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minkieater · 4 months ago

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first time with mingi ִ ִ ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

smut minors dni | wc ~4k

after your third date with mingi, you were impatiently ready to take things further. you traded a fancy restaurant for your living room, roses for snacks, a bottle of red wine for a six pack of beer sitting on the second shelf of your fridge. mingi was cozier than he’d been, sweatpants and a hoodie hanging loose off his body, glasses on his beautiful bare face. you think you might prefer him this way— as sexy as he looked in a black button up and slacks…

you sat on your couch, drinks and snacks sprawled across your coffee table, a massive blanket covering both of your bodies. you were curled into his side, head lying just below his collarbone, legs sprawled across his lap. he had one arm across your legs, the other in your hair, fingers scratching at your scalp: it all felt so domestic. like mingi was meant to be here, with you, as if this wasn’t only your fourth date.

mingi sat spread out— knees wide, back leaned into the cushions, head lazily placed atop yours. he felt so massive as you clung to him, it was dizzying, you never considered yourself inherently small, but next to him? with his six foot build, broad shoulders, thick thighs, hard chest— he felt so strong beneath you, you knew he could flip you around if he wanted to. the thought was too incriminating for the close proximity you were in.

the last date had ended with you and mingi lazily making out on your doorstep where you almost invited him in, but you weren’t ready yet— you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself, so you sent him off with swollen, wet lips and pants tighter than they were when he walked you up. tonight was different— you told yourself tonight was the night, you prepared yourself, but sitting with your body wrapped around him made you consider that maybe you’d never be ready for him.

he made it easier, though, the more his fingers played with your hair, the more you relaxed into him— although it didn’t stop the fidgeting. you don’t think you paid attention to the movie after the first five minutes— mind immediately dropping to the gutter once you felt him under you.

“you comfortable?” he pulled you from your thoughts, his voice husky yet soft— he caught you and he didn’t even know it.

you tilted your head up to look at him him as a meek yeah fell off your lips, you saw the moment of realization: when his eyes darkened, glossing over ever so slightly, lips parted barely a centimeter to take a quick inhale. he could see it all over you, you could see it all over him— the acceptance, the want, the need.

you tilted your chin up first, catching his lips between yours. he groaned into it, hand in your hair tightening at your roots, tilting your head backward with the force he kissed you back with. you gasped into him, lips still moving in a steady rhythm, taking his bottom lip between your own and then his top one, right handing sliding across his clothed chest.

he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth, massaging yours— your head was elsewhere, within seconds your makeout turned hot and heavy, your skin was burning for him. he pushed you back onto the couch with slight questioning force and you answered with no pushback, letting your back hit the cushions freely, arms immediately shooting for his neck to pull him closer.

he crawled on top of you and you hooked your legs around his hips, fingers tangling behind his neck, feeling the short brown hairs that stood at his nape. he kissed you harder, tongue messily entering your mouth without any shame— you whimpered as your legs tightened around him.

“shit,” he groaned in response, his voice impossibly deeper as his hips bucked involuntarily, meeting your center which made you both let out high pitched, drawn out noises of pleasure.

you breathed into each other’s mouths for a moment as you took a pause, the only other noise being the sound of your heartbeats as you both realized where this was headed. he sat up on his calves, running a hand through his hair, you begged your eyes to not drop to his groin, to ignore the clear tent in his sweats.

“mingi?” you asked a question with just his name, voice small, quiet. he took a breath as if he needed to calm down— in case you didn’t want to take this further. “i want you,” it was almost moaning the way your voice relayed everything you felt, every ember of passion that he ignited the moment he pulled you on top of him. the loss of contact was brutal, you felt cold with the blanket long forgotten and mingi’s body heat so far away.

it was as if you flipped a switch with how quickly he responded, yet he still asked the question as he crawled on top of you again, “are you sure?”

“yes,” you said through a breath as your legs hooked around his hips and your fingers tangled in his hair, you needed him closer, his warmth and his weight.

he groaned before his lips attached to your jaw, sloppy and wet as they trailed from your ear to your chin— back to your lips, then down the column of your throat. your center was throbbing for it— him, aching with a pulse only he could satisfy. your hips pressed into him as his hands traveled up your waist beneath your shirt, using his hips as leverage to grind yourself against him as he felt your skin.

the noises that left his lips were lewd— husky breaths, deep groans, whimpers when you rolled your hips against him just right. a smile crept onto your face, everything about him, every move he made was so hot you thought you’d explode if you didn’t get more friction.

“so beautiful, so soft,” he mumbled as he flipped your top above your chest, hands exploring your bare skin, thumbs flicking over your nipples beneath your bralette.

“take it off,” your voice was long gone— you didn’t sound like yourself anymore— already. you arched your back and he used two fingers to unhook your bra, pulling it over your head with your top.

nipples hardening under the cool air, he warmed them with his breath before his plump lips wrapped around your left one, thumb coming up to run over your right. you moaned, back arching into him, your lower half trapped beneath his build. his other arm traveled up your waist, just feeling, exploring, caressing— the stimulation was mouth watering, you had no filter, noises leaving your lips without thought.

“perfect fuckin’ tits,” he announced without even looking at you, mouth moving to your other nipple, wet lips making a trail of spit between them. your head was buried into the cushion, hips begging to be set free, to move, to be touched.

mingi could feel your desperation and he loved it, he let you squirm, let you beg for it— mingi loved to feel wanted, and your reactions told him you needed him. he was on cloud nine.

“more,” you mumbled, more under your breath than out loud, and mingi was quick to obey. thumbs hooking into your waistband he pulled them down, lips following, hot wet kisses placed down your torso.

you squirmed as the cool air hit more bare skin, antsy for more, for his lips, his hands, his fingers— anything he’d give you’d take greedily, then still ask for more.

his lips hit your hips, teeth nibbling at the bone beneath your skin, making you suck in a harsh breath. he smiled as he got your pants off, hands traveling up your legs, rough palms against the soft flesh of your thighs. he peeled them open, met with dark lace and a smell so sweet he struggled to take his time. a kiss to your ankle, to your calf, just below your knee, he licked the underside of your thigh and your moans grew in pitch and volume.

it was music to his ears as he pressed another just beside the lace, hands ghosting over your hips, he knew you were impatient but he wanted to savor every moment, every noise, every movement of your hips jutting towards his face. you whined as his thumb skimmed over your center, putting pressure on your clit, still over your panties.

“don’t tease, please mingi, need you,” he had to ignore your pleas as much as it killed him to– he needed to take it slow, even if you were soaked through the thin lace already, you needed to finish once or twice before he’d even consider fucking you properly.

“patience, baby,” he once again didn’t look up, too focused on hooking his thumb under the lace, pushing it to the side. his mouth watered as he got a proper look at you, core glistening under the dim light coming from the movie you stopped watching, for a moment he thought he’d start drooling if he didn’t dive into you immediately.

he licked a fat stripe up the center of your folds and you moaned fully, back arching and head falling backward, the soft weight of his tongue was heavenly. mingi was intoxicated then, one taste of you and he was under a spell, falling deep below the surface of his own greed. he pushed your panties further aside as your legs spread wider, licking into you again, lips sucking on the bundle of nerves at the top.

your hands flew to his hair, fingers tightening at his roots, keeping his head in place. your voice was high pitched, still breathy and gone as you moaned out, “yes, so fucking good, baby.”

mingi melted at the praise, if he was motivated before there was no denying it now– his own head growing fuzzy as he ate. tongue licking stripes, dipping into your core, lips sucking around your clit: he felt like an animal. one finally eating after months of hibernation, his saliva mixed with your wetness covered his chin, listening as your moans quickened.

the tightening in your core was quick– so quick you almost couldn’t believe it. his tongue flicked your clit and you tugged at his roots harder, chanting, “right there, don’t stop, oh fuck–”

he listened as your tone heightened at the end of your instruction, he knew you were close, he needed you over the edge. he kept his rhythm steady, flicking at your clit at a repetitive pace and your moans grew until they got caught in your throat, hips shaking– he had you.

the pleasure in your abdomen was blinding as he pushed you to your high, it crashed over you in steady waves, your breathing had completely stopped somewhere in your long, dragged out orgasm. as you finally felt the aftershocks and your grip lessened on his hair your breath came back to you in deep heaves, every nerve ending in your body tingling, eyebrows knitted together and jaw slack without any sound.

“you did so good for me baby,” he cooed, then licked his bottom lip, scooping the wetness off his chin with his index finger and bringing it between his lips. you should feel embarrassed at the lewd display but you couldn’t find it in you– that orgasm was one of the best you’ve ever had, you didn’t have the time to with how quickly he was on top of you again, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“came hard, huh?” he teased, hands petting at your stomach then traveling up to your chest.

“mm, yes,” you moaned at the touch, octaves deeper now, “want you inside me.”

