feel Sunghoon smiling against your cheek, soft and secretive, and when you cracked your eyes open, you caught it, that tiny, almost imperceptible look he passed to Jake. The faintest tilt of his mouth. Permission. Encouragement.

"Don't listen to him," Sunghoon murmured anyway, voice as soft as his kisses, pretending like he wasn't the one feeding the fire. His hand stroked lazily down your spine, light enough to make you shiver. "You're pretty. That's all that matters."

Pretty.

You could have cried.

You almost did.

Jake's laugh rumbled against your back as he thrust up into you again, hard enough to have you gasping, scrabbling uselessly at the sheets. "Such a good girl," Jake crooned mockingly, dragging the words out, slow and sticky like syrup. "All pretty and dumb for us."

Sunghoon just kept petting you, like you were something small and helpless. His fingers tracing your spine like he was counting your vertebrae, his mouth ghosting over your skin, and then he was murmuring almost absently, like he was thinking out loud, "So pretty like this. So pretty I almost feel bad."

You didn't even know who he was talking to—you, Jake, himself—it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way Jake's cock bullied into you without a hint of mercy, and the way Sunghoon looked at you like you were something sacred he was offering up to be ruined.

"Are you gonna fucking cum or what," Sunghoon muttered next, his voice a little rough around the edges, impatient, a glimpse of the colder boy underneath all the tenderness, "You never take this long with the other girls."

Jake barked a short laugh, snapped his hips forward once, hard enough to make you cry out. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "she's just a little too fucking sweet." You didn't know if he meant the way you tasted, the way you sounded, the way you looked sprawled out for them like you'd forgotten how to say no. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

You couldn't think straight anymore.

You couldn't do anything but clench and sob and ache for them, feel Jake's cock dragging in and out of you, feel Sunghoon's kisses ghosting over your skin, hear their low voices murmuring above you like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You heard it, heard it even through the messy sounds of Jake using you, even through the haze of your own breathless little cries and for a second everything inside you pulled tight.

Other girls.

He said it like it meant nothing. Like it was just some passing detail, a shrug of the shoulders, a fact you should already know but you didn't and in the haze of it all you almost didn't realize Sunghoon wasn't yours, maybe he was Jake's but one thing is sure though; you weren't the first girl they'd done this with.

Your throat worked uselessly, a desperate little sound clawing up before you could stop it and you hated it, hated that they would hear it, hated that it gave you away. "S-Sunghoon"

He turned to you, still petting you absentmindedly but you could feel the slight hesitation in his touch, the way his fingers paused just a little too long at the dip of your spine, as if considering whether he'd gone too far but he didn't apologize, he didn't even look sorry. He just leaned in closer, brushing his lips over your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your burning skin like he could stitch up the bleeding hurt with pretty words.

"You're better than them," he murmured, so quiet you almost thought you imagined it. "So much better, baby." You despised how easily you melted for him. Jake thrust particularly deep and you choked on a sob, "Oh my God! J-Jake!", hips jerking helplessly back against him, desperate for any kind of grounding. Your mind was a mess, a riot of shame and pleasure and need and you didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself together, you tongue was already dropping out of your mouth, making you drool.

Above you, Sunghoon just smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was pleased you were breaking because to him it was probably the whole point.

Jake groaned low in his chest when he finished, the sound rattling deep in his throat, but you barely heard it. You were already gone, gone somewhere far inside yourself, where you didn't have to feel the way Sunghoon was murmuring at Jake to "go ahead, finish inside," like it was just another order to be given. Where you didn't have to feel Jake's lazy satisfaction as he spilled inside you, one hand gripping your hip like he owned you, like he had some right to leave pieces of himself inside your body.

It hit you all at once, the whiplash of it, how went from being a virgin a week ago to this, spread out, used, letting boys who barely even liked you do whatever they wanted with you. The shame was so thick it tasted metallic in your mouth. You scrambled, struggling to move, your limbs trembling and slow. Jake was still inside you and you hated it, hated the hot sticky reminder of everything you'd let happen, hated him for still being there like he had every right.

You shoved at him, weak and clumsy but desperate enough that Jake gave a startled grunt and stumbled back, finally slipping free. You barely registered it. You were already trying to crawl off the bed, blind and panicked, desperate to get away before they could see the tears slipping hot and furious down your cheeks but before you could even swing your leg over the edge, Sunghoon's hand closed around your wrist.

Firm that it makes you halt, chest heaving, refusing to look at him, refusing to let him see how broken you were. You tugged weakly against his grip, but it was useless. He didn't say anything at first, just held you there, thumb brushing thoughtlessly against the inside of your wrist, as if soothing you. As if he thought he could soothe this.

You yanked at your wrist, the pathetic sound of your struggle filling the heavy room, Sunghoon didn't even flinch and his grip stayed firm, like he barely noticed how hard you were trying. He just stared at you, something strange and unreadable flickering in his dark eyes, his gazed held confusion, as though he couldn't understand why you were crying.

His gaze dragged over your face, the wetness on your cheeks, the trembling of your mouth, the way you could barely breathe around the panic squeezing your ribs and then he asked it, so casually you almost thought you imagined it.

"Why do you cry all the time?" Asking as if your tears were an inconvenience but it makes something inside you snap. You tore your wrist out of his grip with a violent jerk, your whole body swaying from the force of it, and you backed away so fast you stumbled over yourself. You didn't even care that you were still naked, still aching, still leaking down your thighs.

"I can't believe I did this," you choked out, voice cracking, the words coming in one ugly, messy rush. "You're both fucking weird. I can't believe I let you— I can't believe I—" but before you could finish, Jake's voice cut through the air, lazy and amused, like none of this meant anything to him. "You wanted it," he said, shrugging like it was obvious. "And from the way you were moaning for us? Pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

The shame burned hotter than ever, climbing your throat like bile. You wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor, wishing you had never met them, wishing you could scrub the memory of all of it off your skin. They weren't even trying to comfort you or apologize, they were just standing there, like you were the crazy one for thinking any of this was supposed to mean something more.

You flinched when Sunghoon moved toward you, every part of you braced to be mocked again, humiliated further but instead of laughing at you, instead of pushing you back onto the bed and telling you to take it like before, his hand came up, slow, almost unsure, and wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. The touch was awkward but gentle in a way that made your throat close up. He didn't know what he was doing, you could feel it in how clumsy he was, as if affection wasn't something he gave often, like he was terrified of getting it wrong.

Before you could form more thoughts, he was leaning in, mouth brushing yours so softly it barely even counted as a kiss, just a warm press, a quiet apology he didn't know how to speak. You made a sound, something broken and desperate in the back of your throat, and he caught it with his mouth, kissing you a little harder. "Don't cry again," he mumbled against your lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating him for making it worse, feeling sorry for yourself for leaning into him without even thinking.

Jake stood a few feet away, still shirtless, still burning from the inside out, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with something close to murder flashing in his eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore, the lazy, taunting smirk was gone, replace with something aimed at Sunghoon like he had just witnessed a betrayal, as though Sunghoon wasn't supposed to kiss you like that, wasn't supposed to wipe your tears or whisper anything that sounded even remotely like he cared.

Jake's jaw clenched, his fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting through the thin fabric of his shirt. It made your stomach twist, that look on his face, the look of boiling anger and ugly jealousy.

Because Sunghoon had never, not once, touched another girl like that and now he was wiping tears off your face like you were some delicate fucking thing worth saving.

Jake's hands curled into fists and stomach twisted. The anger was old, nothing new because it had been sitting in him for a long time—months, maybe.

It started at the party.

The girl, he couldn't even remember her name now but he remembered how she was giggling, clutching his arm, pressing her tits against him like she didn't know he wasn't the one she needed to impress. Jake led her through the crowd anyway, up the stairs, through the half-cracked door where Sunghoon stood against the wall sipping something dark from a cup.

"She's cute, right?" Jake said, grinning, jostling her forward a little. Sunghoon barely even looked at her before he tilted his head, caught her wrist in his hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, all while his eyes were on Jake, while his smile was directed at Jake.

It was mechanical, hollow even and Jake saw it even if no one else did. Sunghoon didn't even want her, he didn't want any of them, not really anyway. He just let Jake bring girls around because it was easier to use them than admit there was nothing either of them actually wanted. It was an arrangement, an easy and disposable arrangement.

Until you, Jake had felt it the day he saw you in Heeseung's apartment, you came over, looking so nervous you could barely meet his eyes. It was supposed to be a joke, flipping up your dress while you were trying to leave. Just to see if you'd cry, just to see if Sunghoon would even bother looking.

He did.

Jake caught it—the way Sunghoon's gaze went dark, sharp, almost hungry. He was the one who leaned over, under his breath, and whispered into Jake's ear. "I want her."

You.

Jake could still feel it, the way those words made something twist in his gut, made his palms itch to hit something. Sunghoon had never said that before. Not once, not even when Jake handpicked the prettiest, most desperate girls at every party but you, standing there like some little doll about to bolt for the door. You, who they hadn't even touched yet, you were the one Sunghoon wanted.

Jake ignored it, or he really tried to. He tried to brush it off, the same way he brushed off the weird sick feeling that climbed up his throat every time you looked shyly at Sunghoon instead of him.

But then the night came. The night Sunghoon was meant to fuck you, Jake was there in his room—had the door cracked open, waiting for Sunghoon to come to him.

It should've been routine, it always was, especially with the shy or naive girls and you were certainly naive, almost borderline oblivious in Jake's opinion. Sunghoon was meant to get you ready and Jake would join later if he felt like it, they'd use you up and that would be that. Instead, Sunghoon slipped out of the room, tight-jawed, tense and cornered Jake by the kitchen sink when he came to get you the water bottle. "She's a virgin," Sunghoon said low, eyes dark and unreadable. "We're not doing this tonight." Jake had laughed because it sounded like he was joking. "What, you scared or something?"

Sunghoon just stared at him. Something ugly, something furious flickering just beneath his skin. "I'm serious," he muttered, voice rough. "I'm not ruining it like this." Like this? Like it mattered?

Jake stood there, watching Sunghoon grab a bottle of water, stall for time, anything to calm down before he went back to you. It burned something inside Jake that he didn't even know he had, not jealousy, not really, it was something worse. Jake wanted to break something. Wanted to break him.

Sunghoon is still holding your waist, like you were his to protect, his fingers pressing deep enough to bruise, yet there's a softness to his grip. He's staring at you like he doesn't understand what's wrong, his eyes searching yours like he can make sense of everything. But he can't. He won't. His breath brushes against your ear as he whispers, "Stay."

It's quiet. Almost too quiet.

Your chest tightens, the words hanging in the air like a weight you can't shake off. You feel the tears welling again, the ache in your throat, the rawness of everything you've just experienced. This wasn't supposed to be you. You weren't supposed to be here.

But you're still here. Still in Sunghoon's room. Still caught between the chaos of two boys who have never looked at you like you were anything other than a game. The thought nearly breaks you, but you keep your head tilted away from Sunghoon's searching gaze, eyes trained on the floor.

That's when Jake's voice cuts through the silence.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon," he sneers, his voice thick with mockery. "She's a free use toy now, remember?"

The words hit harder than anything physical. Sunghoon's face tightens, a flicker of anger flashing across his features for the first time. This is the first time, in all the years of living with Jake, that Sunghoon's ever asked a girl to stay in his room. He never needed to. The others, they always left when the night was over, like it was just part of the script. But with you... he's different. He wants you here. Wants you more than he's willing to admit.

