#he looks like such a peaceful cutie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 18 days

Text

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth.

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen.

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur.

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!”

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.”

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right.

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.”

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words.

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever.

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.”

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.”

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument.

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.”

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see.

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress.

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation.

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person.

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.”

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.”

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.”

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly.

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.”

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.”

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.”

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!”

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head.

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.”

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her.

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna.

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.”

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.”

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.”

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.”

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night.

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event.

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.”

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.”

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.”

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you.

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles.

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.”

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…”

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.”

It all took one second — one mere second.

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly.

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.”

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.”

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.”

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.”

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now.

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm.

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.”

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear!

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet.

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed.

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…”

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion.

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!”

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves.

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.”

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you.

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm.

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer.

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues.

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well.

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously.

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair.

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being.

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina.

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl.

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half.

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear.

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes.

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood.

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you.

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth.

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression.

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.”

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.”

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine.

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself.

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.”

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!”

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!”

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men.

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

4K notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 2 months

Text

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked.

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind.

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst.

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself.

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat.

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks.

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits.

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans.

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him.

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is.

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house.

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away.

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.”

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.”

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly.

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off.

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart.

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers.

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together.

Taboo, even.

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just…

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span.

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag.

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day.

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things.

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall.

“What.”

“I worry sometimes.”

His gaze lifts. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to?

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.”

Someone like him? What does that mean?

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.”

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday.

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest.

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact.

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets.

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again.

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter.

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street.

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans.

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?”

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too.

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.”

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?”

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.”

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead.

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought.

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point.

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return.

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand.

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—”

“Course I don’t.”

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again?

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again.

What the hell is up with today?

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now?

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too.

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first.

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously.

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached.

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.”

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time?

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street.

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.”

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.”

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one.

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.”

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence.

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home?

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.”

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences.

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.”

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over?

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.”

Ah.

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!”

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk.

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting.

And he looks impatient as hell.

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived.

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?”

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second.

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question?

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks.

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it.

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”

Oh.

Why did… you kinda like that?

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.”

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence,

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi.

For a hardened soul, his name is so…

Tender.

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once.

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi.

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right.

Left seems promising.

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared.

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby.

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance.

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out.

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form.

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down.

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed.

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months.

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth.

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the…

Ambiance.

Wait.

Dragons. A lot of them.

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal.

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass.

…Yoongi?

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge.

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere.

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers.

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past.

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke.

And just like that, your reunion is over.

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling.

Shit.

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company.

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often?

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time.

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side.

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win.

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful.

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on?

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight.

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now.

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you.

What do you do? What even can you do?

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance.

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!”

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life.

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!”

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him.

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do…

This one thing…

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you.

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck.

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.”

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply,

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?”

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet.

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward.

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant.

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now.

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.”

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages.

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill.

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.”

Live with it. How poetic.

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor.

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps.

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling.

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe.

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs.

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down?

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same.

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.”

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now.

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?”

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit.

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought.

This is going too well.

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now.

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded.

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime.

Yoongi’s right.

You’re in it now.

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run.

You’re really doing this.

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go.

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front.

“Get back here!”

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns.

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine.

And he’s… enjoying this?

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees.

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit.

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!”

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between.

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck!

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes.

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face.

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life.

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no.

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is—

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd.

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?”

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.”

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside.

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in.

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear,

“Kiss me.”

“I said get out!”

“What?”

“Come here.”

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.”

Oh.

You were just… Oh.

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either.

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.”

…Huh?

Agust?

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun.

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight.

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes.

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever.

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey.

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that.

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck!

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day.

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts.

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory.

Did you both really make it this far?

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do.

Rest. Sleep. Home.

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three.

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not.

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.”

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it,

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right?

Right?

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop.

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it.

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for?

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up.

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again.

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all.

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive.

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district.

Han Station is a floating railway?

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head.

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward.

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head.

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore.

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name!

“Agust!”

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle.

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt.

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now.

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe.

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection.

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way.

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry.

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by.

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time.

Your tangerines…

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away.