“let’s go to your room?” he pressed another kiss to your lips, palms rubbing along the side of your thighs. you nodded and he helped you up, quickly walking across the hardwood of your floor to your dimly lit bedroom. you mentally thanked yourself for leaving the lamp on your bedside table on.

you laid down on your perfectly made bed, still stripped down to your panties where mingi was still fully clothed. the change of environment brought consciousness back to you, cheeks flushing at the realization– you laid propped up on your elbows, “mingi, you have too many clothes on.”

he chuckled as he kneeled onto the bed between your knees, hands immediately reaching up to pull his shirt over his head by the collar. your lips parted as he revealed his abdomen, breath escaping your lungs. you immediately sat up to touch, his skin was soft and warm, toned and hard and sexy. you pressed kisses along his stomach as he kneeled level with your head, your hands trailing up his thick thighs as his came down to play in your hair again. your plan was to take your time, it was your turn to taste him, but he pushed you onto your back– “need to see you cum again.”

“wanna make you cum,” you argued even if his words made your abdomen clench.

he shook his head and then kissed your cheek, “next time, wanna make you feel good tonight.”

how could you argue with that?

he kissed down your jaw as both of his thumbs hooked under the straps of your panties, you lifted your hips so he could pull them all the way off. his hand quickly came to your center again, you gasped as he let a finger slip between your folds. still sensitive, you shuddered, hips backing off his touch. he followed them, finger pressing onto your clit, placing careful pressure before working it in a circle. you moaned, giving in, eyes softly closing– he pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet and the opposite to what he was doing between your legs.

he slipped a finger inside and you gasped, mingi took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, missing the way your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. he started pumping slowly, curling inside you until your lips stopped responding, too far gone in the feeling.

“come on, can’t have you going dumb before you get the real thing,” he teases with a smile, you crack your lids open just to whine and his smile grows– “this is just one finger, what will you do when it’s my cock? hmm?”

the teasing was nothing but added pleasure, moans flew from your lips as he hit the spongy spot inside you, making your entire body twitch. he giggles before adding another finger, you think he’s enjoying this way too much– if he could hear your thoughts, he’d agree. he curls them again, his pressure growing firmer, his thrusts getting faster. you could feel it again, the pit of pleasure steadily growing, your body getting hotter. your moans picked up, the filter leaving you again, eyes falling shut and jaw going slack.

“fuck,” you cried, “you’re– too fucking good at this,” you spoke between moans, hands flying to his bare, strong shoulders, gripping to hold you steady, keep you grounded.

“give me another,” he encourages, “open up for me, baby.”

you don’t know how much more open you could be– legs spread, bent knees pressed against his thighs, the strength of them effectively holding them open, restricting any movement. you could feel yourself clenching around him, but you couldn’t stop, the feeling of his thick fingers curling against you was too fucking good. the pressure grew heavier, pleasure pooling at the pit of your stomach, feeling as if soon you’d overflow.

“come on,” his voice was strained now, mouth hovering over yours, his breath floating from his lips to your own. “cum again, then you can have all of me. wanna feel you so bad.”

his words were enough to push you over, toppling beyond a ledge so high you began free falling, eyes screwed tight, breathless and brainless for even longer than the last time. you thought your body might begin steaming soon, with the heat of his own and the sheer pleasure he’s giving you– it was all too much. you were unabashedly moaning now, cries leaving your lips, the intimacy of having him so close to you was dizzying. your brain became mush a long time ago, the fog only worsening, blinding you as much as your orgasm did.

“yes, there we go, good fuckin’ girl,” his praise was like a prayer, “cum all over me, wanna taste it.”

oh– he was just as far gone as you. you scrambled for his waistband like your orgasm was no obstacle, “need you,” you whimpered, giving him no time to think as you yanked his sweats over his hips.

you needed to be closer, it wasn’t enough, you needed more. mingi didn’t argue nor hesitate, rolling his sweats off his ankles, “condom?”

you shook your head too fast for the responsible part of you to intervene. “got tested, just pull out.”

he tilted his head with an intake of air, “you trust me to pull out of this pussy?”

“fuck it, i’ll take the pill,” you decided, and somehow even more adrenaline coursed through mingi’s veins. his smile was wide as he threw his sweats to the floor, and your eyes widened at your view.

“holy shit,” you couldn’t hold it back, salivating at his length– rock solid, standing straight up against his stomach, pink and leaking and impatient, “i need you inside me now.”

firm fingers grabbed onto the flesh of your thighs, he leaned down to spit on your core, using his tongue to spread the wetness– not that you needed any extra help after two orgasms. “such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, could eat you every day.”

your hands grabbed for his length, one gripping him at the base as you spit on the other, meeting to spread your spit along him, mixing with the precum that dripped down his tip. he whimpered as you touched him, a beautiful sound, one you wanted to hear with him buried in the back of your throat. another time.

“take a deep breath for me,” he said as he lined himself up, your thighs laid atop his, body sprawled out beneath him. you obeyed, breathing down to the bottom of your lungs as he pushed in slowly, you both moaned at the same time, in the same way– relief.

“you’re huge,” you say, eyes screwed shut as he inches himself in, you weren’t sure if it was a compliment or a complaint.

“you can do it,” he responds with a cocky smile, “open up for me.”

again with that sentence, you supposed he meant relax for him. you beckoned your body to untense, starting from your fingers to your toes, your face to your hips, and he moaned in relief. “yes, just like that,” his voice was strained, eyes trained on your core as he sheathed himself at your base, the small tufts of hair at your base tangling as they met.

“so good, so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he let his head droop between his shoulders, forehead just a millimeter from yours, your hands reached up to cup his cheeks.

you whispered into his lips as you tilted his head up, “move.” you attached your lips to his as he pulled out and quickly realized that was a mistake, lips parting but unresponsive as he began rocking into you, filling you with every thick inch of him.

stressed moans poured into his mouth from yours, the pleasure was tantalizing– he filled you up perfectly, cock curved upward to hit that spot inside of you with every stroke– you immediately knew you wouldn’t last long. the pleasure from your two orgasms were nothing compared to what he felt like inside you: full and dripping, the noises that came from your meeting were embarrassingly wet. squelching, you couldn’t bother to blame the heat in your body on embarrassment– it was him, his body heat, the sweat forming on your forehead from the force of him as a whole.

you could get used to this. earth-shattering, it was, feeling yourself mold to his size, as if you were built to take him. your body rocked from the force, chest bouncing from his thrusts that grew harsher, moaning and whining and crying into his groaning lips.

“pussy so good,” he moaned, voice heavy and husky as your thoughts aligned, “it’s like you were made for me.”

“i was,” you respond with the strength of nothing but sheer will, “all yours, mingi.”

“fuck,” he groaned with a particularly harsh thrust, “say that again.”

“i’m yours,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders, “all fuckin’ yours.”

“‘m not gonna last,” he said, voice breathy as if he was holding back. he took a hand between your legs, two fingers working circles into your clit, “need you to cum for me.”

you arched your back into him, hips meeting his thrusts, the pressure beginning to build almost immediately. your brain was somewhere else, words blending together, “wan’ you to fill me up, mingi. make me yours.”

he whimpered, high pitched and unashamed, “gonna fill you up so good, baby. fill you up with my cum.”

you moaned into the shell of his ear as the pressure blew, rocking into you harder than his thrusts, your joints locking up and nails no doubt clawing shells into his shoulder. your moan was nearly a cry as you came around his length, clenching, squeezing him with everything you had– he followed right after, hips losing their rhythm, releasing small gasps as his hips came to a still, releasing into you.

you could feel the warmth as he unloaded, feeling fuller than you’ve ever been in your life. he fell onto his elbows above you, hips still flesh against yours, stomach heaving into your own, breathing into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. he took a moment before he pulled out carefully, rolling onto his side.

“you okay?” he asked, a hand searching for you, finding relief on top of your stomach.

you took a second to answer, dazed, eyes already fluttered shut. it was nothing more than a weak mhm that fell from your lips, and he responded with an innocent giggle. you could see him without opening your eyes, you knew he laid there with a lopsided grin and a moving chest, his eyes shaped like crescents. it brought a smile to your own face with an even weaker chuckle leaving your lips.

“let’s get you cleaned up, lover–” he placed a kiss on your cheek, but your eyes didn’t open– “shower or bath? … do you have a bathtub?”

a real laugh fell from your lips, it took every ounce of energy you had left. when you felt the slight trickle of him leaking out of you it shocked reality back into your senses, your eyes shot open. “oh shit– bath, carry me there?”

you were right: lopsided grin, heaving chest and crescent shaped eyes laid beside you, but he was quick to move, scooping you up bridal style, walking you to your bathroom. you sat on the toilet while he filled the tub, but he joined you in the hot water, a strong wall behind you as the water soothed the post-sex ache.

he kissed the top of your head from behind you– “i think this might be a bad time to ask, but we’re exclusive now, right?”

you smiled as your head fell to his shoulder, “yeah, baby, ‘m all yours.”

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mosspapi · 1 year ago

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My dad: joking about getting me an e-scooter to go to classes with

Me: ....