And Jake knows that. He knows it, and he sees the change in Sunghoon, the shift that makes everything spiral out of control.

Sunghoon tenses, his grip on your waist tightening, but it's not to keep you close anymore. It's like a warning, a subtle shift, like he's trying to hold onto something that's slipping through his fingers.

"You don't know shit about her, Jake," Sunghoon spits, voice low, dangerous. But there's a tightness in his chest, the kind that tells you this isn't just about you anymore. This is personal.

Jake laughs, the sound cruel and mocking. "I know enough. You're just fucking delusional, man. She's never gonna be anything but a toy, something to fuck when you need it."

And that's when everything breaks. That's when the jealousy and the anger in Jake's eyes finally win out. He's seething, and there's something darker in him now, something that twists his features into a snarl.

"You think she's different?" Jake's voice rises, thick with bitter disbelief. "You think she's special? She's just a body, Sunghoon. You're no different from me."

Sunghoon doesn't even think. His fist is already flying toward Jake's face before the words are fully out of his mouth.

The sickening crack of Sunghoon's punch echoes through the room. Jake stumbles back, a flash of shock before he's charging again, but this time, Sunghoon's ready. They clash together, their bodies colliding with a force that shakes the room, like they're trying to tear each other apart with their bare hands. You watch, heart pounding in your chest, unable to move.

Jake doesn't care. His gaze is locked on Sunghoon, furious and burning, but there's something else there. Something ugly. It's like he's mad at the whole world. Mad that Sunghoon is breaking the rules, mad that he's treating you differently, and mad that he can't have you like he thought he would.

"You fucking hypocrite," Jake spits, shoving Sunghoon hard enough that he almost knocks you over with him. "You think you're better than me? You fucked her first. You let me fuck her too. Don't act like you're some fucking savior now."

Sunghoon's fist lands again, and this time, the sound of the punch is more brutal, sharper. The room stills for a moment. Everything quiets.

And then Jake stares up at him, blood dripping from him his split lip, his expression twisting into something almost unrecognizable.

"You're not special either, Sunghoon. She'll never choose you."

And that's when the weight of it hits you. Both of them are broken. Both of them have pushed you to this point. But the one you can't seem to tear your eyes away from, the one who's been different with you, is Sunghoon. It's always been him, hasn't it? Even though everything's a mess, even though your mind tells you to run, your body aches for the one who's holding you in place.

But this fight, this ugly confrontation, it feels like the breaking point. Both of them, tearing each other down, just to try and prove something to you. And you don't know how much longer you can stand it.

Jake slammed the apartment door so hard the hallway lights flickered. His chest heaved like he'd run a marathon, every breath sharp and unsteady, and his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. Sunghoon's words were still ringing in his ears. His fists still burned from the impact.

And you? You were still in that room, still with Sunghoon. The echo of it made something cave inside him and he wasn't sure if it was the punch or the shame that hit hardest. It hadn't always been like this.

Two months ago, that was when Heeseung brought you around for the first time. Introduced you casually at a birthday party as his girlfriend's cousin. Jake barely remembered whose birthday it was because the moment he saw you, you eclipsed everything. Not because you were trying to. No, you didn't even speak much that night. Just nodded politely, murmured a hello. It was your eyes that did it—too soft, too open, too easy to read. He saw the way you looked at the floor more than at anyone else, how your hands fidgeted with the strap of your bag.

You didn't belong in their world of sharp words and sharper games and maybe that's exactly why he wanted you. He told himself it wasn't serious, just a passing thing. You were pretty, sure. Innocent too but surely not his type. Except he caught himself watching you, noticing you, even wondering about you but then you had to go and ruin it—by looking at Sunghoon.

He hadn't even looked at you that night, he barely nodded in acknowledgment, said something offhanded to Heeseung about you being "quiet." Sunghoon didn't see you at all but you saw him and Jake saw you.

Staring.

It was in the little glances, the way you perked up just slightly when Sunghoon's voice cut into the room. The way you didn't blink when he walked past, as though you could memorize his silhouette if you tried hard enough. Jake had watched you the whole time, watched you light up for someone who never even looked your way and it made something petty and jealous unravel in him.

He approached you that night of the art show just to tell you, you were too plain for Sunghoon, he said like a warning but it came out more like a challenge. He saw your lips part, saw the brief hurt in your eyes before you turned away.

That was the beginning.

It became a game, or that's what he told himself. Teasing you at parties, mocking the way you watched Sunghoon like he hung the fucking moon. A part of him thought that if he made you feel small enough, you'd stop looking at Sunghoon like that, maybe you'd look at him instead, maybe he could rewrite the script if he could just make you flinch enough to forget what you wanted.

Then one night, after too many drinks, Sunghoon admitted it. "She's cute." Just those two words, offhanded, they barely even meant anything but Jake saw it. The way Sunghoon had been looking at you lately—less like he didn't notice and more like he didn't know what to do with the noticing.

It hit Jake like ice water before Sunghoon even whispered it in his ear that day at Heeseung's apartment, Sunghoon wanted you and you had always wanted him, so where did that leave Jake? He didn't even know who he was jealous of anymore. You, for getting Sunghoon's attention? Sunghoon, for having yours? Or himself—for turning something tender into something so vile?

Maybe that's why he let it happen tonight. Why he hadn't walked away the moment he saw you under Sunghoon like that. Why he'd joined in, touched you like he had any right, kissed you just to claim a piece of something that was never his but none of it made the ache go away, in fact it only made it worse.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon. She's a free use toy now, remember?"

He'd said it because he was furious, he needed to get under Sunghoon's skin because to him it was easier than admitting the truth; he still wanted you and not just your body and not just tonight but when Sunghoon looked at you like that—held your waist, whispered soft things into your skin, kissed your tears away—it gutted Jake.

Sunghoon had never asked a girl to stay, not even once, not even the girls that had way more experience than you and now he was asking you.

Jake punched the wall as he reached the bottom of the apartment stairwell, breathless. His hand split open against the drywall. Still, the pain didn't come close to what was boiling in his chest because the truth was, he never stopped wanting you and now he might've lost you forever along with his best friend.

Back in the apartment, the room still smelled like sweat and anger and something unspoken, thick in the air, clinging to your skin like shame. Sunghoon's touch was gentle this time, he didn't say much as he led you toward the bathroom, one hand lingering low on your back, the other steadying your wrist where his fingers had left slight red marks earlier. You were too quiet to fight him on it, too tired to explain the weight sitting in your chest like wet cloth.

The warm water hit your skin and it felt too good, too soft, like maybe you didn't deserve it. Sunghoon didn't rush. He moved like he'd done this before, washing over you with careful fingers, rubbing suds into your arms, your thighs, behind your ears like he was memorizing the shape of you with every glide. He kissed your shoulder once. Then your temple. Then your mouth. Quick, gentle intervals like he was testing if you'd still let him.

You did.

He didn't speak until he was drying you off, voice low, half-rasped. "Lift your arms." You obeyed. Not because you were weak but because for once, it felt safe to surrender. He slipped a soft shirt over your head, long enough to brush your thighs. It smelled like detergent and cologne and him. You could get drunk off the scent alone. Your legs wobbled as you stepped into clean pair of his shorts and he caught you without a word. He tucked you in like he hadn't just broken you down hours ago. Covered you up to your chin, smoothed the damp strands from your face, lingered a little longer than he meant to. His gaze was unreadable—something suspended between guilt and awe.

"I'll be back," he murmured, like he was worried you'd vanish if he didn't say it aloud.

The sound of the shower running again was the only thing that lulled you close to sleep. You didn't hear him come back in. You just felt the bed dip and the warmth of his body sliding in behind yours, arms looping slow around your waist, chest pressing to your back like he needed to feel you breathing to believe this was real.

He nuzzled against your hair. "Come here," he whispered and he pulled you into him like you belonged there, like he hadn't just chosen you in front of Jake, like maybe he always had.

*•*•*

Jake hadn't been back to the apartment in three days. He'd spent them mostly on Heeseung's couch, pretending to watch TV, pretending he wasn't thinking about you every second he blinked. He didn't say much and Heeseung didn't ask, that was the thing about old friendships—they left space where words couldn't go.

When he came back, the apartment felt the same but emptier, he told himself he wasn't looking for signs of you but the disappointment in his chest when he didn't find any told the truth.

You're gone.

He heard the door to Sunghoon's room click open not long after. He didn't have to turn around to know it was him. They stood in the kitchen like strangers. Jake's knuckles itched with memory, so did his ribs but his voice didn't shake when he finally spoke.

"She left."

Sunghoon didn't deny it. "She needed space."

Jake almost scoffed. "From you too?" Sunghoon looked at him, and there was something devastating in the softness of it. "From the both of us."

A beat passed. Then another.

"You know why you're this angry?" Sunghoon said, his tone level. "It's not because I touched her. It's not even because she let me. It's because you wanted to be the one."

Jake's fists curled before he could stop them.

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," Sunghoon cut in, unshaken. "You were just too scared to be anything other than cruel."

Jake's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He couldn't argue—not really. Not when Sunghoon looked at him like he already knew, not when he didn't even have to say it. There was a shift, almost invisible. A flash of something in Jake's eyes, something like grief or longing. It passed too quickly for anyone else to notice but Sunghoon saw it and maybe that's why, as he turned away, he said, "She's at her place."

Jake swallowed. "Why are you telling me?"

Sunghoon didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

*•*•*

The stairs felt longer than usual or maybe Jake was just nervous regardless of the five days it took him to gather the courage to show up here. His legs didn't feel steady, not when he reached the third floor. Not when he raised a hand to knock on your door. His heart wasn't racing—it was free-falling.

He almost turned around but then the door opened and you were laughing.

It wasn't a sound he'd heard ever, it was soft, light, the kind of thing that came from somewhere safe. You were mid-laugh, leaning slightly into the doorframe, probably reacting to something Yunjin said behind you. Her voice floated out from the living room. Jake barely registered it.

Because then you saw him and everything about you changed. Your smile dropped like glass slipping from a ledge. You didn't say anything but your face said enough, the laughter hadn't just faded, it had recoiled almost like you were scared, like seeing him reopened something you'd tried to bury.

Jake felt it in his chest, low and sudden and still, he didn't speak because how could he? He had no right to be hurt, not after what he did, not after everything he'd been. Still, he stood there, holding his breath, waiting to be let in.

"Can I talk to you?"

Jake's voice was soft even careful like he wasn't sure if he deserved the words he was speaking. Yunjin was at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the doorway with one brow raised, a hand coming instinctively to your elbow. "She doesn't owe you anything," she said, her tone sharp but calm. "So if you're here to play whatever game you were playing before—"

"It's okay," you said, cutting in quietly. Yunjin looked at you, frown deepening. "You sure?" You nodded. "Just give me a minute."

There was something in Jake's eyes, something raw and unguarded and even if your brain was screaming to slam the door, your heart—traitorous and trembling—wanted to know what he had to say.

You stepped out, closing the door gently behind you, and followed him into the empty hallway.

Jake didn't speak right away.

You could see it—the way his throat worked, how his eyes flicked to the floor and then back to you, like he was sorting through a thousand things he could say and none of them felt right.

Then, finally, "I'm sorry."