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal.

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake.

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off?

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers.

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.”

We? Stay?

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.”

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?”

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.”

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.”

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.”

Mm.

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow.

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder.

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have?

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now.

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust.

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train.

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—”

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.”

“Understood.”

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling.

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with?

…Who exactly did you save?

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into.

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman.

Right before sliding doors shut the world out.

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#NEW YOONGI LETS GOOO #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

2K notes · View notes

bro-atz · 4 months

Text

the better man

in which: your roommate and your college friend both have feelings for you.

pair: college student!san/college student!afab!reader/college student!mingyu

word count: 14.8k

content: slight angst, a lot of drama, nicknames (cutie, baby), slow burn at the beginning, smut (obvi), jealousy, competition, cat vs dog, three different smut scenes omg, slightly drunk make out sessions, oral sex, (filthy as fuck) threesome, double penetration, safe sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: thank you @k-hotchoisan for helping me with the development of this entire fic! ilysm <3 also ik this fic is long as fuck but i couldn't help myself... two of my ults in the same fic? you bet your ass i'm going to make a whole kdrama! so grab your popcorn, sit back, and enjoy this insane ride (with the slowest burn of all time)

another world masterlist

YOU have had so many people tell you that you should never live with your friends because it'll ruin the friendship, but you and your best friend moving in together was honestly one of the best decisions you had ever made in your entire life.

San was the perfect roommate for you. The two of you balanced each other out well, and he was always super protective of you, which was nice because if you were ever in a situation where you needed rescuing, San was right there. The greatest part was that he didn't have feelings for you.

What you didn't know was that San had some feelings for you, but he chose to ignore them.

And one of the greatest things about San was that he always stayed up late if you were out with friends. He always made sure you came home safe. After all, roommates are supposed to be there for each other, right?

"Sannie, I'm home!" your voice echoed through the apartment. After hearing the words leave your mouth, you giggled, then said out loud, "Sannie sounds like honey..."

San, who was sitting at the kitchen countertop, looked up from his laptop, then looked at the time blinking on the stove clock. Two in the morning wasn't bad at all considering how drunk you were. San got up from the barstool and made his way over to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched, with slight amusement, you struggle to take your strappy heels off.

"Someone had a good night," he commented, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You went to look up at him, but you lost your balance and nearly fell over. Luckily, your roommate was there to catch you and help you keep your balance while you took off the other heel with a huge sigh of relief— your heels were killing you.

"I had a great night," you corrected him while stumbling through the threshold and into the living room. "Our club meeting was boring as hell, so I suggested we go to a bar and get a couple of drinks... One thing led to another, and I totally won at darts!"

"Really? You didn't take someone's eye out?" San couldn't help but snort

"You underestimate me, my dear friend."

You flopped into the smack-dab-middle of the sofa, San following you shortly thereafter into the living room. He at first remained standing, only to sit when you patted the empty space next to you. You hummed softly as you brought your limbs back together and rested your head on your roommate's insanely broad shoulders while he wrapped his arm over your shoulders. It was almost second nature at that point; San was so used to you being an affectionate drunk that he automatically prepared himself for you to cuddle into him.

"You're definitely going to have a hangover tomorrow," San said softly as he rested his hand on your forehead.

"Of course I will... But you'll be here to take care of me, so I'll be fine," you murmured while closing your eyes.

San couldn't help but smile. He rested his head on top of yours and listened to the sound of your peaceful breathing, thinking you were asleep. However, you were just resting your eyes, because seconds later, you were moving your head from his shoulder. You stared blankly at your roommate, your eyes running over all of his features. San looked at you with mild concern the longer you stared.

"What? Do you need to throw up?" he asked.

"No, that's not..." you trailed off.

You lowered your gaze and noticed a stray piece of lint on his chest. You picked the lint off then smoothed out his shirt, your hand brushing along his defined chest a couple times. Mindlessly, you rested your hand on his chest. Your hands were a little too numb from the alcohol swarming your system, so you (luckily) couldn't feel San's heart rate elevating.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" you asked as you began to draw lazy patterns along his chest.

"Every time you drink," San responded with a slightly annoyed sigh; he didn't like when you called him pretty. He didn't need a more masculine term or anything, but there was something about the word that icked him out.