#like. how do I tell him that with the way my heart and energy levels and dizziness levels r rn. I genuinely feel I might need a wheelchair #like I genuinely can barely walk to the bathroom and all I did was go downstairs for a few minutes a couple hours ago. it's Bad.#my sitting heartrate has gone up from 90ish to 110. I can't stand for more than 5 minutes and I keep walking into walls n falling over.#they were not impressed when I got my cane in the first place and hate using my siblings temp wheelchair for them.#I can't imagine they actually want a child with a 'real' disability aid #armchair speaks #physically disabled

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dior-luxury · 2 months ago

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could i request yandere hcs for the vice dorm heads?!! since i saw yiy do yandere and im curious ^^

Yandere Dormleaders

( ✧ ) ────── yandere stories . yandere/angst - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] Yandere Themes (Obsession, Possessiveness, Emotional Manipulation) . Psychological Manipulation . Implied Isolation/Kidnapping . Mild Horror Elements . Dark Romance . Loss of Autonomy . Mentions of Surveillance/Controlling Behavior . Non-Physical Coercion . Angst and Unhealthy Relationships

Note: Sure, I could totally do that! I haven't written anything yandere in awhile, but this turned out good! (￣▽￣)

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle's obsession with you would be disturbingly proper. He wouldn't immediately spiral into madness; rather, his need to "correct" and "guide" you would bloom slowly, quietly wrapping its thorns around his heart.

You might not even realize it at first — the way he insists you "follow the rules" he writes specifically for you. Small things:

"You must report to me each morning."

"You must sit beside me during tea."

"You must not entertain any suitors without my approval."

He frames it as "for your own good," citing countless examples of how the world is too cruel, how others might taint or mislead you. At first, you might mistake his behavior for being strict or protective. He corrects your habits, scolds you for being careless with your health, forbids you from mingling with those he deems "unsuitable."

But over time, the punishments escalate.

Riddle is not above using his magic to enforce obedience. A single, sharp command — "Off with your head!" — and you’d find yourself paralyzed, dizzy, barely able to resist. He'd smile sweetly afterward, telling you he "only does this because he loves you so very, very much."

Isolation becomes a tool. He arranges your class schedules to match his. He ensures that Heartslabyul students monitor you under the guise of "house unity." Trey and Cater notice the change but say nothing — Riddle is their dorm leader. And besides, you always look so cared for, so properly dressed, so "happy," don’t you?

Behind closed doors, Riddle’s desperation festers. He fears your rejection more than anything. He fears your disobedience. His worst nightmare is you laughing with someone else, choosing someone else.

So he tightens his grip.

In private, he would kneel before you, his gloved hands trembling as they reach for yours.

"I cannot allow you to stray. I cannot endure a world without you by my side. You belong to me. You must understand that, won't you?"

If you try to run?

He has the entire dorm searching for you within minutes. And when he finds you — breathless, furious, terrified — his composure shatters.

Tears burn in his eyes, but his voice is calm, almost eerily so:

"If you do that again, I will make sure you never walk far enough to leave."

And somehow, horrifyingly, he still kisses your forehead afterward. Sweet. Gentle. Terrifying.

Yandere Riddle is a prison made of velvet and roses — a nightmare draped in politeness and ritual. You would forget what true freedom even feels like.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s brand of yandere is predatory — lazy, slow, but terrifyingly inevitable. He doesn't chase. He waits. And you realize too late that he's already set the trap.

At first, you think Leona barely notices you. He's dismissive, gruff, always sleeping. But behind those half-lidded eyes, he's watching. Calculating.

He doesn’t ask for your time; he takes it.

You find yourself summoned to his side often. Tasks, excuses, meaningless errands. He’ll tease you, order you around casually, “Be a good herbivore and fetch me some lunch, yeah?”

You think it's harmless until you realize: he only wants you doing these things.

No one else.

Leona isolates you subtly. Friends who get too close? He humiliates them with cruel, cutting words until they slink away. Teachers who praise you? He sneers, dragging you back to his side afterward, reminding you of who really understands you.

"You're not that special. They don't see it. But I do." "Stay where you belong, little herbivore. Right here. With me."

Jealousy turns him violent.

Smile at another guy? Leona’s hand is clamped around the poor fool’s collar before anyone can blink, growling low and deadly in his throat. He doesn’t always resort to physical fights — most back off when they see the glint in his eyes.

But make no mistake: if someone really threatens to take you away? Leona would not hesitate to use his magic to eliminate the problem.

He’s possessive in a way that feels ancient, animalistic. Sometimes he'll drag you to the gardens of Savanaclaw, sprawling on a sunlit bench, pulling you into his lap lazily — but with a grip that promises you won't leave.

His voice is low, rough, coaxing you like a predator comforting its prey:

"Don't bother struggling. You're mine. You're safer here than anywhere else. You don't need anything outside of me."

Leona demands loyalty. And if he ever suspects you want to leave — truly leave — he'll break you down, piece by piece, until you have no one but him left.

It’s suffocating but disguised as protection: "You think you can survive without me? Pathetic. But... tsk, guess I'll just have to teach you how much you need me."

In the end, you realize the cage isn't physical. It’s emotional.

Because somewhere in your mind, you start to believe it:

There’s no escaping the King of Beasts once he’s claimed you.

Azul Ashengrotto

At first, Azul’s obsession with you would seem almost charming — flattering, even. He’d approach you carefully, calculatingly, hiding his trembling excitement behind a mask of cold professionalism.

He’d offer you small favors first:

A free meal at the Mostro Lounge.

Help with your classes.

A luxurious study room, just for you.

All free of charge, he promises with a dazzling smile — only his eyes, glinting with greedy hunger, betray his true intentions. You don’t realize you’ve been ensnared until it’s too late.

Because when you finally need something serious — help passing an important exam, rescuing a friend from a mess — Azul is there. Waiting.

Contract ready.

“Just a small agreement, my dear. Nothing you can’t handle.”

In exchange?

Your time. Your loyalty. Your company.

He’s careful at first. You spend hours by his side under the excuse of “repaying your debt,” helping with paperwork, entertaining him during long nights at the Lounge. But Azul doesn’t want your labor. He wants your heart, your soul, your everything.

You’ll start noticing the chains tightening around you:

Students whisper behind your back, too afraid of Azul to approach you.

The Lounge employees "casually" follow you wherever you go.

Jade and Floyd are always just a little too close, their smiles sharp and strange.

Azul is subtle in his madness. You’ll never catch him forcing you to stay. He'll smile warmly, adjust his glasses, and say, "If you don't want to spend time with me... well, I suppose there will be some consequences. But it’s your choice, truly."

And then terrible things start happening to those who get too close to you. Scholarships revoked. Projects sabotaged. Rumors spreading like ink in water.

Azul would make sure you realize:

You are safest by his side.

If you ever tried to confront him, he’d sigh, looking genuinely wounded: "I have given you everything. Is it so wrong to expect a little... devotion in return?"

And if you ever tried to leave? Azul wouldn’t fight. He’d simply present the contract you signed, in front of the whole school, revealing the humiliating clauses you never thought he’d enforce.

You’d have no choice but to stay. Chained, legally and emotionally, to the cunning boy whose love for you has long since turned into something monstrous.

At night, he would sometimes whisper into your hair as you sit rigid beside him. "Even if you hate me, even if you curse me... you’ll always be mine, my precious pearl at the bottom of the ocean."

There’s no escape from Azul Ashengrotto. Not without drowning.

Kalim Al-asim

At first glance, Kalim would seem like the least threatening yandere imaginable. Warm, smiling, generous — he showers you with gifts, attention, affection. He genuinely loves you, body and soul, with the purity and enthusiasm of a child.

But that’s what makes him so terrifying.

Kalim doesn't understand boundaries. He doesn’t want to understand.

If you mention something you like in passing, the next day he presents it to you — a mountain of it. You say you’re cold once? He fills your room with dozens of silk blankets. You admire a bird outside? He commissions a golden cage and presents it to you, saying "Now you can keep it forever, just like me and you!"

At first, it’s sweet. Overwhelming, but sweet.

Until you realize Kalim’s kindness comes with invisible chains.

He insists on escorting you everywhere — “For your safety!” He buys out entire cafes so you can have “private dates” without anyone else around. He fills your calendar with lavish parties — but only he is allowed to dance with you, talk with you, look at you.

Kalim doesn’t tolerate sadness from you. If you seem upset, he panics — and smothers you in even more suffocating care, "Are you unhappy? Did I not give you enough? Tell me what to do! I'll do anything, just please smile for me!"

At first, it seems harmless. But if you ever try to assert independence — refuse a gift, decline a party — Kalim breaks down.

Tears streak down his cheeks. His voice shakes.

"Don't you love me? I love you more than anything. I gave you everything! I made everything perfect for you! Why are you trying to leave me?"

His desperation turns dangerous fast.

You’d find that no matter where you went, guards would be stationed outside your door. He’d smile and wave when you see him — acting like everything’s fine — but the locks on the windows would say otherwise.

And if you ever tried to leave the palace-like dorm of Scarabia? You wouldn’t get far. The desert outside is endless. The guards are loyal. And Kalim...

Kalim would run to you, hug you tightly like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, sobbing against your neck:

"Please don’t go! I’ll die without you, I swear! Please, don’t leave me alone!"

And you realize — Kalim’s love isn’t something you can reason with. It’s too pure.

Too bright.

So bright, in fact, that it burns.