It was plain, simples and unpolished, it had you blinking. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, firmer this time. "For everything. For how I treated you. For flipping your skirt up in front of everyone. For saying shit that made you feel—less than." His breath caught slightly. "I'm even sorry for fucking you like that. And calling you—"

You cut in before he could finish. "A free use toy?"

He flinched. "Yeah. That."

Your arms crossed over your chest, suddenly cold. "Are you only saying this because you and Sunghoon want to fuck me again?"

Jake's eyes widened. "No. No. God, no. That's not—I'm not—" His words tumbled, frantic. "I'm not here because of that. I'm here because I have to tell you. I have to tell you that I liked you first."

Silence blanketed the hall.

Jake took a breath and stepped closer, gaze never leaving yours. "That day Heeseung introduced you, when he said you were his girlfriend's cousin, Sunghoon didn't even look at you. But I did. I couldn't stop looking at you. You were so—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "And then you were looking at him. Always. Like he was everything." His voice cracked on that last word.

You didn't move.

He ran a hand through his hair, voice lower now. "I didn't know how to handle it. I just— I hated that you never looked at me the way you looked at him. And it made me cruel. I know that. I know I was an asshole. But I swear to god I was only ever like that because I didn't know how else to deal with it."

You stared at him, stunned into silence, noticing how his eyes were glassy like he was begging himself not to cry and maybe for the first time, you saw him. Not as the boy who teased you mercilessly, not as the one who touched you like you were nothing but as the one who was unraveling in front of you—afraid, desperate, honest. He huffed out a breath before continuing, "I know you think I'm just awful and that Sunghoon doesn't have feelings but he does and—" "I—I promise I'll be better and he will too, just come over please." "There's so much we want to tell you" he sighed the last part like he was using the last of his energy to say it.

That was the last thing he said before he left you standing there and you don't remember agreeing, not really. It's all a blur—Jake's quiet voice on the stairwell, the look in his eyes like he was begging without asking, the way he said please, the way he mentioned Sunghoon like the words had weight in his throat.

Maybe that's why you're here, maybe it's closure, maybe it's not.

The apartment is quiet when you knock but the second the door opens, you feel a pair arms around you. "You didn't cry again, did you?" Sunghoon's voice murmurs into your hair, soft and close.

You shake your head. No, you didn't, not this time. His scent is familiar, clean soap and something warm underneath. He lingers a second too long before he steps aside and that's when you see him—Jake, standing by the kitchen counter like he's unsure whether to stay or disappear. His expression flickers when your eyes meet, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, you used to think his stare meant mockery but now it's something else. It's waiting, even hoping.

The silence stretches and you feel like you should say something. Sunghoon glances between you two like he's used to translating tension. "We talked," he says, mostly to you. "Jake wanted to say sorry. Properly this time." You nod because right now it's all you can do.

"Can I...?" Jake's voice trails off. He gestures awkwardly toward the couch, like he's asking for permission just to sit near you. He's never been this quiet before, never this cautious.

He settles beside you with careful space between your knees. The silence isn't comfortable, but it's not hostile either, just dense with everything unspoken.

Jake speaks first, the words low and halting. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that. Any of it. I was—" He stops, jaw tightening. "I guess I didn't know who I was mad at. You. Him. Myself." Sunghoon stays leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange unfold like it's something he can't touch just yet. Jake  glances at you. "You don't have to forgive me. I just... I didn't want it to end like that."

The part of you that once trembled under his cruelty now twitches at his vulnerability, you're not sure when that shifted. Somewhere between the teasing, the way he flung ugly words like armor, and the raw admission in his stare now—something changed.

Maybe you did want him, not like before, not in spite of the way he hurt you but because somewhere beneath the mess, something inside him looked like it had been reaching for you all along.

"You're not as mean as you think you are," you say quietly. Jake huffs a breath that sounds like he might cry if he lets it finish and it has you reaching for him rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you're not entirely surprised that he's leaning into your palm.

You don't know who moves first, only that the space closes and his lips are on yours now, frantic and almost clumsy, his hands find your waist and trail up to your back before he's pulling at your hair so your neck is exposed to him. He pulls away and his forehead presses against yours, Sunghoon is behind you again, kneeling on the couch and sliding a hand along your back like he's grounding you in the moment.

"You sure you want this?" Sunghoon murmurs. You nod, barely but he sees it. Jake sees it. The air shifts and you all somehow manage to make it to Sunghoon's bedroom. Their hands are everywhere, their lips too, kissing, biting, marking, Jake's hands are tugging at your clothes like they personally offended him, Sunghoon is kissing you like today is his last day on earth. He pulls off you placing kisses to your cheeks before speaking, "Come on, let Jake show you how sorry he is" he says as back away, you look to Jake and he seems to want it more than you realize. "Okay".

That was all it took for him to pull down the denim of your shorts along with your panties, staring at you between you legs like he was looking at art, "So pretty, so wet for us" he mumbles, placing kisses to your inner thighs. "Don't tease her, Jake. Do as she says", Sunghoon's voice rings through the room and it makes Jake look up at you like he's waiting for your command, the look has your breath stuttering before you say, quietly but firmly, "Eat my pussy".

Jake must have been on voice command because he immediately starts eating you out. You whimper, back arching as he leans in, licking up your folds with a deep moan like he's lost his mind.

"Fuck—Jake—"

His tongue is everywhere—sloppy, relentless, devouring you like you're dessert and he's starving and you're grinding against his face before you can help it, hand in his hair, breathy moans spilling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs were already trembling but Jake wasn't slowing down, you looked up from his to see Sunghoon smiling down at you and it makes you moan out more, "Oh my god!"

If anything, Jake is more determined now—tongue working your clit with maddening precision, fingers spreading you open so he could taste you deeper, wetter, messier, like he's trying to pull those sounds from you. You tried to push him away—not because you wanted to stop, but because it was too much, too good but Jake just growled low and gripped your hips tighter, dragging you back to his mouth like he'd die without it.

And then, slowly, finally, he pulled back—lips and chin glistening. Your breath hitched at the sight, he looked wrecked. Hair a mess. Eyes dark and blown wide with hunger. "She didn't ask you to stop, did she?" You look up at Sunghoon as he spoke, just now noticing that he's taken his cock out, it's hard, red and leaking as he palms himself while looking right at you.

Jake look at you and then back at Sunghoon and Sunghoon comes up behind him where he is, "Go on baby, tell him what to do. Use him" he says to you but you can't really speak so instead you grab Jake's hair and pull him back where you're aching for them both.

Behind him, Sunghoon watches, calm and in control, one hand fisted in Jake's hair as if to keep him there. The warm flick of his tongue makes you jolt, your hand gripping the sheets. Jake moans into you, desperate, like he's trying to earn your forgiveness with every swirl of his tongue. You almost don't notice Sunghoon has pulled Jake up on his knees and now has Jake's shorts and boxers down to his knees where they meet the sheets. Sunghoon looks down at Jake where his back is involuntarily arched with lust filled eyes and the sight of him spitting a dollop of saliva right onto Jake's hole has you gasping, "Sunghoon" you gasp out and he looks at you with a smirk, you look down at Jake and notice his eyes rolling back, you can't tell if it's because of how you taste or because of Sunghoon's index and middle fingers that are now pushed into him.

Jake is still trying his best, his tongue is fucking your hole so good you're trembling but then suddenly he's crying out and you see that Sunghoon has pushed his whole length into him at once and it makes Jake choke on a gasp against your pussy.

"You're losing rhythm," Sunghoon murmurs, dragging his hips back before pausing. His voice is low. "Don't you want to show her how sorry you are?"

Jake whimpers, nodding frantically, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" his lips returning to you with renewed effort—tongue trembling, breath shaking. You arch, overwhelmed at the way he's trying so hard for you. For both of you.

And it's working.

Your thighs close around his head, your moans tangling with Jake's soft cries as Sunghoon keeps rocking into him. The way Jake's mouth moves on you—messy, reverent, aching—pulls you closer and closer until you're gasping his name, your fingers tangled in his hair as you finally finish against his tongue.

Jake groans, muffled by your release, clinging to your thighs like they're the only thing keeping him grounded but then he starts moving again—this time, back against Sunghoon. "Fuck," Sunghoon hisses, voice strained as Jake starts to push back harder. "So desperate to be fucked now, huh?"

You slide forward, cupping Jake's flushed face, and he looks up at you with wide, watery eyes. Your thumb brushes away a tear rolling down his cheek. "Pretty boy," you murmur, kissing his cheek, then the other. "You're so pretty like this." The moment your voice breaks through him, his eyes widen, lips parting in a shaky moan, just like Sunghoon once did to you—Jake clenches down hard around him, the shock drawing a ragged groan from Sunghoon. Sunghoon chuckles breathlessly, eyes flashing. "Oh, now that's familiar. You remember that, sweetheart?" he says to you.

You do remember and now it's Jake—whimpering, trembling, taking it. You trail your hand down Jake's trembling stomach and wrap your fingers around his cock, already dripping. He jerks in your hand, keening, hips stuttering as you start stroking him in time with Sunghoon's thrusts.

"Oh, fuck," Jake cries. "Please—please—"

"Look at you," you coo. "Falling apart just like me." "All that anger, you're just a fucking brat huh?" you ask and he shakes his head furiously. "I—I'm not!", you keep stroking him, speeding up your movements.

Sunghoon growls behind Jake, watching your hand work him while Jake chokes on a sob and fucks himself harder on Sunghoon's cock. "K—Kiss" he whimpers, "Aww, you want a kiss baby?" Sunghoon coos but Jake can only respond with incoherent babbles now. You lean down and kiss him but that means you neglect his aching cock, when he pulls away just to moan out, you go back to stroking him.

Jake lets out a wrecked, high-pitched moan, body trembling as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock again . He nearly collapses.

"Please—please, I'm gonna—"

You stroke him slowly, watching the way his body bucks into your fist and back onto Sunghoon's cock in perfect rhythm. He's whining, shameless and loud, hips jerking. Every time you squeeze, he moans louder.

Sunghoon grits his teeth. "Good fucking girl," he growls to you, fucking Jake harder. "He's gonna cum just like this—such a fucking mess."

Jake's the first to break. He sobs your name as he spills all over your hand, body curling in on itself. The clenching sends Sunghoon over the edge with a groan, and he pulls Jake close, hips stuttering as he finishes inside him.

And then, silence. Just heaving breaths, sweaty skin, bodies tangled together on the sheets.

Jake collapses against your chest, still gasping, and you stroke his hair without thinking. Sunghoon lays beside him, one arm thrown lazily over his waist.

For a moment, it's quiet.

Then Jake speaks,  "You think Heeseung would be mad we fucked his girlfriend's little cousin?"

You blink. "I'm older than Yunjin."

They both whip their heads toward you.

"No fucking way," they say in perfect unison and somehow, that's the moment you realize you're probably not getting rid of either of them anytime soon.

══════════════════════════

[darlingsblackbook]

Zayne x Crush-Ridden Nurse!Reader | Part Two

Just who is this woman who seems to be so close to ( your ) Dr. Zayne. It's time to investigate!

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | You casually asked MC what she does for work. She looked you dead in the eye and said, “I hunt nightmares.”

You blinked. She blinked.

Zayne walked by and said, “She’s not exaggerating.”

You went on break and googled “how to sedate yourself, respectfully.”