"You're so much cuter up close... Like a cuddly bear... Or a Maine Coon..."

"A Maine Coon?"

"You're like a kitty cat, but you're so big... So you're a Maine Coon... You're my Maine Coon."

San's heart completely skipped a beat when you said he was yours. He was used to you saying things like that when you were sober, but this drunk version of those words were a little different this time around. The way you were looking at him, the softness in your voice— it brought the feelings he had buried for you right up to the surface.

"You definitely need to get some sleep," San chuckled awkwardly, trying to deflect whatever the hell was going on between the two of you.

"I know, I should... But I want to stay like this a little bit longer," you admitted while resting your head on his shoulder once again. "You're so soft and warm... Like a big cat."

"Really? I had no idea. It's like you didn't just say that," he replied sarcastically, making you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

"Don't make fun of me, Sannie."

"Okay, I'll stop. But seriously, I think you should go to bed now."

"Not yet. I still wanna cuddle."

Slumping his head in defeat, San let you settle into him a little more. With his free hand, he instinctively brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the edge of your ear for a second too long. Subtly, he moved his hand away and rested it on the curve of your waist— horrible idea on his part— his fingers grazing the slightly exposed skin from your shirt riding up a little too much.

Every single movement from him made you feel even hotter than before. Your fingers and toes tingled, although you couldn't tell if it was him or the alcohol, but something definitely stirred within you. Your heart thrummed against your chest as the confidence from the alcohol started to speak for you.

"San," you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he responded in the same register.

"Don't hate me for this, okay?"

San didn't even have time to question you. You brushed your lips against his with a feather light touch, your eyes fluttering open as you looked into his eyes. They were wide with shock, but they were also sparkly and beautiful. So you closed your eyes again and pressed your lips against his again and again and again, each kiss getting more intense than the last one.

San's mind went blank. His body moved on instinct. He pulled you closer and tangled his fingers in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the two of you holding onto each other for dear life because the world was spinning too fast.

You parted, breathless and slightly dizzy, but you felt great, nay, wonderful. Honestly, you were addicted, and there was nothing else you wanted to do that night but kiss San.

So you did. All night.

YOU woke up the next morning groggily and feeling like the world would explode if you did so much as breathe. Your head was throbbing— thank you, hangover— and regret filled every single cell of your body because that morning, you woke up to see San sleeping in bed with you.

Nothing happened the night before. Well, other than the kissing, nothing happened, and you knew that nothing happened because for one thing, you and San were still fully clothed, and you also started sobering up while you were kissing San that night and remembered everything. You remembered the way he held your waist, the way his fingers slid up your top, the feeling you got when he stopped kissing your lips and moved to your neck, the way he made you feel so...

So wanted. So sexy.

You sat up and held your pounding head, the arm San had resting on your waist slipping out of place, making him grunt slightly. His face, so relaxed and serene before, changed when he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned slightly. His eyes fluttered open, and you immediately averted your eyes while trying to figure out how you were going to play the situation because the events of the night before were definitely going to ruin your friendship with him, and you wanted anything but that.

So you decided to play dumb.

"Morning," San's low, groggy morning voice sent tingles down your spine.

"M-Morning," you squeaked out despite clearing your throat before talking and playing the blackout card. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"I think you invited me," he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbow. "Well, you dragged me in here, actually."

"O-Oh... I... I don't remember..."

"I figured as much."

Huh?

"You were pretty drunk and giddy... Shit, maybe I shouldn't have kissed you," San's face paled slightly when he realized the gravity of his actions.

"W-We kissed?" you badly wanted to reassure him that the kiss was consensual, that you didn't regret kissing him— because he was an amazing kisser and you regretted ruining your friendship more than anything— but you still had to play fucking stupid.

"We made out... A lot."

"San, I'm so sorry," you spoke carefully to validate his actions. "I was really drunk, and you know how I get affectionate when I'm drunk, so don't feel bad. Also, I don't feel violated, so you're okay."

"You sure? Because I definitely fucked up—"

"It's okay. I promise."

You hoped that your definitive statement would be enough for him to take and run with, and after a moment of silent contemplation, San nodded his head. He sat up and kept his head bowed, and your heart stung a little. It was like watching a guilty cat, so you couldn't help but pet his head like he was a fucking cat.