You would live your life like a jewel in a locked treasury — polished, adored, loved beyond sanity...

And never, ever free.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s yandere nature is refined, elegant, and absolutely merciless. He would never scream or throw tantrums. He would simply reshape the world around you until you only belonged to him.

At first, you think Vil’s attention is flattering. After all, he’s Vil Schoenheit — a celebrity, a prince among commoners, shining brighter than anyone at NRC.

He corrects your posture, critiques your clothes, adjusts your diet — always speaking with soft, lilting authority: "If you're going to stand by my side, you must meet the standard."

You think he’s just trying to help. You’re wrong.

Vil doesn’t want you to be perfect for yourself. He wants you to be perfect for him — a polished jewel, an exquisite reflection of his desires.

Every aspect of you becomes a project under his meticulous control:

What you wear.

Who you associate with.

Even what you say and how you smile.

At first, it's subtle — invitations to exclusive parties where you're glued to Vil’s arm, makeovers disguised as "treats," mysterious disappearances of anyone Vil deems "bad influences." But soon, it escalates.

Vil’s jealousy is cold, like winter glass.

If anyone looks at you for too long, he’ll deal with them socially. A few poisoned words in the right ears, a whisper at the right moment — and your admirer finds themselves humiliated, shamed, utterly destroyed.

Vil won’t yell at you if you defy him. No — he’ll sit you down, pour you tea with a smile, and calmly explain exactly how your "disobedience" makes you look ugly, foolish, and unworthy.

"I chose you. I could have anyone, and yet I chose you. Don't waste my love."

And if you still resist? He uses Vil Schoenheit’s greatest weapon:

Your own self-image.

He'll slowly chip away at your confidence until you can't imagine a life without him.

"No one else could love you the way I do."

"Without me, you'd crumble. Don't embarrass yourself, darling."

There would be no chains, no cages. Instead, Vil locks you inside a gilded mirror, a reflection crafted perfectly to his standards.

And the most terrifying part? Even as tears stream down your face, even as your heart aches for freedom — Vil will kiss your forehead gently and say:

"Shh, my sweet. It's better this way. You belong in beauty — my beauty. Forever."

You'd forget who you once were.

Because in Vil’s world, only he decides who you are allowed to be.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s obsession is deep, feral, and terrifyingly personal. Unlike Vil, who dominates the outer world, Idia traps you inside an invisible, digital web you can’t escape from.

At first, Idia is barely noticeable — just a shut-in, a ghost in the halls, hidden behind his holographic screens. You assume he’s harmless.

But what you don’t realize is:

You caught his attention the moment you acknowledged him.

One glance. One smile. One kind word. That’s all it takes.

Idia’s obsession festers in the shadows. He doesn’t approach you openly — no, he stalks your social media, hacks into your class schedules, plants cameras and tracking devices so tiny you’ll never notice.

In his hidden room, lit only by neon glow, he builds an entire digital shrine to you:

Thousands of photos.

Recordings of your laugh, your footsteps.

Custom programs that simulate conversations with your voice.

He tells himself it's "not that creepy" — that he’s just protecting you. From the outside world. From cruel people. From yourself.

When you speak to him in real life, he stammers, blushes, barely meets your eyes. But behind the screen, he’s a god — controlling everything you see, hear, experience.

Your phone starts acting weird. Messages don't get delivered. Friends drift away after "accidents" they can't explain.

You start feeling isolated — and that's exactly what Idia wants.

When he finally, finally makes his move, it’s not with threats. It’s with desperation.

"You're so lonely, right? It's okay... I'll be your player two. We'll stay together forever in a world where no one can hurt us."

If you reject him?

He doesn't get angry — not at first.

He collapses, weeping, clutching at your sleeve like a child:

"Don't leave me... You're the only real thing I have... If you go, I'll— I'll—"

And then things get worse.

Idia uses every ounce of his intelligence — hacking systems, trapping you inside the campus itself. No transportation. No communication. You are trapped in his perfect, isolated paradise.

When you finally realize the true extent of what he's done — that every door is locked, every path leads back to him — you find him sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling with tears glittering in his sunken eyes:

"Game over. You belong to me now. Hehe... bad end, but at least we're together, right?"

You can scream.

You can cry.

But in the cold, humming, neon-lit tomb he’s built...

Only Idia can hear you.

Only Idia ever will.

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus’s obsession with you would seem almost... innocent.

He's so ancient, so powerful, and yet when he speaks to you, there's a kind of gentle wonder in his voice — like a lonely god marveling at the one star he can still see in the night sky. He doesn’t realize he’s becoming obsessed.

Not consciously.

He simply starts appearing wherever you are:

Strolling silently through your favorite gardens at midnight.

Standing by the windows of your classroom, gazing at you like a spirit unseen by others.

Whispering your name to the wind, letting his magic follow you like a loyal, invisible servant.

You might even feel special at first. Who wouldn’t, under the gaze of the prince of fae, the heir to Briar Valley?

But slowly, things shift. The weather darkens when you’re upset. Animals shy away from you — as if something ancient and predatory looms behind you.

You start to feel watched even when you're alone, even when you lock your door, even when you beg the darkness to leave you in peace.

Malleus is never cruel. He would never raise his voice at you. He would never strike you.

But his love is heavy. It bends the world around you like a star collapsing under its own gravity.

When you speak to others too long, Malleus grows silent. His emerald eyes narrow, his presence becomes chilling. Without lifting a finger, he commands the respect — and fear — of everyone near you.

Soon, others drift away, unwilling to risk the prince’s displeasure.

Malleus would never say, "you can’t leave me." He doesn’t need to.

Because he would reshape reality itself to bind you to him.

If you tried to leave Night Raven College, he would smile sorrowfully and ask, "Why are you running, child of man? There is nowhere in this world my wings cannot reach you."

If you dared to resist, Malleus would never rage. He would mourn.

He would weep thunderstorms into existence, each drop of rain a lament for the love you refuse to return. He would shroud the entire campus in endless twilight, time itself twisting under his grief.

"I do not wish to hurt you. I merely wish to protect you... from loneliness. From pain. From a world that will never love you as I do."

Eventually, Malleus would decide: The world doesn't deserve you.

He would spirit you away — to a palace of thorns and starlight, hidden in the folds of ancient magic. There, days would pass without end, each one a perfect golden cage.

You would be crowned beside him. A consort to the fae. An immortal beloved.

If you cried for your old life, your old friends, your old dreams? Malleus would hold you against his chest, humming a lullaby older than kingdoms, stroking your hair as you sobbed:

"Hush, my treasure. They are nothing now. Only we remain — as it was always meant to be."

Over time, even your memories would blur. The world beyond the palace would become a distant dream. And in the end, you would only remember his voice, his hands, his eyes — and the endless, inescapable love that burned like a black sun in the sky.

Because to Malleus, you are no longer mortal. You are no longer free. You are his.

Now, forever, and beyond the end of the world.

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Note

omg as a diabetic i've not really seen many fics about this but your fic was lovely!!! what about a diabetic read with the marauders )any ship or person) where they had a slightly nasty argument and she's not feeling well (sugar levels or whatever u decide) and she doesn't tell them because of the fight and comfort with sprinkles of angst ensue? it was just a thought, if you're up for it! <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: reader has diabetes, dizziness/lightheadedness, brief mention of blood, for anyone unfamiliar with diabetes the “meter” here refers to a blood glucose meter which reports blood sugar levels

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You seem to have inadvertently laid claim to the sitting room. Sirius stalked off into the kitchen and hasn’t come back, and Remus is down the hall avoiding the pair of you, as he’s taken to doing whenever you and Sirius argue. He might come talk sense into you if it were really serious, but Remus has had his own share of domestic squabbles with both of you; he leaves you to sort this one out by yourselves.

A few minutes ago, through the smog of your anger, you recognized a feeling of wrongness. The timing is uncanny. Sirius had only just gone into the kitchen when you realized you needed to be there yourself. Now, even if you could brave the iciness of your boyfriend’s rancor, you don’t think you could stand to get what you need in front of him.

The second you reach for one of your glucose-boosting shakes, Sirius will know your blood sugar is low, and then you’ll be a victim to him.

Or not a victim, necessarily, but someone in need of care. Someone he has to look after, and who he can’t be angry at, and that’s not fair to him. Even if you do want to stop fighting, you don’t want to win that way.

But a few more minutes of doing nothing and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand properly from this couch.

Remus peeks into the living room. Finding only you, he comes over.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, sitting beside you. He means your argument; Remus is perceptive, but he’s not that good.

“Yeah.” You loose a breath. “He’s so stubborn.”

“So are you,” he says, not without fondness.

“But I’m right.”

Remus hums and kisses the side of your head. You try not to melt too obviously; your head is starting to ache from the drop in blood sugar, and you really are beginning to feel somewhat pitiful. “If I tell you something,” he murmurs, “you have to keep it a secret.”

You look at him, intrigued. “What?”

Remus’ lips give a slight tug. “I agree with you.”

You grin, smug and extremely vindicated. Remus holds up a hand.

“But,” he goes on, “I think you should apologize to him.”