II | You tried to joke with MC: “So, you and Dr. Zayne… old friends?”

She raised a brow. “Define ‘old.’ Define ‘friends.’”

You laughed.

She didn’t.

So now you don’t either.

III | You brought MC a cup of tea once when she was in Zayne's office just to be nice - not to spy on what they were doing or anything

She sniffed it and said, “This isn’t poisoned, right?”

You panicked and immediately said, “I’d never!”

Zayne, without looking up: “Don’t be dramatic.”

You: “Who, me or her?”

Both ignored you.

IV | You asked, “So… how’d you two meet?”

MC shrugged. “Blood, mostly.”

You nodded like that made sense.

You immediately went home and journaled about it under “???”

V | You complimented MC’s coat.

She said, “Thanks. Got it off a guy who didn’t need it anymore.”

You nodded with a smile, "Ah, thrifted!”

She just winked.

You didn’t sleep that night.

VI | You awkwardly lingered near Zayne and MC during a conversation.

MC said, “Do you need something?”

You said, “No, no! Just… standing. Nurse stuff.”

Zayne: “You’re holding a stapler.”

You looked down. You were.

VII | You asked MC if she’d ever needed stitches.

She said, “Not from Zayne.”

You: Oh?

Zayne: “She does her own.”

You: Oh!

VIII | You tried to be relatable: “Being patched up must suck, right?”

MC: “Pain is temporary.”

You: “Haha yeah, like crushing heartbreak!”

MC stared.

You stared.

Zayne walked by.

IX | You tried to bond with MC over music.

You asked what she listens to.

She said, “The kind that makes you question your mortality.”

You said, “Cool! I like Lana Del Rey!”

XI | You said, “Doctor Zayne doesn’t talk much, huh?”

MC said, “He talks to me.”

You just said “Right” and stared out a window for forty-five minutes.

XII | You tried to joke, “Bet he’s fun at parties.”

MC: “He is. Surprisingly.”

You: “…Oh.”

Zayne walked by and said, “She once made me dance.”

You dropped your pen. Your soul. Your sense of hope.

XIII | You offered MC a hospital map.

She said, “I’ve been here more than you.”

"Okay!"

XIV | You said, “It must be nice, having someone like Zayne look after you.”

MC said, “He doesn’t look after me.”

Zayne (walking in): “She looks after herself.”

You: 😐

XV | You asked MC if she and Zayne were a thing.

She said, “What kind of thing?”

You panicked and said, “Like, objects!”

She said, “Then yes.”

You walked into a wall.

XVI | You complimented MC’s boots.

She said, “Thanks. They’ve stepped on several monsters.”

You said, “Mine are orthopedic.”

She nodded. “Powerful.”

XVII | You asked if she’s always this mysterious.

She said, “Only when I’m being watched.”

You tried to laugh but accidentally choked on your own spit.

Zayne handed you water without looking.

You dropped it.

XVIII | You saw MC sleeping in Zayne’s office once.

You stared for a full minute.

Zayne noticed.

He said, “Do you need something?”

You said, “Nope. Just admiring the… furniture.”

XIX | You asked MC if she ever gets scared doing her “job.”

She said, “Only of one thing.”

You leaned in. “What?”

Zayne walked in. She said, “Never mind.”

You’ve never known peace.

XX | You once asked her, “Are you two… serious?”.

She said, “Why, are you interested?”

You blacked out for six seconds.

XXI | MC called Zayne “Doc.”You usually just call him “Doctor Zayne." You tried “Doc” once. He blinked.

You panicked and said, “Dock-ter. Like… port dock. Boats.”

Silence.

He said, “Are you okay?”

XXII | You caught Zayne stitching up MC without gloves. Your training screamed internally. You opened your mouth to say something. MC said, “We’ve shared worse.” You shut your mouth.

Forever.

XXIII | You once tripped over your own foot trying to spy on them mid-conversation- again. MC said, “Graceful.” Zayne just kept talking. You played dead.

XXIV | MC leaned against Zayne’s desk like she owned it. You once asked to borrow his pen. He stared at you until you apologized and gave it back.

XXV | You found a random jacket in Zayne’s office.

You said, “Is this yours?”

He said, “No.”

MC walked in five seconds later and grabbed it.

You watched her walk out and said, “Cool! Love that for me!"

All Rights Reserved © 2025 DarlingsBlackBook

Taglist : @sylusgirlie7 @jeonjenny @notsurewhattocallthisblog888 @draftbeerbibi @weebinator01 @satorustorm @asilaydead @ninaandtuna

[ahqkas]

♯ WOMANIZER ( you misunderstand the batboys’ intentions about you ! )

— fem!reader, bruce & dick & jason ( separated ), cursing, i believe in the imperfection of dick grayson, based on this req.!!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

THE PARTY AT WAYNE MANOR WAS ALREADY WELL UNDERWAY, with the gotham’s most privileged citizens mingling in perfect suits and ethereal gowns that sparkled like they held all the stars in the universe. you didn’t really belong here. or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood near the edge of the balcony, nursing a glass of champagne and pretending you weren’t keeping an eye on the man who seemed to command attention wherever he went.

bruce wayne. gotham’s billionaire playboy. philanthropist. occasional heartbreaker. you’d known him for a while, though you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. he had a knack for being charming in a way that left people breathless, and you? you’d seen through it. or at least, you thought you had.

when he’d started showing interest in you—lingering glances, invitations to these kinds of events that were hosted by him, casual but warm conversation—you’d dismissed it with a wave of your hand and a gentle no, thank you. bruce wayne didn’t date women like you. he charmed them, maybe took them to dinner once or twice and to warm the cold side of his bed, and then moved on to the next glittering distraction. that’s what you’d always assumed about him, and it didn’t help that you were acquainted with one of his exes, a woman who had once rolled her eyes and described him as a man who “likes the chase more than the catch.”

so when bruce’s eyes found yours from across the room tonight, you bristled. it was hard not to notice the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his smile seemed smaller, less performative and more genuine, when it was directed your way. but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all part of his game. was this just bruce wayne being bruce wayne, setting his sights on some pretty bird for the thrill of it? or was there more to it?

as the night went on, the man found his moment. you were standing near the balcony doors, half-hidden from the crowd, when his smooth voice broke through your thoughts.

“enjoying the party?”

you turned to find him standing a little closer than you’d expected, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, the rich fabric complementing his broad shoulders and easy confidence. he looked effortlessly polished, as always, every detail of his appearance considered, from the subtle sheen of his shoes to the faintest trace of cologne that lingered in the space between you. but tonight, there was something different about him, something in his expression that caught you off guard. his stormy blue eyes, always so guarded, seemed uncharacteristically open, revealing an earnestness that made your breath hitch. and there, just beneath the surface, was a vulnerability he didn’t often let slip, like he was holding his heart out to you, unsure if you’d take it or walk away.

“it’s fine,” you replied, the words carrying a certain amount politeness as you swirled the champagne flute in your hand. the golden bubbles rose to the surface, catching the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. you took a measured sip and the crispness of the drink did little to soothe the edge in your tone. “not really my scene, though.”

he chuckled softly. “i had a feeling you might say that.”

“then why invite me?” The question came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t back down. you’d spent too much time wondering what exactly a man like bruce wayne wanted from you, and tonight you were in no mood to dance around it.

bruce blinked, clearly caught off guard. “i thought—” he hesitated, the usual composure faltering ever so slightly. “i wanted you here.”

“for what?” you pressed, your voice dipping lower, but it carried the sharpness of a blade meant to cut through his carefully built walls. “to add to the collection? to say you’ve charmed another woman into falling for you?”

the words hung between you, heavy and biting, and you could see the faint flicker of hurt that flashed in his eyes before he masked it. still, you didn’t back down. you’d seen this thing before—the effortless charm, the disarming smiles, the way he made women feel special, if only for a moment. you weren’t going to be another one of those fleeting moments, another name whispered in hushed gossip about gotham’s most privileged golden boy. the weight of your words wasn’t just meant to confront him; it was a shield for yourself, a barrier you put up to keep your heart out of reach of someone who could crush it without even meaning to.

but bruce wayne didn’t flinch. instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“that’s not what this is,” he said quietly with his voice steady but threaded with softness. there was no defensiveness in his tone, no quick quip to deflect or charm his way out of the accusation. he didn’t puff up his chest or offer a rehearsed explanation to save his pride. there was no trace of the man who usually walked through conversations with the ease of someone who always knew the right thing to say.

instead, it was just bruce.

you crossed your arms at your chest, your guard still firmly in place. “forgive me if i find that hard to believe. i know your reputation, and i know you don’t exactly have a track record of . . . consistency.”

the man let out a long sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair and glancing away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts before he let them out for you to hear. when he looked back at you, his expression was different—softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

“i know what people think of me. but that’s not who i am with you. you . . . you’re not just some passing interest to me. i don’t know how else to say it, but i care about you. more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

his words caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you searched his face for any sign of deceit, any trace of the playboy side of him you’d come to associate with him. but all you saw was sincerity. it terrified you as much as it made your heart ache.

“you don’t have to believe me,” he added, his voice quieter now. “but i’ll prove it to you, if you let me.”

the vulnerability in his eyes was so raw, so uncharacteristic of the man you thought you knew, that you couldn’t help but feel a crack form in the wall you’d built around yourself. maybe he really meant it. maybe this wasn’t just a game to him. you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. instead, you let your gaze linger on him for a moment longer, trying to piece together the man in front of you with the one you thought you’d figured out. and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you’d been wrong about bruce wayne.

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

DICK GRAYSON WASN’T USED TO BEING MISJUDGED. sure, people sometimes underestimated him—wrote him off as just another pretty face, a charmer with a disarming smile and nothing deeper behind it—but he always found a way to prove them wrong. except when it came to you.

you, with your sharp wit and guarded heart. you’d known him long enough to see past his dazzling exterior, but you also had your assumptions about him, shaped by things you’d heard and what you thought you’d observed. you’d seen him with kory, with barbara, with women who seemed to flock to him effortlessly. to you, he seemed like someone who loved the chase more than the catch, someone who couldn’t sit still long enough to really, truly care. and that’s where the problem began.

it started with a rumor. one of your friends—a casual acquaintance of dick’s—had mentioned his “reputation” in passing, how he’d always been the heartbreaker of gotham’s streets. you’d smiled politely and brushed it off, but on the inside, your walls had risen. and then there were the times you’d seen him turn on the charm with women at galas or events, the way they seemed to melt under his intense gaze. it didn’t help that you were certain he could have anyone he wanted.

when dick started paying more attention to you, your first instinct was suspicion. he’d never been anything but kind, but now, his kindness seemed . . . targeted. personal. he asked about your day, remembered small details you’d mentioned weeks ago, found ways to cross your path more often than felt coincidental. he’d even shown up at your workplace once with a bag of takeout, claiming he was “just in the neighborhood,” though you were sure that wasn’t true. it was flattering and sweet, sure, but it also made you wary. he’d been like this with others before, hadn’t he?

“let me guess,” you said one day, crossing your arms as he caught up with you after a late-night outing with mutual friends. “you’re just doing this for fun, right? another notch on the great dick grayson belt?”

the words stung more than you expected. they slipped out before you could stop them, a mixture of your own insecurities and the walls you’d carefully constructed around your bleeding heart to protect yourself. dick froze mid-step, his easygoing smile faltering for the first time.