"W-What're you doing?" San asked, the man lifting his head to reveal the pink blush that had spread across his face.

"I guess I'm petting you," you couldn't help but laugh. "There, there."

"Please tell me you remember some of last night."

"W-What do you mean?"

"You called me a Maine Coon."

It took everything in you to not burst out laughing because you totally remembered saying that— and you stood by your word.

"I kinda remember saying that..." you admitted slowly.

You were able to laugh when San chuckled, the tension leaving your chest. You were so relieved that San was acting like his normal self, that he didn't seem bothered by the fact that you didn't remember the night before.

San was extremely bothered. He wished you remembered because, goddammit, last night was so fucking amazing, and he wished he could take your relationship a little further.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," San announced as he got off the bed, leaving your hand midair because you were still petting him. "Do you want any?"

"No. I think I'm going to sleep until my head stops hurting, but thanks," you faked a yawn.

"Alright. Get some rest."

With that, San closed the door. You laid back down in bed and covered yourself with the duvet, guilt gnawing at you like anything. You had to lie to your roommate just to preserve your fucking friendship. You sighed deeply and sadly as you stared at the ceiling.

You ended up turning in your bed to go back to bed because you really did want to sleep the headache off. Your eyes landed on the empty space next to you then trailed over to the pillow San was sleeping on. Tentatively, you brought the pillow to your chest and buried your face in it, taking in San's natural scent.

You instantly regretted it. He smelled amazing. So amazing, in fact, that your entire body reacted to it.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself as you felt your arousal pool in your panties.

You shouldn't have done it, but you reached down in between your legs, and while you let San's scent surround you, you pleasured yourself.

No wonder people said to not live with your friends.

YOU didn't mean to avoid San for several days after the incident. You just got really busy with club activities. You were on the e-board, and since festival season was coming up, you had your hands full with a lot of the planning— literally.

"Shit, shit, shit," you cursed as the pile of flyers in your hands started to waver out of place.

And, of course, all the flyers flew from your hands, the papers scattered on the ground in the hallway. You uttered several profanities under your breath as you started to collect all the flyers.

"Hey— Woah, what happened here?" a familiar voice rang out behind you.

You turned around and sighed loudly, conveying your annoyance to your tall friend.

"Mingyu, help me out with these, will you?" you asked him.

Nodding, he crouched down and began helping you pick up the flyers. After you got all of them, you ended up forcing him (technically, he would've helped you regardless) to help you carry them to the club room.

"I would ask you how you dropped everything in the first place, but I get it because I've done it before," Mingyu chuckled and attempted to fill the silence between the two of you with some sort of conversation.

"I just don't understand why we can't have our own printer in our club room," you grumbled.

"At least with the print center, they'll fold the brochures, staple packets, and turn the pages into a bound booklet for us."

"...Okay fine. Then I wish our club room was closer to the print center. I still don't get why our room is at the far end of the floor."

"At least we're on the same floor—"

"Okay! I get it! Stop justifying everything and let me complain!" you cut him off before he could explain the other side.

Mingyu laughed loudly and kept his lips zipped until you got to the club room. Hopping up on the table, he watched you organize the flyers on the table— he would've helped, but the organizing was definitely more of a one person job.

"Hey, I have a question for you," he started.

You hummed in response while keeping busy with your task.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you mean? Of course I am."

"No, like, you seem a little off lately."

"What are you talking about, Gyu?"

"Did something happen at home? Between you and your roommate? Because I haven't heard you talk about him for a while."

You froze. You didn't want to freeze because you didn't want Mingyu to know shit about anything between you and San and especially because you didn't want anyone knowing what happened between you and San.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Mingyu leaned towards you. "Talk to me about it."

"Everything is fine," you said after clearing your throat and resuming your organizing task.

"Yeah, right," Mingyu said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "I thought we were friends and that you could share any of your problems with me, but I guess you don't see me as a friend..."

You knew Mingyu was intentionally trying to guilt trip you and get you to spill on the events that happened several nights before, but you weren't going to fall for his tricks. Not at all.