Just like that, your smile dissipates. Your headache feels like it’s getting worse. “Why?”

The look Remus gives you is kind, but tinged with bemusement. “You were harsh with him, sweetheart. I understand being upset, but you didn’t need to lay into him the way you did. It was only a small thing.” He lowers his voice. “I think he might not have dug his heels in quite so deeply if you’d only asked him nicely.”

You frown, guilt and irritation warring within you. “He’s always stubborn. It doesn’t matter what I say.”

“It matters,” says Remus. “Listen, I can’t know for sure, but I think if you apologized to him, he’d apologize back. And maybe then you could find an agreement about the whole thing.”

You sigh, letting your weight sag into Remus’ side. Your hands are starting to tremble in your lap. “I’d rather just tell him you think I’m right,” you say.

You hear the smile in Remus’ voice as he kisses your head again. “I know.”

You manage to stand without teetering. Remus waits in the sitting room while you go to the kitchen, where you find your boyfriend eating frosting broodily out of a tin. He spares you hardly a glance as you come in, sucking his spoon clean.

“I didn’t mean to be harsh,” you say softly.

Sirius scoffs. “Didn’t stop you.”

“I didn’t realize I was being so harsh,” you amend. Even as you do, it’s hard to keep the bite from your tone. You know that you’re particularly irritable when your blood sugar is low; however, knowing that doesn’t actually make you feel any less irritated. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius shakes his head. He’s still looking at the cabinets rather than at you. “Just because I don’t do things the way you want me to doesn’t make me completely incompetent.”

This apology might take longer than you bargained for. You set a hand on the counter as a wave of dizziness passes over you. Maybe you can drink your shake while apologizing? But Sirius is standing between you and the fridge.

“I wasn’t trying to call you incompetent,” you say through the fog that’s descending over your consciousness.

“That’s sure what it sounded like,” Sirius bites out.

“Well, I don’t think you are. I just…I think I’m in a mood, and I’m saying things I don’t mean. I’m sorry.”

It’s a rare enough admittance from you that Sirius looks over. One of his dark brows is half quirked, intrigue palpable.

“Really?” he asks.

“Really.” It feels like a weight off your shoulders; you think you physically slump. “I still think I’m right, but I shouldn’t have been so mean. Not,” you add, unable to help yourself, “that you were very nice to me either. But I started it.”

A corner of Sirius’ mouth kicks up. “You did start it,” he agrees, softening. “I’m sorry, too. For not being very nice.”

“It’s okay.” You try to smile back at him, eyeing the fridge. “Um, could I…I need the fridge.”

He laughs, stepping aside. “Awe, that’s my darling girl. She’s feigned an apology because she’s hungry for lunch.”

“Ha ha,” you reply drolly.

As you step around him, Sirius palms the back of your neck, pulling you in for a brief kiss. You wish you could appreciate it better. You’re starting to feel rather unsteady, your lips tingling without the warmth.

“Hey,” he says.

You open the fridge, pushing condiments aside and reaching towards the back. Sirius sets a hand to your lower back.

“Baby. You’re sweating.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, closing the fridge. You see him register the bottle in your hand, and you try to affect an expression of insouciance as you screw off the cap. “Just a little low.”

“You’re low? For how long?” Sirius is gripping you with both hands now, one on your waist and the other at your elbow. He seems afraid you’ll keel over; you wish it were a less founded fear. “What’s your blood sugar at?”

“Not sure,” you admit quietly. Your meter is in here, too, just behind where Sirius is standing. You sip your shake, nearly draining the small bottle. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be good soon.”

“Sweetheart.” Sirius’ brows bend, worry and bafflement warring in his expression. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Because it’s fine.” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t want us to stop fighting just because of that. You were angry with me for valid reasons.”

“I’m still angry with you,” he says, making you look at him in surprise, “but now for completely different reasons. What were you thinking?”

His raised voice attracts Remus, come now to keep the peace.

“It wasn’t a big problem,” you try to reassure Sirius. “I had it handled.”

“Staying away from what you need just because I’m upset is not handling it, baby.”

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, looking between the two of you bemusedly. It’s not like Sirius to use sweet names when he’s angry, or like you to be so defensive after you’ve agreed to patch things up. “Have you managed to start another row already?”

“Her blood sugar is low, and she wasn’t going to do anything about it because she thought I was angry with her,” Sirius tells him.

“You were angry with me,” you say.

Remus looks at you, his eyes skimming you over quickly. “How low?” he asks.

Sirius crosses his arms. “She doesn’t know.”

You let out a breath, starting to feel teary. Another argument, on top of your headache and dizziness and the general weariness of your physical form at the moment, is too much.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. “I knew I was low, I was already handling it.”

“Of course it matters, lovely,” Remus replies, disappointment permeating the usual kindness in his tone.

He finds your meter behind Sirius, opening your small kit and putting in a new test strip before taking out the lancet. You let him prick your finger, throwing your empty shake bottle in the trash. Your meter beeps when it gets the reading.

“Oh,” Remus sighs. “Alright. That’ll come up now you’ve had your drink.”

“I know it will,” you mutter.

“Hey.” Sirius all but traps you in a hug, his arms pushing underneath yours and squeezing you harshly. “Don’t do that. Okay? Please.”

You feel yourself soften. One of your hands comes up to stroke the ends of his hair where it falls between his shoulder blades. “You don’t need to worry,” you say.

“Oh, piss off. Try and stop me.”

“I saw you shaking,” Remus admits, his voice soft. You look at him, surprised, but he meets your guilty expression with a half smile. “I only thought it was because you were upset. It’s an odd thing to keep secret from us, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret.” You tuck your chin into Sirius’ shoulder. He gives your back a couple of firm rubs before pulling away. “I just didn’t want you to feel like…like you needed to look after me.”

“Too bad,” Sirius says, stubbornly. “We’re going to look after you anyways. Shocked you wouldn’t know that already.”

Remus smiles. He sets a hand to your back, soothing it back and forth between your shoulder blades. “He’s right,” he says. “No matter who’s upset, please don’t hide these things from us. It’s important that we know.”

“Okay,” you mumble, chastised. “Sorry.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Two apologies in one afternoon. Christ, you really must be feeling poorly.”

Remus chuckles. “Should we sit for a while? Give you time to come up.”

“Sure.” That sounds amazing, actually. Even with the glucose working its way into your system, you’re still finding it difficult to stay on your feet. You start back towards the sitting room. “Thanks.”

“Oh, my poor baby.” Sirius wraps his arms around you from behind, forcing you to take small steps to accommodate him. “You’re still shaking, sweet girl.”

“This,” you say, “is exactly what I didn’t want.”

Sirius laughs. He lets you go so you can sit before flopping down beside you, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Maybe next time,” he suggests, “you can be honest with us from the beginning, and I’ll let you be a bit choosier about what reaction you get.”

1K notes · View notes

reidrum · 5 months ago

Text

hypothalamus

note: this is just me reidsplaining neuro i fear. and being horny. sorry? inspired by my real life final that i so bravely studied for without spencer's help </3

summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, fingering, p in v sex, heavy praise kink, neuroscience jargon

wc: 2.3k

apologies in advance if it sounds too sciencey it is unfortunately the side effect of a woman in stem. bunsen burner! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

The dry erase marker crumbs stick to your hand as you angrily erase the whiteboard again, internally groaning as you restart drawing your diagram hopefully correctly this time. It’s not. After another few failed attempts you slump back in your chair and huff out in frustration, too deep in your sulk to hear the front door open.

“Hey I’m home!” Spencer calls out, bending down to remove his shoes.

“In the study.” you grumble out, a surprise he even heard you when he walks in a minute later. His gaze softens as he takes in the scene. Your notes strewn across the table, your whiteboard dark with marker smudges that match the side of your hand in which you used to erase it. The exhaustion clear as day on your face and the hint of defeat in your eyes is enough to draw him closer to you.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” he says softly.

You sniffle, not exactly crying but the stress was bringing you to the brink, “S’nothing, just trying to study and it’s not working. Feel dumb.”

He sighs and rounds the desk, sitting on the edge and reaching for your hands as he looks down at you, “What did I tell you about saying things like that?”

“To not to.” you mumble.

He laughs softly, “Well, yes. But it’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You were just explaining all of this to me yesterday.”

You whine, “I know and it feels like I forgot it already!”

“Maybe you just need to approach it differently,” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Your whiteboard isn’t helping?”

“No,” you sigh, “I keep drawing it wrong and it’s frustrating me.”

The despair in your voice makes his heart ache, and all he wishes is to be able to take it away. Spencer remains deep in thought before something clicks in his mind, you see the shift in him but you’re unable to discern what epiphany he’s reached. His eyes sparkle with mischief as his entire demeanor changes, “I think you might need a different type of visual.”

Your eyes squint in confusion before you realize what he’s getting at, and you can’t help but laugh. “You’re not serious? This is a joke, right?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, “Humor me.”

The laughter dies down on your tongue as you take in and consider the very intentional nature of his words. “How so?”

“You’re studying brain structures right?” you nod, “Okay well, what better way to study than with some active learning?”