“what?”

“you don’t have to play dumb,” you continued, keeping your tone casual, though the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “i’m not one of those girls who’s going to fall for the charming guy.” you gestured vaguely towards him, your hands betraying your nerves as much as your words. “i mean, i’ve seen it all before. the sweet smile, the compliments that sound so personal but somehow aren’t. you’ve got a whole thing, dick. it’s practically a brand.” shifting your weight, your eyes darted away from his for a second before locking back in. “i’ve seen it with kory. with barbara. probably with whoever else came before or after. you walk in, sweep them off their feet with your ‘i’m just a nice guy with perfect hair and a killer backflip’ act, and then . . . i don’t know. you move on. it’s just what you do, isn’t it?”

the words spilled out faster than you could stop them, a mix of defensive sarcasm and the tiniest sliver of insecurity you hated admitting was there. the way his expression shifted, the way his easygoing demeanor cracked, told you you’d struck deeper than you intended—but you couldn’t back down now. not when your heart was hammering against the bones of your ribs, reminding you of all the reasons you’d kept him at arm’s length.

dick blinked, as if you’d just slapped him. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say. the hurt in his eyes was almost enough to make you regret your words, but you stood firm, heart pounding.

“i . . . wow,” he finally said, running a hand through his dark locks. the tone of his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it, stripped of the usual warmth and charm that seemed to come so effortlessly to him. his hand lingered at the back of his neck, fingers pressing into the tension there, like he was trying to ground himself. “that’s what you think of me?” he repeated. his blue eyes, normally so lively and teasing, searched yours for some kind of explanation, some hint that you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. but there was no teasing now, no easy smile to smooth over the rough edges of your words.

for once, dick grayson—always so confident, so sure of himself—seemed completely thrown, like you’d hit a nerve he didn’t even know existed.

in truth, the man was head over heels for you. he didn’t know when it had started exactly—maybe it was the first time he heard your real laugh, or when you’d gone out of your way to help a stranger on the street, or the way you always managed to keep up with his fast-paced banter. all he knew was that you were constantly on his mind, and he was trying everything he could think of to show you how much he cared. but clearly, he’d been going about it the wrong way.

“look, i know what people say about me. i know i’ve made mistakes, and yeah, i’ve had relationships that didn’t work out. but that doesn’t mean i’m—that i’m what you think i am.”

“then what are you, dick?” you challenged, your voice sharp even as doubt began to creep in. “because all i see is a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”

he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i’m a guy who’s trying to show you that you’re important to me. that i care about you more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time. but apparently, i’ve done a terrible job of that.”

the raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. for the first time, you saw past the charm and the confidence to the vulnerability beneath. he wasn’t trying to manipulate you or play games—he was laying himself bare, and it terrified you almost as much as it touched you.

“you could have anyone,” you said quietly, your tone softening despite yourself. “why me?”

dick stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, as if he was trying to give you space while still closing the distance between you. “you challenge me. you make me want to be better. and yeah, maybe i’ve had a past, but none of that matters to me anymore.“

in the silence that followed, you felt your walls begin to crack. maybe he wasn’t perfect. maybe he’d made mistakes. but the sincerity in his eyes was impossible to ignore. he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he was saying what he needed you to know. you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that he was telling the truth.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD WASN’T A MAN KNOWN FOR BEING SUBTLE, especially when it came to matters of the heart. his past had been a mess, filled with pain, betrayal, and a long string of failed attempts at normalcy. but despite all the scars, despite the weight of the past, there was something about you that made him want to try, that made him want to be someone better, someone worth your time. yet, every time he tried to get closer to you, it felt like you were slipping farther away, as if you saw him as nothing more than just another guy who wanted a quick fling—someone like the men who had come before him, someone who was only interested in getting into your pants.

it frustrated him to no end.

jason knew he wasn’t perfect. hell, he knew he had a lot of baggage, a lot of things that would make most people run in the opposite direction. but you? you didn’t just run. you were cautious, almost skeptical, like you were holding him at arm’s length, convinced he was just another fool who thought he could charm you with a few clever lines and some smooth moves. the way you looked at him sometimes—it wasn’t with the disgust or anger he used to see when people looked at him, but something close. disappointment, maybe. like he was nothing more than a shadow of someone who could be worthy of your time.

the thing that gnawed at him the most was that you didn’t believe him. you didn’t believe that he was different, that he saw something in you beyond the physical. there were days when you’d look at him, laughing at something he said, a playful smile tugging at your lips, and jason would get this flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—you could see him the way he saw you. but then there were the other days. days when you’d pull away, your eyes distant, your words clipped, and it would hit him like a ton of bricks. you were still unconvinced.

it didn’t help that you knew his exes, some of the women from his past who had used him or only wanted him for the same thing you feared he wanted from you. and that only made you more guarded, more unwilling to take the chance on him. to you, it was as if he were just another man who came with a history of bad decisions. and to some extent, maybe you were right, but he wasn’t about to let that be the end of the story.

one night, after patrol, jason found himself sitting at your kitchen table. you were cooking ( his favorite ) , focused on your task, and he leaned back in his chair, watching you with a quiet intensity. he couldn’t help but study you—how you moved, how your eyes flickered over the ingredients, how you chewed on your bottom lip when you concentrated. he adored it all. and it pissed him off that he couldn’t just tell you how he felt without the weight of his past overshadowing it all.

“hey,” he finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had been hanging between you. you didn’t look at him right away, too absorbed in what you were doing, but when you did, it was with a look that said you knew exactly what was coming.

“jason,” you sighed, setting the knife down carefully and wiping your hands on the towel. “we’ve been through this.”

his brows furrowed, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “been through what?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice but failing. “what’s the deal with you?”

you paused, your face softening with an almost sad smile. “what do you mean, what’s the deal with me?” you asked with your voice a mix of amusement and something else—something more guarded. you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“you act like i’m just another guy you’re trying to keep at arm’s length,” jason said, vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. “i get it, alright? i do. i’ve messed up a lot. but i’m not trying to be just some guy who’s after your body. i’m not. i don’t know what else i have to say to make you believe that.”

your eyes softened upon hearing his rant, but there was still hesitation there, that skepticism that had become so familiar in his interactions with you. “jay, you’re a good guy, but . . .” you trailed off, searching for the words. “i’ve seen how things end with people like you. how they use others, and then leave them behind. and i’m not stupid. i can see how you look at me sometimes. it’s the same way you look at everyone else, isn’t it? like they’re just a means to an end.”

jason pushed himself up from his seat, crossing the small space between you in a few long strides. “that’s not how i look at you,” he stood firmly. “i don’t look at you like that at all. yeah, i’ve made mistakes. but i’m not the same guy who was a dickhead in the past, and i’m not the same guy who thought he could just charm his way into getting what he wanted. i care about you.”

you let out a breath, dropping your gaze for a moment, and his heart skipped a beat. there it was—the doubt, the hesitation that had been there for weeks, lingering just beneath the surface. he wasn’t going to let you slip away without trying, not when he knew what he felt. not when it was so clear to him that you were the one person who had somehow gotten through the walls he’d built.

“i’m not asking for anything from you,” he continued, his tone softening as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek with one hand, lifting your face so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “i’m just asking for the chance to show you. i know you don’t trust me yet. i get that. but please, give me a shot. i’m not just gonna walk away. not this time.”

there was a beat of silence between you two, the air thick with everything unsaid. and for a moment, you just stood there, your eyes locked on his, reading him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. he was giving you everything in that moment, his heart, his truth, all laid bare in front of you. and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if you would walk away.

but then, something in your eyes shifted. a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you sighed, reaching up to gently take his hand from your cheek.

“okay,” you said softly, voice almost a whisper. “okay, jason. i’ll give you a chance.”

jason’s heart fluttered in his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips as he leaned forward to kiss you. he was a man who had always been wary of letting anyone get close, but when it came to you, he would do anything to prove he wasn’t the same man he once was.

and with that, for the first time in a long while, jason allowed himself to hope.

[yoyomomiko]

☆ : They're jealous ×

characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace

cw: jealousy (is that supposed to be a warning??), probably ooc, cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(a/n): This is like, my first time writing for one piece characters specifically😀 I'm barely in Alabasta but I cannot wait until I finish one piece so that I can write for it😔 ACE IS A NEED UGH -> m.list

★requests are open!!

LUFFY

Luffy doesn't understand jealousy at first and will simply blurt out "Why are you talking to him so much?" without realizing it sounds possessive.

Believe it or not, he can get VERY possessive. You're pretty much just as valuable as his hat, you're his treasure.

That's right, his treasure.

So then, why are you talking to that donkey faced man? He's so ugly, why would you even bother wasting your breath speaking to him?

He'll cling to you like glue, throwing an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand tightly while pouting.

When Luffy's jealous he starts getting loud, making exaggerated jokes or showing off just to grab your attention.

Complains to the rest of the crew (probably Usopp or Nami), asking things like "Why does she want to talk to him when I'm right here?"

He completely interrupts your conversation with the other person by inserting himself, I just kinda feel like he'd do that.

WILL demand you sit next to him at meals and get grumpy if you sit by someone else.

He can't stay mad for long, the SECOND you give him attention, he lights up again as if nothing happened.

If the other person makes you laugh, he'll immediately try to one up them by doing something goofy, trust me, I know

He will casually lean on you or put his hat on your head as a possessive gesture (LUFFY THE MAN YOU ARE)

He's so childish

ZORO

Zoro acts nonchalant but is secretly FUMING inside when someone gets too close to you.

Glares daggers at the other person, making them incredibly uncomfortable without saying a word, he's just like that

Crosses his arms and stands near you as if silently asserting dominance (ugh I need him)

He gets extra grumpy with Sanji or anyone else he sees as competition, throwing insults their way.

He physically can't hide his annoyance and mutters things under his breath like "Tch, what's so interesting about him?"

If you laugh at someone else's joke he's gonna be like "It wasn't that funny."

I feel like he gets jealous if someone compliments you, but instead of complimenting you himself, he'll grumble like "You don't need to hear that from him."

WILL position himself between you and the other person, silently blocking them from getting closer.

I think he lowkey gets clingy after cooling down his jealousy, sticking close to you but pretending it's no big deal.

When you reassure him, he'll pretend it didn’t bother him, saying stuff like "Whatever, it's not like I cared." But deep down, he's RELIEVED.

SANJI

Lord have mercy

Sanji gets visibly jealous and is UNABLE to hide it with his dramatic reactions

He definitely calls the other person out immediately, saying things like "Why are you bothering her, huh?"

He tries to pull your attention back to him by showering you with compliments and affection.

He starts offering to cook your favorite dishes after that, just to make himself seem more worthy than moss head over there

If the other person is flirting, Sanji will step in and sweet talk to you SO passionately it makes the other person back off (simp power??)

He dramatically smokes while muttering "How could she look at someone else when I'm right here..."

Tries to outdo the other person in everything, just to show he's better

WILL ask you "Do you think he's better than me?" with puppy dog eyes

100% gets extremely competitive with Zoro (if it's him you're giving attention to) insulting him while trying to impress you

When reassured, he's back to his usual lovestruck self and saying "I knew you couldn't resist me, my angel!"

Sanji just wants to feel like he's your number one, and your affection always melts his jealousy away.