"Buddy," you grabbed Mingyu's cheeks with one hand. "You are my friend, but I'm not telling you shit because nothing happened. Got it?"

"Then why are you acting all suspicious? You're totally hiding something," Mingyu mumbled through his lips since you were still squeezing his cheeks.

Letting go of his cheeks, you exhaled deeply, planted both palms of your hands on the table and looked him dead in the eyes before lying your ass off. "Look, I got really drunk one night, and I said some things to him that I shouldn't have said. He said it's fine, but I still feel bad. Okay?"

"Damn, okay, you don't have to be so aggressive about it," Mingyu finally backed off.

"Sorry, but it's just been... It's been bothering me."

Everything that happened with San really was bothering the shit out of you— you kept thinking about San in very sexual manners before going to bed every single fucking night, but there was no way in hell you were going to tell anyone that you wanted to fuck your roommate.

"You should talk about it with someone. You know I'm always here to listen," he said softly while placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Thanks, Mingyu. I appreciate it."

Finally, he let the topic go, and you got back to finishing your organization project. After everything was set in place, you and Mingyu ended up leaving the club room together. The entire walk down the long hallway and to the elevators as well as the elevator ride to the building lobby consisted of Mingyu teasing you and making you laugh, your worries about San melting away.

When you exited the building, you nearly tripped over your own two feet, Mingyu catching you.

"You're clumsy as fuck, aren't you? First the flyers, now this," Mingyu teased as he got you back to your feet.

"Shut up, I'm just tired."

Still, to make sure you weren't going to fall again, Mingyu had his arm over your shoulder. Even after you reached the last stair, he still had his arm around you.

The sun was setting by the time you left the building that day, so when you looked ahead and saw a figure before you, the figure looked absolutely stunning and breathtaking surrounded by the orange and red hues of the setting sun. It wasn't until you got closer to the figure did you realize who it was.

"San—" you were about to ask him what he was doing there, but you forgot that he always walked you home from campus that day because he had a class around the same time as your club meeting. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not really," he shook his head.

You watched him open his mouth to say something, only to stop.

Why was that guy's arm over your shoulder?

"Oh, Mingyu, this is my roommate, San. San, this is Mingyu. He's the treasurer," you introduced the two to each other, suddenly realizing that this is the first time they're meeting each other.

"Nice to finally meet you," Mingyu dropped his hand from your shoulder and held it out for San to shake.

Finally?

"Nice to meet you, too," San suppressed the urge to furrow his eyebrows in confusion and instead plastered a picturesque smile onto his face.

"Alright, well, thanks for the help, Gyu," you waved to him as you left his side and walked towards San. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Mingyu waved back. "Get home safe, you two!"

When you got to San's side, you felt him wrap his arm around your shoulder. He did that all the time, but this time around, you felt electricity jolt through your body. The last time you touched him was when you were incredibly drunk, and the touch you had been craving every single night since then was finally there, nearly sending you spiraling.

"Hey, I have a question for you," San snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"What did he mean when he said finally?"

"Oh, that." You felt yourself return to normal when you explained, "I talk about you all the time to the other club members."

"What?" San was a little taken aback. "What do you tell them?"

"I mean just like normal roommate things like us watching movies, or you making food for me or the other way around. Normal roommate things."

San nodded, accepting your explanation. To keep the horny thoughts away, you continued rambling about the members of the club to San on your way home, his arm eventually slipping from your shoulder. And you continued talking to him normally when you got home. He didn't bring up the fact that it had been a while since you talked, and you didn't point it out either, so everything was falling back into place.

Normalcy. Finally.

Or so you thought. You couldn't stop thinking about the way San had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you spent another night regretting your sinful thoughts over your roommate.

SAN didn't like Mingyu from the moment he met him. He had no reason to not like him, but there was something about the way he was with you that rubbed San the wrong way. Maybe it was because Mingyu had his arm around you so familiarly and because you never ever told him about Mingyu until the night San met him.

He also didn't like how much time you were spending with Mingyu. He knew that you had club activities, that you were preparing for the festival and that you and Mingyu would be working together a lot, but he still hated it. It wasn't like San was your boyfriend or anything, so it shouldn't have bothered him how close you were getting with Mingyu. But Mingyu would carry you home after you had one too many drinks, and seeing the way Mingyu would touch you so familiarly made his blood boil just a tiny bit.