You couldn’t look less convinced. Spencer chuckles, reaching for your hand to switch places with him so he’s seated on the chair. You move forward hesitantly, he holds a hand out to gently pull you closer while using the other hand on your hip guides you onto his lap. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, arms slinking around his neck.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You soften, “Hi. Are you sure this isn’t a ruse to get me in bed?”

“Oh come on, we’ll kill two birds with one stone. A lot of the hypothalamic functions are very important during intercourse,” he trails his fingers up and down your side, “You’ll get to study with a real life application and relieve some of your stress.”

You move your hips slightly, smiling when you feel him harden beneath you at the simple movement, “Alright, I’m game.”

He matches your grin and presses a kiss to the base of your jaw, “Need you to help me with my pants for this to work, baby.”

The soft kiss already sends you into a dizzy fit, nodding mindlessly as you scoot back to allow yourself space to work on undoing his belt and zipper. You aren’t even sure what his plan is, but if it keeps him talking to you like that you’re afraid there might be nothing you won’t do for him. Spencer’s eyes are focused on you while yours are focused at your handiwork, unable to resist slipping a hand in and palming him through his boxers.

“Ah—h baby, not yet.” he hisses at the contact, reluctantly removing your hand, “S’about you remember? We’re studying. So, tell me something about the thalamus.”

“Okay, the thalamus functions as a relay center for both sensory and m—oh—tor functions.” you moan feeling his lips attach to your neck, slowly marking a path down the slope of your nape with chaste kisses.

He looks up at you briefly, smiling smugly, “Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

You clear your throat as he continues his descent towards your shoulder, motioning for you to lift your arms so he can take off the shirt you’re wearing. His lips immediately reattach before he stops in place once more, brown eyes peering up at you knowingly amid your silence.

“R—Right, so there’s a structure called the lateral geniculate nucleus, fuck.” you curse feeling him suckle a hickey into the crease of your neck.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, “And what does it do?”

His lips descend further down, teasing the lace edges on your bra. You yelp as he nips playfully, “It um, it helps send um…visual stimuli to the brain, right?”

A wicked grin spreads on his face, “That is right, smart girl.” His fingers trace the outline of your bra to the back where he expertly unclasps it, letting it fall to the floor. “You keep getting it right, and I’ll reward you each time, yeah?”

You nod hypnotically, eager to please him and seek his rewards. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him latch onto your breast, letting his tongue swirl around the peak of your nipple and feeling it harden under his touch. You tighten your arms around him as he latches onto the other breast, moaning softly as he makes sure to give it the same special attention.

You grind your hips down and he lets out a low groan, arm tightening around your waist, suspending your movement. “Can’t do that, sweetheart” he strains, “You gotta earn it.”

Another whine leaves your throat, dropping your head to his neck. He really wasn’t making this easy. “Okay, so ask me something else then.”

His nose brushes up the length of your neck before his hands reach for the notes behind you, “Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

Before you get a chance to think about the answer, you’re distracted by his wandering hands again. Only this time, they’re going down towards where you really need him.

“Spence,” you say breathlessly, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure for a moment.

“Nuh uh,” he pauses his ministrations, “Answer first, reward second. I told you the rules, don’t make me repeat it.”

You whimper and Spencer almost folds—almost. But for the sake of your education, and definitely not the way you look perched on his lap, he treks on.

He does feel a little pity and decides to show you a bit of mercy when he motions for you to lift up slightly so he can pull your pajama shorts all the way off.

“That feel better?” he whispers, hot breath fanning your face. You nod hastily. “Okay then. Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

“Um…the anterior nuclei is responsible for—“ your breath hitches as his finger traces the edge of your panties. “Memory, right? Hippocampus.” you rush out.

You feel him smile and nod, “Correct,” his finger hooks onto the fabric and pulls it to the side, the cold air not even hitting you before he swipes through your folds.

Your head drops to his shoulder as you let out a shuddering sigh, peppering kisses up his neck as his fingers provide the much needed attentiveness you needed. He chuckles softly, “Just relax. You’re doing good, pretty girl.”

He helps you remove your underwear, maneuvering you so he can smoothly slide them off your legs. His fingers collect the slick and glides up to circle your clit, grinning when he hears you whine loudly. He continues to move across your pussy before retracting his finger while you let out a soft whimper. You’re about to protest when you see the intention of his removal, watching his hand slip below his boxers to gently pull himself out. He gives himself a few pumps before laying flat against his body, guiding your hips so your cunt is flush with the topside of his dick.

He holds your hips down preventing you from moving, “Hypothalamus?”

The cock drunk state is getting to you and he’s not even inside you yet, “It’s a um…it regulates…stuff.” you trail off, his lips returning to your neck.

He sucks another hickey onto your neck, licking over it and pulling back to gently blow on it. “Not good enough,” he whispers, “Try again.”

You whimper, “Okay—Okay, it sends signals for…sympathetic response—fight or flight” the end of your voice lilting up as he begins to move your hips.

“Keep going.”

The sensation of your cunt sliding up and down his length is enough to send you into delirium, and you’re honestly impressed you’re still able to speak. “It also does,” you take a deep breath for regulation, “It signals appetite and eating…and…”

He slides you forward enough so the tip of his cock is barely breaching your entrance, “One more, pretty girl.”

You rack your brain as you try to force yourself to focus, and not think about the way his tip is stretching your opening, teasing you relentlessly. The answer comes to you in a lightbulb moment, “Intercourse,” you moan, “releases hormones for sex.”

Spencer grins again, “Good girl.”

He lifts your hips a little, and the shift in angle is enough to fully slide himself inside you, the feeling causing you both to moan in tandem. The stretch of his cock inside you splits you apart beautifully, making you feel so full.

You whine his name again as you try to move, getting louder when you realize his hands are still clamped to your side, holding you square in place, “Wanna move, please.”

“Oh baby, you know I love it when you use your manners,” he touts, pressing kisses up your chest, “One more question and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You nod quickly, waiting impatiently for his last question.

“Tell me the two hormones made in the hypothalamus.” he whispers against your skin.

“I know one is antidiuretic hormone…” you breathe out shakily, “But, there’s one more I can’t remember.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” his hands slowly begin to guide you up and down on him, a languished moan leaving your throat. The feeling of him pushing against your cervix is so detrimentally distracting, like all you’re focused on is the pure euphoria your body is chasing. It’s clouding your judgement, your senses. It’s all consuming as the pleasure spreads throughout you.

Wait.

Oh.

Spencer seems to sense that you’ve reached an answer and thrusts up into you, “Ah—Knew you’d get there. What is it, baby?”

You let out a sharp gasp before answering, “Oxytocin.”

He doesn’t give a verbal praise but his face splits into a wide grin, finally loosening the grip on your hips and allowing you full reign to chase your peak. You brace yourself on his shoulders and increase your pace, his hands returning to your sides facilitating your movements.

“Such a smart girl you are, baby,” he coos, “Taking me so well and getting all the answers right?”

“Spence…”

“You’re just so good, angel. My beautiful, intelligent girl,” he continues to praise, feeling you clench around him, “My good girl, isn’t that right?”

Any and every neuronal connection in your brain is fried at this point, melded down to nothing but atoms at the hands of Spencer Reid, clearly reveling in your fucked out state as evidenced by your incoherent babbling. His hands grip your sides tighter and pulls you harder when you sink down, the sound echoing throughout the study.

“ ‘m close,” you mumble as you slump into his shoulder letting him fully takeover. He stills his movements for a second before standing up with his hands under your legs to sit you on the desk in front of you. Your hands detach from his shoulders and hold you up from behind as you lean back and let Spencer pull your body towards him.

He continues to fuck into you, the new position allowing him better control for calculated thrusts and a faster pace. Words don’t exist in your lexicon anymore and you hope he can understand your babbles as you attempt to communicate with him that your orgasm is about to overtake you entirely.

He knows, obviously, because it’s you. He slides a finger down to your clit to further drive you to the edge, leaning down to whisper, “Come for me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

With a high pitched whine you crash into your peak with the full force of your body, vision temporarily going white before returning in splotchy spots. Spencer comes not too far behind you, fucking the last of his come into you before stilling completely.

You both pant heavily as you try to catch your breaths, and Spencer leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. “You alright?”

“I think you fucked me dumb.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Actually, I think I fucked you smart.”

You swat his shoulder lightly and laugh, “That was so bad.”

He smoothes your hair back before gently pulling out, using your discarded shirt to clean you up a bit. His lips press a kiss to forehead, then your nose, both cheeks, before landing on your lips kissing you deeply.

You pull back suddenly, “Wait, I still have like, five more sections to review.”

Spencer’s wicked grin returns. “Well, we better get to work.” He effortlessly picks you up from the desk as you giggle and wrap your legs around him. He reaches the bedroom and delicately tosses you on the bed, looking down as he stands over you at the edge.

“Gotta make sure you get that A, pretty girl.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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hyuckmov · 7 months ago

Text

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?"

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere."

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams.

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs.

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on.

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go.

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin.

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him.

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung.

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd.

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye.

"jisung?"

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan.

"yeah?"

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?"

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy.

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?"

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too.

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer.

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve.