ACE

MY MAN UGHH

HE'S THE REASON I STARTED ONE PIECE IN THE FIRST PLACE

Anywayss

Ace tries to play it cool, but his temper makes his jealousy pretty obvious.

If someone flirts with you, he'll casually throw an arm around your shoulders and say "She's taken, by the way."

Speaking of throwing, he definitely picks you up and completely THROWS you over his shoulder. It doesn't matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he ALWAYS manhandles you.

His freckles make it easy to spot when he's blushing out of jealousy or frustration (UGH😫)

He gets restless and starts fidgeting, for example bouncing his leg while watching you talk to someone else (is that my seat right there?)

Stares at the person with a smirk that doesn't quite hide his irritation, daring them to push their luck (you know that one scene in Alabasta where that giant scorpion was in front of him and Ace was like "I wouldn't if I were you" or something like that? Yeah, that's right🤭)

If someone compliments you, he'll immediately agree and add "Yeah, but I noticed that first."

UGH KICKING MY FEET😣

Can get surprisingly moody, muttering things like "What's so special about him, anyway?"

Might act a little childish, poking fun at the other person

WILL casually flex his strength or abilities if he feels the need to, like lighting a flame in his hand and saying "Bet he can't do this huh?"

If you reassure him or show him affection, he'll relax immediately, grinning and saying something like "Yeah, I knew you couldn't resist me."

And he's smirking at you with that stupid handsome face (I need him🚨)

★yoyomiko ★miko

[23victoria]

Jealousy, Jealousy

f1 grid x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: just the guys being jealous, a lil uncomfortable situations ig,

authors note: sorry i took so long with this anon 🥹🤍! also sorry if this is bad for some reason i was struggling 😓 also ignore any typos any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!! if you wanna join my taglist, click HERE!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You were at a quaint bookstore in London, browsing through the latest bestsellers. Lewis was busy with a media event, so you decided to take some time to yourself. While searching the shelves, a charming young man approached you, striking up a conversation about the book you were holding.

"So, are you a Ana Huang fan?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile.

You smiled back, appreciating the casual conversation. "Yes, I love her Twisted series! Currently reading book 2."

"That's one of the best books!" he said, inching closer. "I can definitely recommend some more books similar to hers! Maybe if I could get-"

Unbeknownst to you, Lewis had wrapped up his event early and decided to surprise you. He walked into the bookstore just as you were chatting with the stranger. He immediately noticed the man's enthusiastic gestures and your engaged expression. His protective instincts kicked in.

He approached with a confident stride, sliding an arm around your waist. "Hey, babe. Who's your friend?" Lewis's tone was polite, but his eyes were intense.

"Oh, Lewis! This is Tom, we were just talking about The Twisted Series!" you said, trying to ease the tension.

Tom extended his hand, but Lewis's grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lewis."

Tom picked up on the vibe and quickly made his exit. "Nice to meet you too. I'll let you two enjoy your day."

As Tom walked away, you turned to Lewis, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"

Lewis chuckled, relaxing his hold. "Maybe a little. Can you blame me? He was cleary interested."

You kissed his cheek, reassured by his protectiveness. "You’re cute when you get like this, you know you're the only one for me."

Max 

You were at a trendy bar in Monaco with some friends, celebrating your  movie premiere. Max was racing that weekend, so you hadn't expected to see him. While chatting at the bar, a guy approached you, complimenting your dress.

"That dress looks amazing on you," he said smoothly.

"Thanks," you replied, smiling politely.

Max, who had finished his practice session early, decided to surprise you. He walked into the bar and immediately spotted you talking to the stranger. His mood darkened as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you.

Max wasted no time, walking straight over and placing a possessive hand on your lower back. "Hey, schatje. Who's this?"

You turned, surprised and delighted to see him. "Max! This is Jason. He just complimented me on my dress."

Jason, sensing the tension, took a step back. "Nice to meet you, Max. You look beautiful Y/N, nice talking to you."

Max nodded curtly, watching Jason leave before turning his attention back to you. "What was that about?"

"Just a compliment," you said, smiling. "Why are you jealous?"

Max pulled you into a deep kiss, making sure everyone in the bar knew you were his. "No."

You laughed, hugging him tightly. "Yes you are, but it’s okay, I like when you get jealous. Besides you're the only one I want, Maxie."

Charles 

You were at the university library, studying for an upcoming exam. Charles was away for a race, so you decided to focus on your studies. A fellow classmate approached you, asking if he could join you at your table.

"Sure," you said, moving your books to make space.

The two of you started discussing your coursework, but the conversation soon shifted to more personal topics. Just as the guy was about to ask you out for coffee, Charles walked in. He had flown back earlier than expected to surprise you.

He saw you laughing with the guy and felt a pang of jealousy. Charles walked over, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Hey, love. Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprised and thrilled. "Charles! Of course, sit down. This is Peter, we were just studying."

Peter quickly excused himself, sensing the unspoken tension. "I'll see you around, Y/N."

As Peter left, Charles took his seat beside you, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. "Who was that?"

"Just a classmate," you said, amused by his reaction. "Jealous much?"

Charles sighed, pulling you closer. "Maybe. But I have every right to be, I mean look at you, you're gorgeous. Any person with common sense would want you."

You kissed his cheek, whispering, "You're adorable, Char! You never have to worry about that. Trust me, you're the only one I want."

Oscar 

You were at a cozy café in Melbourne, waiting for your boyfriend. He had a busy schedule, but you managed to find time for a quick coffee date. While waiting, a guy at the next table struck up a conversation.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, clearly interested.

"Not really, just waiting for someone," you replied, hoping he would take the hint. 

He leaned in a bit closer, a confident smile on his face. "Well, maybe while you wait, we could get to know each other better."

Oscar walked in at that moment, his eyes narrowing as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you as he spoke. He walked over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Hey, baby. Ready to go?"

The guy quickly backed off, realizing he was intruding. "Oh, I'll leave you two to it," he said, standing up and walking away.

Oscar watched him go before turning to you. "Who was that?"

"I don’t know, just some random guy," you said, smiling up at him. "You feeling okay? You look a little red?"

Oscar shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Looking at him you say, “You sure it’s not because you got a little jealous?”

Oscar chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe a little. I just can't stand the thought of anyone else getting your attention."

You hugged him tightly, giving him a short kiss. "You just have to get used to having a very attractive girlfriend baby."

“I guess I do.” he says cheekily wrapping his arm around your waist as you guys walk out. 

Carlos 

You were in the pit lane, watching the preparations for the upcoming race. Carlos was busy with the team, so you decided to explore the area. A fellow fan, noticing your VIP pass, struck up a conversation.

"Are you here for the race?" he asked, clearly impressed by your pass.

"Yes, I'm here with my boyfriend," you replied, trying to be polite but distant.

"That's great," he said, undeterred by the mention of your boyfriend. "Is this your first time attending, or are you a regular?"

"Regular." you responded, hoping the conversation would end soon.

"Oh, so your boyfriend's rich, huh?" he remarked with a smirk.

"Uh, sure…yeah," you replied, taken aback and uncomfortable with his comment.

Carlos, having finished his briefing, spotted you talking to the guy. His protective instincts flared up as he saw him getting a bit too friendly.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, cariño. Everything okay?"

The guy quickly stepped back, realizing who Carlos was. "Oh, hey, big fan. Just talking about the race."

Carlos nodded curtly, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the race."

As the fan walked away, you turned to Carlos, smiling. "Thanks for the save."

"No problem," he replied, his expression softening.

"You know, I love how protective you are," you said, leaning into him. "And maybe when you get jealous just a little. It's cute."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Lets go get some food, cariño."

Lando 

You were at a gaming convention, enjoying the various booths and activities. Lando was busy with a panel discussion, so you decided to explore. A fellow gamer struck up a conversation, discussing the latest games.

"Have you tried the new VR game?" he asked, clearly excited.

"Not yet, but it looks amazing," you replied, sharing his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it's fantastic," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I wouldn't mind showing a beautiful girl like you how to use it sometime. It'd be fun."

Lando, having finished his panel, spotted you chatting with the gamer. Jealousy panned over him as he saw the guy flirting with you. 

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey baby! What are we talking about?"

The gamer quickly felt the energy shift. "Just talking about the new VR game."

Lando nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Cool."

As the gamer walked away, you turned to Lando, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Lando sighed, pulling you closer. "What?! It’s not my fault he was interested in my girlfriend."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Key word in that sentence is “my girlfriend”."

Sebastian 

You were attending a charity event, mingling with various guests. Sebastian was busy with the organizers, so you decided to socialize. A charming gentleman approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the event.

"It's great to see so many people supporting this cause," he said, smiling.

"Absolutely," you replied, enjoying the conversation.

He leaned in a little closer, his tone becoming more personal. "Especially when someone as beautiful as you is here."

You smile nervously, not expecting his direct approach. "Oh, thank you," you responded, trying to look around and grab Seb’s attention.

Sebastian, having finished his duties, spotted you talking to the guy, looking around. He saw the man getting too friendly and walked over to you.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, honey. Would you like a drink? Oh! Who's this?"

The gentleman quickly realized he was intruding. "Just talking about the event."

Sebastian nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the evening then."

As the man walked away, you turned to Sebastian, raising an eyebrow. "I love when you get protective, it’s hot, the jealousy too."

Sebastian smirked, pulling you closer. "Jealous? Me?! Don’t know what you’re talking about."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Mhmm, yea, yea. Let’s get my drink."

Jenson 

You were attending an award ceremony, mingling with various celebrities. Jenson was busy with interviews, so you decided to socialize. A charming actor approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the a.

"It's great to see so many talented people here," he said, smiling.

"Agreed," you replied, engaging in the conversation."All nominees this year were very talented and impressive."

He nodded thoughtfully, then leaned in a little closer, his gaze lingering on you. "Speaking of impressive, I couldn't help but notice how stunning you look tonight."

You chuckled softly, flattered but unsure how to respond. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

He grinned charmingly. "So, are you here with anyone special tonight?"

Jenson spotted you talking to the guy. And started to walk towards you. 

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Who's this?"

The actor quickly realized you were taken. "Just talking about the event."

Jenson nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Yea, it’s a nice thing."

As the man walked away, you turned to Jenson, raising an eyebrow. "Nice thing?"

Jenson sighed, pulling you closer so he can squeezing your waist. "Didn’t know what to say without being rude so that's what came to my mind."

You smiled and kissed him gently. "Let’s go check out the catering at this 'nice thing'."

Daniel

You were exploring a quaint art gallery in Paris, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the beauty of the artwork on display. Daniel had left his phone in the car, leaving you to appreciate the art alone. As you admired a painting, a friendly gallery assistant approached, eager to discuss the artist's work.

"This piece here is quite exceptional," he said, gesturing towards a vivid abstract painting. "It really captures the essence of movement and emotion."

"It truly does," you replied, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The color blending and stippling is beautiful."

He smiled warmly. "You have a keen eye for art. Beautiful art for a beautiful girl."

"Oh, thank you," you said, trying to show no interest.

Daniel walked into the gallery, He approached, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Finding any new favorites?"

The gallery assistant reacted quickly to Daniel's presence and backed away. "Just discussing the beautiful artwork," he explained.

Daniel nodded casually. "Thanks for your insights, but we're good here."

As the gallery assistant politely excused himself, you turned to Daniel with a playful smirk. "Oh, someoness jealouss?"