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself.

"haechan…" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly.

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other."

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs.

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…"

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think."

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness.

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not."

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?"

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course."

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her."

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like."

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more.

you were in the crowd today.

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted.

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me?

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper.

"haechan?"

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me."

oh.

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?"

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you.

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile.

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to.

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?"

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine.

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about.

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something."

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?"

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails.

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?"

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms.

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for.

–

you don't know how you ended up here.

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss.

"hyuck?" you murmur.

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing.

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough?

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes.

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?"

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again.

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…"

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly.

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies."

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers.

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can.

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest.

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you.

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends.

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark.

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass.

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly.

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile.

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm.

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life.

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain.

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–"

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow.

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —"

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips.

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly.

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand.

but he doesn't respond.

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly.

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?"

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here."

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you.

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out.

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance.

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly.

his smile blooms.

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing."

"that's cruel," you mumble.

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…"

"and would he tell you?"

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in.

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes.

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling.

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship."

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know."

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him –

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you.

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this."

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?"

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this."

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?"

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing.

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist.

"slow down!"

you'd know that voice anywhere.

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened – the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face.

he raises his eyebrows.

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard.

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question.

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?"

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream."

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile.

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time.

—

"we need to talk."

there was something wrong with haechan.

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them.

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing.

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly.

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly.

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again."

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests.

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right.

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes. "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again.

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more."

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes.

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore."

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy."

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time.

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break."

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't."

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —"

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister."

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in.

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone."

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand.

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that."

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —"

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on."

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?"

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?"

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you.

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him.

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves.

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?"

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know."

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?"

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it.

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time.

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all.

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door.

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door.

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again.

he's relieved he did.

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in.

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones.

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take.

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow.

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?"

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else."

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges.

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely.

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once.

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison.

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight."

you still.

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —"

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders.

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…"

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste.

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?"

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go.

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this."

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression.

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…"

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away.

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands.

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head.

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late."

"hyuck, listen to me."

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that."

his fingers falter, but he stays silent.

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?"

he looks up then. "really?"

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it."

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe.

since when did you start feeling safe with him?

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss.

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?"

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore."

there's a pause.

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please."

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles.

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?"

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?"

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears.

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me."

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep."

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath.

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now, hanging onto your every word.

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away.

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do."

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him.

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest.

"it's been awhile," you murmur.

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –"

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft.

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts.

"everything okay?" he murmurs.

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now."

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him.

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair.

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger.

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud.

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside."

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core.

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands.

"have you been fucking anyone else?"

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please."

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…"

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you."

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good."

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name."

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg."

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…"

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself.

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun.

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex.

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more.

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him.

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming.

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face.

he looks at you, and you look at him.

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again.

"you alright?" he mumbles.

you nod.

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile."

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze.

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?"

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel.

"can i take you somewhere?"

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand.

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way.

"you good?" he murmurs.

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real.

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?"

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along.

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-"

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand."

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?"

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head.

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine.

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-"

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous.

"yeah?"

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet."

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself.

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands.

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat.

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-"

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms.

"hyuck."

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined.

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly.

"what?"

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again."

"hyuck, was this a date?"

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do."

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me."

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life."

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head.

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?"

there's silence.

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me."

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either.

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance.

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him.

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep."

"you are," he breathes.

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?"

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future.

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers."

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version.

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

#haechan smut #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #donghyuck smut

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simonz-angel · 6 months ago

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nerdy!baby boy simon wit a lil leash… ✋🤚

listen in wit me : 3:16am by jhené aiko

his glasses fog, heavy pants puffing up into his glass till his vision impairs through the lens. he can barely breathe, nose buried against the sweet beating bud of your rosy clit.

and he breathes you in, panting into your slick cunt when his tongue stretches, rolling out till his throat burns in strain. he’s so desperate to taste you all, taste what lays deep, to hit what’s deep.

and you tug him by the pretty collar strapped tight around his throat. it’s a nice leather, aged in a dark brown with a thin stream of black lace across the middle. it’s sweet, fitting for the man.

yet simon’s not ready, hands slapping at your hips to ground himself, and his tongue retracts back into his mouth, suddenly spluttering with the tight pressure. he’s flushed, glasses slipping down the tight apex of his thin nose, eyes batting and watering as he struggles to catch up with his racing heart, head dizzy with the lack of oxygen.

you don’t let up though, tugging at the leash to forcing him to crawl up your body to refrain from the ache in the back of his neck. “too much for you, hmm, pup?”

he breaths out a whine nodding, wet lips gliding across your collarbone in sweet kisses, nipping and sucking the soft sheen of sweat off your skin.

“s’lil pathetic, baby, can’t even eat some pussy for more than a few minutes without needing a break,” you laugh, patting at the back of his condescendingly before you’re soon pushing him back down your body.

and he puffs shaking his head, the veins in his neck dented by the tight fit of leather. you start to think the lack of blood flow what’s got him so dumbed down. and his stringed up sentences have you laughing softly.

“i- i can do it, wanna… needa make you feel good, mama,” he breathes out, tongue delicately tracing over the puffy folds of your pretty cunt just to get you on edge slightly. “l’be your good boy… promise.”

might needa log off after this.. also thank you to my lil commenter for this sweet idea (not sure if i should tag 😉)

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ellxio · 9 months ago

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✭ contains: malexmale, bottom male reader, ocxmale!reader, smut, vampire!reader, blowjob, fingering, grinding, semi!public, overstimulation.

w.c: 2.1k

Being a half-blood was hard, adapting to a human life is easier said then done, adjusting to daily needs such as water, food and 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽. Wandering around because you couldn't sleep and wanted to explore the area near your apartment and because of the chilly yet comforting breeze of the night. But that was the very sole reason for ending up in this exact situation.

An h/c haired male could be seen, pushed infront of a bricked wall, face smushed between the wall and a soft but defined chest of an unfamiliar male.

"I'm so sorry..please let me-"before you could say anything, you were roughly turned around, now having a clear view of the man you might or might have not started beef with.

The guy had a very sharp and defined jawline, messy blonde hair, and red captivating eyes, you immediately flushed in embarrassment from the close contact and also the alluring male infront of you. Immediately avoiding his gaze and a surprised reaction was achieved from you, licking a long stripe on the side of your neck, shivering from the sensation "You taste good.." he said lowly "what do you-"

The unknown male roughly kissed you, asking for an entrance, but you being you, did not let the male do so, saving your sanity and dignity. That didn't satisfy the blonde male and slipped a leg between yours and gently yet impatiently grinded his leg, earning surprised gasp's and whines from you

Your legs slowly turning into jello having no choice but to grab the male infront of you and to reciprocate the kiss. As minutes passed the kiss got more intense and the grinding got more rougher, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and just when you felt like you would pass out, the guy separated from you, a string of saliva connecting from your bruised lips.

"What a perv.." The male chuckled, shamelessly staring at your bulge, the guy pulled you closer, turning you around again pulling your joggers just below your ass, tears prickled your eyes, feeling humiliated and defenseless "H-..hey, what is your problem!?" You asked the male, panting lightly, nervousness could be heard from your voice. "You act as if your not drooling precum..look, isn't he cute??" He said as he grabbed your hard shaft, your face burned in embarrassment and shame. he sure wasn't lying, your tip was literally drooling loads of precum, he wouldn't admit it but it sure did turn him on..and just as he was about to tease you more, an unknown voice called out to the secluded alleyway "Hey!! who's there?!"

You froze in fear feeling a wet sensation on your ass, you peered at the male behind you, and was faced with a mischievous smile and he suddenly plunged two fingers inside you

"hmph.!" you bit your lip, muffling the unfamiliar sound, the weird sensation making you feel hot and dizzy not noticing that the unfamiliar male left awhile ago. Just when you were about to burst, the blonde male stopped, earning a soft whine and a gasp from you

Hurriedly pulling your pants back on and dragged you to the nearest public bathroom, which was literally next to a grocery store.

Pushing you in one of the stalls and hungrily kissing you, pulling you closer by the hips and grinding both of your clothed shaft's "H-hey.. mngh..can we slow down for a bit..?" You breathlessly said, turning your head to the other side "..fine"

Pushing you unto your knees and unzipping his jeans. The sight made you nervous, he was very thick and long, a pinkish tip decorated with veins "open wide" he said with a smirk. It didn't seem right but it felt sooo right. You shouldn't be doing it. Yet your body was behaving as if it was in some kind of heat- like mode. You were sweating, having a hard time breathing and, not to mention, you couldn't take your eyes off the guy's crotch. His thick, veiny cock was so damn alluring that it made your mouth water. You sat down on the ground, Welcoming the stranger's dick in your mouth, your taste buds was filled with salty precum, his musk making you even more dizzy and thirsty, this led to you now having a hard cock in front of your face... or, to be more precise, deep in your mouth, as the blonde quickly attacked, shoving his whole length into your throat. The salty precum continuously poured itself down your throat. It was so intense. Then the blonde began to fuck fast and without any mercy for you. Tears continuously dripping from the humiliation and pleasure.

Gags, slurps, moans and grunts could be heard from the stall "Shit..you sure you haven't.. ngh.. done this before?" The male asked, his cock spitting out loads of precum and the twitching indicated that the man was close to his climax "I'm close..y-you better take it all like the good boy you are.." he grunted, his thrust's now getting more rougher and feverishly

With one last hard thrust, your throat was filled with warm delicious cum, It took a minute for the man to finally stop cumming. Pulling away from his cock with a pop, gasping for air and also wiping the excess cum that dripped from the sides of your mouth, licking your finger's clean while maintaining eye contact with the blonde "please give me more" you said desperately, hungry for more of the attention or to be stuffed full

"You sick fuck" The blonde male chuckled in disbelief and excitement, pulling you on top of his lap, this new position you were able to see his face more clearly, a teasing smile framing his flushed face, his hands landed on your butt for a better stability. The blonde's tongue made itself comfortable inside your mouth, wrestling with your own or just exploring the whole area and taking your breath away. You closed your eyes, focusing mostly on the sensation coming from the touch of the unknown guy. Only now did you realize how pleasantly he smelled, you wanted to hide your face in his pale neck, "Nikolai.." he said lowly and as fast as lightning, he returned back to his cocky self, smirking "Better remember it so you can at least properly scream my name while i breed this ass full" you smiled and teasingly grinded your bare ass on his cock "m/n-" before you could continue, nikolai already had a firm grip on your ass cheeks and impaled you on his big, hard cock.

A choked moan came out from you and before you could comprehend what happened he roughly bounced you up and down, broken and loud moans spewed out of you like a chorus, a noticeable bulge could be seen just above your belly button, indicating that the male impaled you down his base. The male infront of you grunted from time to time, he resumed his movements and littered hickeys and bites all over your soft flawless skin

"You're so beautiful..so good for me" He said gently, but his actions didn't say so, your ass was already sore and reddish from the spankings, nikolai slowed down a bit confusing you "w..why did you stop?" he didn't answer and just turned you around, propping your arms on the toilet's tank as support, not a minute or so, Nikolai already continued his harsh brutal thrusts. Each thrust made you move forward, your dick rubbing the cold tank which made you drip more precum, moans and grunts echoed throughout the public restroom

It had only been an hour and your face was already a mess, drool, tears and even cum, tongue lolled out, your clothes was ridden up to your chest, nipples bitten and bruised, neck littered with bites and hickeys, your stamina was slowly running out. Countless times of chanting Nikolai's name making your voice hoarse, having difficulties in forming a coherent sentence "slow-..ngh..slow down pl-ease!~" you begged, feeling lightheaded and hazy but the male behind you, couldn't even notice what you were feeling because he himself was lost in a cloud "I'm close-Take it.. take it like the good boy you are" he grunted, his thrust's becoming more fastened and short as he was chasing his high. After a few more thrusts

plap plap plap

Nikolai buried himself as deep as possible and finally released his first batch of warm delicious cum. Stilling for a while thinking it was finally over, you slowly detached yourself from the male, but before you could

"Hey what do you think you're doing? we're not even half way through" The look on his face just proved you that he was saying the truth, but not a minute or so, his face contorted into shock, confused yourself; you felt something dripping down your nose, metallic and watery. The man interrupted your thoughts "How long has it been since you last fed?" the statement made you froze "what do you mean?" he scoffed "Your pale complex and eyes said so" before you could ask more questions, he pushed you back on the toilet seat and positioned himself "Feed while i continue my business" Nikolai said, firmly grabbing your waist presenting you his neck. The sight itself was already making you puke, but you were in no position to refuse such enticing smell, he tapped your butt "Go ahead" slowly, you sank your teeth into the blonde's neck and the taste— oh it was so delicious, your expression was so cute, tongue lolled out with drool escaping the sides of your mouth and eyes with heart, shaped pupils. Nikolai couldn't wait anymore and plunged his meat in one thrust, out of reflexes you wrapped your arms around the blonde's shoulder, and just like before, the male begun his brutal pounding.

After countless rounds, Nikolai was sweaty, remains of cum on his abs, biceps, neck and chest littered with bloodied bitemarks, and back with long scratches. You weren't doing any better, you looked like you were ravaged for 24 hours, hair messy, heart shaped pupils decorating your now hazy e/c, drool escaping your mouth, voice hoarse from the constant moaning, body layered with a thin amount of sweat and cum, neck littered with hickeys and bruises.

And with one last thrust "mngh!.." synchronized moans and grunts were heard as Nikolai filled you to the brim, with cum escaping your abused hole.

The both of you catching your breath, after a minute, Nikolai started cleaning you and dressing you both up. You couldn't even move properly, still twitching from overstimulation and mind still hazy because of being fed for hours.

Nikolai carried you bridal style, bystanders flushed in embarrassment and others with judgement looks was what greeted you both when you exited the restroom. A white car stopped infront of you, the driver opening it as you and Nikolai entered it. Upon being situated inside, the driver gave you both privacy by closing the privacy partition

"How are you feeling?" Nikolai asked you, giving you a water bottle. Nodding your head as a sign of gratitude, drinking the water, feeling relieved "I.. I'm good, tired. But nonetheless good.." You answered. The male hummed as acknowledgement and brought you closer to him "Where are we going?..you do know i live around the area back there, right?.." he chuckled "For a man who just got pounded awhile ago, you sure are talkative" he teased, you blushed in embarrassment and looked down "I'll fully take responsibility. Plus, leaving you to live by yourself will surely bring you trouble" feeling offended, you asked "Hey! what does that mean!" Nikolai chuckled and answered "I'll explain more when we get home. Now, rest up doll, you'll be needing it" Before you could retort more, he hugged you as a sign to shut up and rest since it'll prolly take awhile to get to you guys' destination. Lightly smiling and nuzzling closer to the blonde. Both of you in a calm and comfortable position as if the both of you didn't just ate each other awhile ago. From almost getting ran over, to ending the meeting with a soft and wholesome moment.

end

Dividers by: @anitalenia !!^^

Taglist: @kikizhly @darlingminjin @xx-fallen-angel-xx-blog @milkemim @strboyshfts @cocotiaw @n4muqr @literallyrousseau @ch1mmylvsduxo @cheezbot

Imma tag y'all cuz y'all my moots, feel free to untag yourselves if you want!^^

𝄞 . Please don't be afraid to criticize since i need it to improve my writing, thanks for reading and have and awesome day!! ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

#bottom male reader #uke male reader #male x male #top male character #xukemalereader #oc x male reader #vampire reader

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soaps-mohawk · 10 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened.

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness.

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl.

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something.

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her.

Her phone is gone.

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again.

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright.

There’s no help from the others.

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space.

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking.

Her phone is sitting on the desk.

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity.

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail.

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this.

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you.

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.”

“Was anyone following her?” She asks.

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.”

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders.

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you.

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She��s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now.

“Laswell.”

��Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence.

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused.

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.”

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files.

Now this.

“Kate?”

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.”

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.”

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence.

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands.

“I hope you’re right.”

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart.

She should call them, make them aware.

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files.

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first.

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find.

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened.

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long?

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you.

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it.

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you.

You know it’s not her behind it.

She tells herself that to make herself feel better.

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack.

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her.

That trust will be broken now.

She left you alone, and now you’re gone.

Or dead.

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them.

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks.

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure.

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure.

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true.

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up.

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you.

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone.

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it?

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly.

It’s all premeditated. All of it.

What if you’re out there distressing?

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do.

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem.

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment.

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long.

None of it is a coincidence.

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too?

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this.

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events.

Unless it goes even deeper than that.

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name.

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand.

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care.

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels.

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit.

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.”

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.”

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.”

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright.

Don’t let them find a body.

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch.

They’ll never trust her again.

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering.

“Kate?” Her voice shakes.

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself.

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.”

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.”

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better.

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues.

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel.

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you.

“At ease.” Woods says.

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.”

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says.

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says.

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says.

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says.

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says.

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her.

“Do they know?” She asks.

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.”

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says.

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.”

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone.

It’s not fair.

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment.

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding?

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing.

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.”

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight.

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.”

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe.

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body.

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin.

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack.

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position.

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety.

Especially if what she uncovered is true.

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures.

The last few hours have hardly felt real.

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her.

She still has a job to do.

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat.

“Kate, there’s nothing here.”

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard.

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says.

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her.

They’re all pawns.

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable.

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan.

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.”

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times.

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles.

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says.

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.”

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead.

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours.

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head.

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.”

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface.

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm.

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once.

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room.

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn.

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate.

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there.

“Good girl.”

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar.

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it.

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough.

It’s not your alpha.

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other.

Except the one in front of you.

Cedar. Dark Chocolate.

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable.

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor.

Your pack.

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha?

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you.

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right.

Nothing is right.

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you.

You know that face.

“There she is.”

You know that voice.

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be.

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together.

You know him.

It’s been years but you’ll never forget.

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin.

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief.

“Phil?”

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