Daniel chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "No, no. Protective, yes. Jealous, could never be me."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Mhm hm, if you say so."

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Fluffy Jackson!Joel, age gap mentioned but not specified, angsty Joel thinking he doesn't deserve you I'm gonna vom I'm so emotional about Joel Miller this morning. Yeah it’s a little corny idc. Lightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Slim Pickins

You never cared much for the boys in Jackson.

It wasn’t that they were all bad—not really. Some were decent enough, kind in that overeager way that made it clear they wanted to be seen as something more than just survivors. The younger ones, the ones your age, all had something to prove. Like they thought the end of the world meant they had to carve out their place in it with their fists, their bravado, their talk of patrols and takedown counts.

You weren’t interested.

You wanted someone steady. Someone who didn’t feel the need to boast, who didn’t make survival a contest, who wasn’t fumbling to figure out who they were even after all these years.

And that’s why your eyes always found Joel Miller.

He never tried to be charming. Never played the fool. Never talked just to hear himself speak. Matter of fact, you hardly heard him speak at all unless Ellie or Tommy were around. In any other conversation you managed to overhear, he was polite but always a man of few words. 

He was older, rough around the edges, sharp where others were soft. He was the kind of man who knew how to build things, how to keep them standing. You admired that. Admired the way his hands were always busy, fixing things, sharpening knives, reinforcing weak spots in the town’s defenses. Admired the way he looked after Ellie without making a show of it, the way he always sat with his back to a wall, eyes scanning like he could predict trouble before it came knocking.

The only problem was getting him to see what had been so obvious to you from the start.

Joel had been stubborn.

The first time you flirted with him—really flirted—he’d just blinked at you, like he thought he misheard. The second time, he’d scoffed, muttered something about "findin’ someone your own damn age." The third time… Well, that one had been his mistake.

Because you’d caught him looking.

It was just a flicker, just a second. But it was real. You’d seen it in the way his eyes lingered, the way his jaw tensed like he was biting down a thought he didn’t want to have. That was when you knew.

It was only a matter of time.

And now—now he was here.

Warm and solid beneath you, his arm heavy around your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your bare skin. The room smelled like both of you, like sweat and shared warmth and something slow-burning, something that had taken its time getting here. You were tangled up in each other, bare bodies draped together in the low morning light, catching your breath as the quiet hum of Jackson began to wake up just beyond the window.

“Tell me somethin’,” he muttered.

“Anything,” you murmured, your lips pressing gently into the warmth of his neck.

He sighed, the sound more exasperated than anything, his head turning on the pillow to look at you. His big eyes were so full of tenderness, but something flickered in them—a hesitation, a question he’d been holding onto longer than he wanted to admit.

“Why me?”

You stared at him for a long moment before a smirk twitched on your lips, and you ran your fingers through his graying curls, watching the way his eyes fluttered at the feeling.

“Haven’t you heard?” you teased, voice laced with playfulness, “It’s the end of the world, Mr. Miller. It’s slim pickin’s around here.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, rolling his eyes like he wasn’t gonna let you get away with that answer.

But before he could grumble something about being an old man, you slid your hand down, fingers trailing over his chest, slow and sure, until you could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart beneath your palm.

"Good thing," you murmured, voice softer now, "you’re exactly the man I want."

Joel exhaled, long and slow.

And maybe, maybe that should have been enough to satisfy him.

But it wasn’t.

Because you knew he had lived too many years and lost too many things to believe in easy answers. He had spent too much time walking through hell to believe he had come out on the other side deserving of this.

His fingers curled against your hip, like he was testing it. The weight of you against him, the warmth of you in his bed. Maybe still half-convinced that this was something he’d wake up from.

You sighed, nudging your nose against his jaw. “Joel.”

He hummed, but it was barely a sound, like he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

So you tried again. Softer this time. “Do you really think I would ever want anyone else?”

He didn’t answer.

You traced your fingers along his chest, slow and thoughtful, your mind drifting somewhere neither of you had ever dared to go before.

“I wonder sometimes,” you admitted, “what it would’ve been like. If we’d met before.”

Joel hesitated, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, eyes scanning your face. 

You let the thought settle between you, warm and quiet.

“Think about it,” you mused, your voice dipping into something thoughtful, something wistful. “Would we have even met? In a normal world?”

You could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. A life that could have been. A life that was gone before either of you had a chance to claim it.

“I was just a kid in Texas when everything happened,” you murmured. “Would’ve grown up, maybe gone to college, gotten some easy job that didn’t mean anything. You would’ve still been…” you swallowed, “you.”

A father. Maybe a husband at some point. A man with a life already built.

“Maybe I would’ve walked past you somewhere,” you continued. “At a store. A gas station. Maybe you would’ve held a door open for me, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

Joel’s fingers tightened against you like he was grounding himself in this moment. His voice was steady when he spoke. No hesitation, no doubt.

“I would’ve noticed you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, breath caught in your throat as your hand slid higher, up to the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Would you?”

Joel exhaled softly, leaning into your touch without thinking, his eyes tracing over your face like he was memorizing every piece of you.

“‘Course I would’ve,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter when or where. Could’ve been another life, another world—" his thumb stroked absently along your waist, voice dipping into something quiet, something certain—"I still would’ve found you.”

The words settled into you, warm and heavy, threading through your ribs, curling tight around your heart.

Then, suddenly, he was smiling—just a little—as his hand came up to your face, cupping your jaw, his thumb sweeping along your cheek.

“Maybe in a normal world, I’d be the one pesterin’ you instead of the other way around.”

You laughed, tilting your chin up as you leaned closer. “I only ‘pestered’ ‘cause you’re too damn stubborn.”

Joel huffed softly, shaking his head like you were trouble, like you’d gotten under his skin in a way he’d never be able to shake.

But he pulled you closer, his fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your face up just enough. His gaze flickered over you—your eyes, your lips—like he was taking his time, like he wanted to make sure you were committed to his memory.

And then he kissed you, slow and deep, breathing you in. Like a promise. Like an answer to a question neither of you had to ask.

His hand moved to the back of your head, lacing into your hair, the other tracing a slow path down your spine, pulling you against him until there was no space left between you. You sighed into him, melting, your fingers tangling into his hair as he deepened the kiss, as he drank you in like you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose.

When you finally parted, just barely, your forehead resting against his, his breath was warm against your lips.

“See?” you murmured, softer this time, “Slim pickin’s or not, I still would’ve found my way to you, Joel Miller.”

He exhaled, low and content, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them—

“I know.”

And this time, he did believe you.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me

Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.

"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX

– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.

– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.

– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.

– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.

– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.

– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.

– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.

– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.

––

VI

– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.

– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.

– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.

– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.

– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.

– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.

– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.

– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?

– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.

__

CAITLYN

– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.

– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.

– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).

– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.

– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.

– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.

– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.

– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.

– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.

– Shyness is not a crime!

– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?

––

SEVIKA

– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.

– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.

– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.

– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.

– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.

– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."

– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.

– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.

– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."

– like damnnnn, okay!

– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.

--

MEL

– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.

– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.

– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.

– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.

– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.

– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.

– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.

– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...

– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."

– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.

– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.

WC: 1,705

[caotictimmy]

Hey!!! Can you do Curly x (gn, but it's okay if you don't! Whatever you prefer writing) reader headcanons? Post or pre crash idk it's up to you! Even if you want to write a one-shot I don't mind really whatever you feel like writing it's up to you I JUST NEED CURLY CONTENT JDJDJDJJWJSBSB

Btw I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

Thank you!!! I hope your having a good day to! I’m gonna be doing pre crash Curly. I’ll probably be doing the same format I did with Daisuke. Crushing - confessing. Dating than NSFW. It will prob be more Gn but I’ll put (AFAB) when in gonna talk about more AFAB stuff. (Btw this is gonna be like what a regular trip would be for them.)

Crushing - Confession

- Kind of like love at first sight. But it’s a love at first true conversations. Lemme explain

- Yes you’ve had conversations with Curly before. But not on a personal level. Your guys first conversation was prob Like you guys were either both up going to get coffee at a late hour. So when you both see each other where the coffee machine is. You guys make small talk. Before the conversation starts get more real. Not just forced talking. The conversation flows freely. And you guys find out you have a lot more in common.

- After that moment he realizes how much you guys click together. You interest him. So except for him to come up and talk to you a lot more. He wants to get to know you better! (Totally not to remember everything you like and love to woe you)

- He’s another person who’s gonna be a bit obvious. Not as much as Daisuke though. But he’s still gonna be obvious.

- Curly definitely treats you better. Not like he doesn’t treat his crew good (jimmy doesn’t exist here.). But it’s more like picking favorites. Opening doors for you, before letting it slam shut even though Swansea was just about to walk through the door. (Curly got an ear full after that happened.).

- But the funny thing is that no one really notices that you’re getting treated better. Except for Daisuke funny enough… For another example imagine they have his surprise birthday party! He’s cutting the cake and he gives you a noticeable bigger piece of cake. Giving Daisuke a smaller piece. And let me tell you. This man was outraged. HE ASKED FOR THE BIGGEST PIECE AND CURLY GIVES HIM A SCHOOL PARTY SIZED PIECE?

- So of course he had to speak up. “Listen Curly, since I’m such a righteous man, I’ve let the favoritism towards them slide. BUT I CLEARLY ASKED FOR THE BIGGER PIECE! AND YOU GIVE THEM THE BIGGEST PIECE. I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS TREATMENT ANY LONGER!”

- To say everyone was stunned is an understatement. It was quiet for a good couples of minutes. Just standing still like the moment was paused. You then silently switched plates with Daisuke. Taking the smaller piece. He then found balanced was restored!

- “never mind Curly now I get why you favorite them.” He said looking over to you before raising his hand. “High five dude!” He said, smilingly giddily. (I love daisuke he’s so silly!)

- To say Curly was embarrassed would be an understatement. After that moment Curly knew he had to confess to you to soon. So he called you down to the cock pit. When you got there he lead you to sit in one of the chairs. Crouching before you. Holding your hands on his as he stares up at you. “You’ve made me feel emotions I’ve never truly felt before, god you mean so much to me. Will you be my partner.”, He asked.

- When you say yes he cups yours face with his hands. Leaning upwards to bring you in a passionate kiss.

Dating

- Like I said in that brief moment In Daisuke’s headcanons. This man is a die hard romantic to his core. So if you don’t mind. Curly would love to cuddle with you in bed, while watching sappy love movies. Just holding each other. God he loves you sm I’m gonna tweak up in this bitch.

- I think the affection he likes to receive is quality times and words of affirmation . And I think the affection he gives is acts of service and physical affection. Now let me cook. Guys LET.ME.COOK

-(receiving) Curly loves spending time with you. He tried to find as much time to fit you into his busy schedule. So when he finally gets to spend time with you. Omg he’s love sick!!!!!! He really doesn’t care what you guys are doing while being together. Whether that be doing or watching something together. Or maybe doing your own stuff. Your presence is so comforting. You calm him down sm.

-(receiving) He receives compliments a bit. But when you do it. It’s different. It makes his heart flutter, makes him feel like he has butterflies in his stomach all over again! He just feels so special when you compliment him!!!! Please compliment how good of a captain he is. Yes he gets praised for being a good captain. It just feels so genuine from you.

-(giving) He doesn’t care how you guys spend your quality time together. Whether that be doing or watching something together. Or just doing your guys own thing. He just loves being in your presence. You being there just makes him feel calmer, he knows he doesn’t have to keep this big stoic act in-front of you. He doesn’t mind if theirs silence or background noise. As long as he got to spend time with you.

-(giving) Curly isn’t gonna be doing big/a lot of physical affection all the time. Even though he does give you a lot of physically affection. I know I sound dumb right now stay with me. He’s more soft with his affection. Gently rubbing his thumb on your hand. Drawing shapes on your back while cuddling. Rubbing your leg when you sit next to him on the couch. Kissing a bruise you got from falling(those floors look slippery asf PROVE ME WRONG). He’s very romantic and soft with you and Curly’s just such a sweetie.

- A SUCKER for pda. Like he loves it so much. He feels bad if he has to “hide” how much he loves you away from the world! He feels so special knowing you wanted him, HIM! He’s just so sickly in love with you. He wants to show you off. Not in a trophy wife way but in a. Yeah see the drop dead gorgeous person that picked ME, yea that’s right, be jealous.

- He loves if you draw in him! From his hands to his arms. I think he finds it very relaxing and therapeutic. As long as you don’t draw anything inappropriate, he won’t care what you draw. He WILL proudly show off the drawings on his hands and arms. Like FLEX his arms. He loves them sm. Every time you draw on him, he takes a picture and keeps it in a folder on his phone.

- Loves anything you make him. Bracelets? Wears them all the time he might acually get a permanent imprint. Clothe? Try’s to find any opportunity to wear them. Art? Hung proudly in his bedroom. He appreciates anything you do for him. No matter what form affection it is.

- This man loves slinging his arm/arms around you. Arms around your waist. Arm around your shoulder. Hand on your hip. Idk why I think he likes it. But I have that spicy sense.

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (AFAB)

- Another man who would be into public/semi public sex. Y’all have DEFINITELY done it in the cockpit. Like almost everywhere. Curly and you have probably done it on the table too(you guys cleaned it afterwards don’t worry). But I think he just loves the thrill of it. You guys have almost been caught but thankfully Curly knows how to be quiet! (No shade to you Daisuke we love you)

- This man loves keeping his hands on you. Like a FIRMM grip on your hips as he’s hitting it. Gripping yours thighs. He just likes sinking his fingers in your soft flesh. Somehow just kinda grounds him in the moment. He also just loves feeling up your body.🫢

- Speaking of feeling you up. Dry humper. DRY HUMPER. I feel like this man is a tease. So this man will pin you against a wall, and just grind on you. Teasing you until you can’t take it anymore! He loves seeing a pout on your face before he gives you what you want.

- Like before, curly is a tease. He will push all your buttons. Just get you right there! Then stops. He wants to make sure when you climax. It’s better than the last time you guys had sex. It’s a GOAL for him to make you feel even better than the last time you guys slept together.

- Loves overstimulating you. Unlike Daisuke who accidentally overstimulates you. It’s Curly’s mission to get you brain dead by the end. He knows he’s making you feel good. This man won’t over do it though. Your comfort and safety is his priority! So he’ll always make sure you’re comfortable.

- Call him captain!!!!! God Curly gets so riled up when you call him captain. Teasingly calling him captain earns you a night of either overstimulation or edging. So I hope you are aloud to take sick leave, cause wooo…. You will be sore my friend

- (AFAB) Sit on his face.. OH GOOD GOLLY SIT ON HIS FACE. I imagine he’s buff. Like have you SEEN that fanart. So he can definitely take a lot of weight!( shout out my cubby AFABs i really wanna make a chubby reader FIC but idk..) BUT PLEASS, he’ll beg on his hands and knees. Like why are you keeping that tantalizing gift away from him???

- Yes I’ve been saying he can be a freak.(guys I promise I’m trying to be original 😭🙏) But I definitely think he’s More into romantic, soft sex. He likes to take his time. Kissing up and down your body. He wants to make sure you feel loved, and that he’s not just using you for your body. He is a sucker for you.

- He loves watching your face when he’s pleasuring you. No matter what he’s doing or where. He wants to know your getting pleased! That’s how he figured out what you liked and didn’t like fast. He kept his eyes trained on your face. He truly is a giver!

Authors note: GUYS I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IVE BEEN HAVIBD SIRE AFFECTS FROM MY PLAN B. Like dude I’ve been bed ridden for the past two days. But I’m feeling better and it’s the weekend. So more requests are on the way!

[brucedefender4eva]

<1>. <2>. <3>.

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: the moment they fell in love

You’d been with the brothers for some time now, long enough to recognize their habits, their moods, the way each of them loved in their own unique language. They didn’t fall all at once. It was gradual, quiet in some cases and impossible to ignore in others. Each of them warmed up to you at their own pace, but when it hit, when they realized they’d fallen for you, they fell hard. And there was no going back.

Lucifer — Slow-burn, recognition over time

Lucifer doesn’t fall easily. He resists the idea of being emotionally compromised. For him, it wasn’t a dramatic moment, it was a gradual accumulation. He notices how you hold your own, how you work hard without necessarily being noticed, how you ease the burden of handling his brothers, and how you effortlessly calm him during times of stress. But the moment hits one evening after a long council meeting. He comes home and finds you waiting for him. The house is quiet, no chaos, seemingly you took care of everything so he could come home to peace. You smile and hand him a cup of tea. No words, just an understanding. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly, he takes the tea and gives you a soft thanks. He feels it then: a rare warmth that makes the silence between you more comfortable than any conversation. He doesn't panic, but he does retreat, quietly adjusting his cuffs, unsure what to do with something so... human. He'll often just stare at you, thinking to himself about his feelings. If you meet his gaze he'll look away briefly, clear his throat and pretend to do something else. How has a human infiltrated his heart and mind like this? Ridiculous, he mutters to himself, but the way his chest tightens says he believes otherwise.

Mammon — Love at first sight, but he doesn't know it yet

The second he lays eyes on you, he knows you’re different. But he brushes it off, calls it curiosity, interest, maybe even a small crush. He's always in your room, invading your privacy, being clingy, he never asked himself why he liked being around you, because he was scared of the answer. It’s not until he finds himself instinctively stepping in front of you during a threat, heart racing, fists clenched, that it clicks. He’s terrified by how badly he wants to protect you. His reaction? Defensiveness. Lots of “It’s not like I like you or anything!” and awkward attempts at distancing himself, which only pull him in closer. The realization hits him fully when you defend him, a moment of unexpected loyalty. His heart stutters, and he can’t look you in the eye. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, voice shaky, “Why do you make me feel this way?” A few weeks pass and you notice his face turns red if you stare at him too long. Sometimes he just paces around his room internally panicking after an interaction with you, thinking you know his secret–his love for you–as if it isn't blatantly obvious.

Leviathan — Slow-burn, denial stage included

Levi thinks he’s not the kind of person people fall for, so he never lets himself consider falling for someone either. At first, he tries to categorize his fondness for you like he would a favorite character: someone cool, rare, different. But when you stay up with him during a new game release, and he looks over to find you curled against him, your gentle presence grounding him in reality, it hurts a little. It's too real. His chest tightens and he looks away fast, slinking deeper into his hoodie to hide the color rising in his face. “You’re just... too good at co-op,” he mutters. But in his heart, he knows it’s more. He doesn’t understand how someone like you, someone real, could sit beside him and make the world outside his screen feel more important. He falls quietly, helplessly, and never stops. He tries to convince himself later, when he's alone, that his love for Ruri-chan is enough for him, but when he remembers how lonely he felt before meeting you, he knows there's nobody else he'd rather fall for.

Satan — A gradual slide that becomes undeniable

For Satan, love is built on intellectual connection and emotional honesty. You win his attention when you match him in wit, push back when he's teasing, and listen when he's serious. Normally people find him brash or rude, but you seem to soften his edge. You're not put off by him as others are, so he's always respected you for it. But the moment he falls is much softer. You're helping him reorganize his library after a particularly bad outburst. He’s frustrated with himself, expecting you to be wary of him, but instead, you smile and ask if the fiction should go alphabetically or by theme. Your calm in the aftermath of his rage, your easy presence among the ruined books and sharp silence, feels like a balm he didn’t know he needed. The way you normalize his worst parts, without pity, undoes him. He realizes then that he wants your presence in both the quiet and the chaos. His reaction? A thoughtful pause, followed by a soft, genuine smile he rarely shows. He doesn't say anything right away, but from then on, he looks for more excuses to spend time with you.

Asmodeus — Instant attraction, deeper love over time

Asmo knew you were different when he realized his magic charm didn't work on you. People were easily enamored by him, but you? He flirts, of course, testing boundaries with a twinkle in his eye. But when you don't play into it the way others do,when you're gentle with him as a person, not just a pretty face, he becomes genuinely curious. You listen when he talks about the things no one else cares to ask, his insecurities, his quietest dreams,and he finds himself saying more than he meant to. The moment it turns to love is intimate: you catch him in his room late one night, makeup half-removed, smile nowhere in sight. As much as Asmo portrays himself as unbothered, he's not immune to negative emotion. You ask if he wants company without expecting anything. There’s no performance in your voice, no angle, just care, and he realizes he doesn’t know how to protect himself from that. When he nods and you sit beside him, just being there, he leans into your shoulder and thinks: This must be what love feels like. Even in silence, he feels adored, not because of how he looks, but because of who he is. It terrifies and thrills him. He clings a little tighter that night.

Beelzebub— Slow, steady, and deeply rooted

Beel falls in love the way trees grow: quiet, strong, and always. It starts when you offer him food without fear or judgment. It deepens when you sit beside him in silence, content just to be near. But the moment hits him one day in the kitchen. You’re making something for everyone, humming to yourself, flour dusting your sleeves. He sees how happy you look caring for others, and his chest feels warm in a way hunger can’t explain. You offer him a spoon to taste and smile like it's nothing, but to him it feels like everything. He watches you move around the kitchen like you belong in his world, like this moment was always meant to be. It’s not loud or dramatic, but it settles in him so deeply he knows it won’t leave. He doesn’t say the words, but from that moment on, he’s all in. His love is simple: he shows up, carries your weight, and never lets go. He’d protect that quiet kind of joy you bring with the same devotion he gives his family.

Belphegor — Reluctant love, but impossible to ignore

Belphie fights it. Hard. After everything he’s done, he doesn’t think he deserves your kindness. At first, he pushes your affection away with sarcasm, trying to keep you at arm’s length. But the moment he falls is unexpectedly vulnerable. You find him asleep in the planetarium, clearly exhausted and wanting to get away from the chaos inside the house, and instead of waking him, you sit beside him and stay. When he wakes, still half-dreaming, he sees you there. head resting on his shoulder, trusting him enough to fall asleep too. It breaks him open. You didn’t ask for anything, didn’t pry or judge, just chose to exist quietly with him, and that choice mattered more than he could ever say. The ache in his chest wasn’t guilt this time, but something heavier and gentler all at once. He doesn't speak, just watches you breathe for a moment, and something soft and sharp settles in his chest. He falls quietly, but it hits like gravity. He’ll never admit it out loud, not yet, but from that night on, he sleeps better knowing you exist. He starts finding more reasons to linger near you, even if it’s just in the same room, like your presence tethers him to the better parts of himself.