He especially hated it because everything had changed between the two of you after the night you got drunk and kissed him. He felt like it was his fault, that he shouldn't have kissed you when you were drunk even though you reassured him that it was okay and that you didn't remember. There shouldn't have been a reason for you to be avoiding him, but that's just how it felt for him lately.

One night, Mingyu brought you home again after you went drinking with the club, irritating San slightly. You stumbled into the apartment, leaving San with the taller man at the entrance to your apartment.

"Thanks for dropping her off," San said politely but curtly, trying to get Mingyu to leave.

"Oh, will we see you at the festival tomorrow?" Mingyu asked.

"Yeah."

Honestly, San wanted to be petty and say that he might not be able to, but he didn't want to risk you overhearing and telling him that he must come and tell Mingyu that he would definitely be there. At least with a simple 'yeah', San could get out of it if he really wanted to.

"Cool. See you later, then," Mingyu said with a smile before waving and leaving.

The fake smile on San's face dropped immediately the second the door closed. With a heavy sigh, he trudged over to the living room to see you lying on the couch face up, your arms outstretched for him.

"Sannie!" you giggled. "Come here."

San couldn't help but listen to you when you called him like that. He approached the couch but remained standing, making you frown. You sat up and pursed your lips, your cutesy act making San lose his goddamn mind.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked while sulking.

"No, I'm not," San replied and shook his head.

"Then gimme a hug!"

You knelt on the couch and hugged your roommate, San's arms delaying slightly when he hugged you back. You rubbed your face into his chest before letting out a happy sigh as you rested your head on his pillow of a chest.

"You're so comfy..." you murmured. "And you're so pretty... Have I ever told you how pretty you are?"

"Every time you drink," San rolled his eyes.

You leaned away from him— he was being short with you, and he knew that you knew that.

"Tell me what's wrong," you said as you cupped his cheek.

San grabbed your wrist lightly and moved your hand from his face. He would've entertained you a little more, but based on the developments of his relationship with you over the past couple of weeks, he was losing his patience rapidly.

"Nothing. You need to sleep," San replied.

"No, it's not nothing. Tell me."

San still refused to tell you anything. His patience completely wore out when you started chanting "tell me" over and over again to the point that he hoisted you over his shoulder, walked you to your room, dropped you on your bed, and turned off the lights before closing the door.

He wasn't going to make the mistake of indulging you while you were drunk out of your mind again.

Before he could get more than a few steps from your door, you opened it and stood in the threshold.

"San," you said, your voice wavering. "Why are you being mean to me?"

Well fuck. San never wanted to be the reason you fucking cried.

"I'm not— I'm sorry," San apologized sincerely to you.

Even though he apologized, tears started rolling down your face. San fully panicked and hugged you before you could start sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him back when he leaned back and cupped your face to dry your tears with his thumbs.

"Don't cry," San said softly. "You just need to sleep."

"Then don't dump me on the bed next time," you said while frowning.

San's thumb got a little too close to your eye, making you unintentionally wink at him, but the way your rosy cheek lifted slightly when you closed your eye made San's heart thump harder in his chest. Something so simple was enough to make him yearn for you even though you were right there in his arms.

"Sannie," your soft voice rang in his ear. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"I know I'm tipsy, but I know that I'm not drunk enough to do anything I'll regret."

"What are you talking about?"

"I remember that night. I just didn't want to say anything to you because... I was afraid of what me kissing you would do to our friendship."

San was completely taken aback. So you were avoiding him— not because of what he did, but because of what you did.

"...Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I don't want you to hate me for doing this again."

You cupped his cheeks then brought his face to yours, your lips meeting his. San didn't know what to do at first— he did not want a repeat of what happened weeks ago, but he craved you so damn much that he needed you more than anything.

San wrapped his arms around you and carried you back into your room while still kissing you. He then laid you down on the bed— super gently this time— before laying right next to you, his lips meeting yours feverishly over and over again.

YOU ran out of the apartment the next morning. Even though San was sleeping right by your side, and you should've talked things through with him, you were really fucking late— drinking the night before an important event was such a horrible idea. Since you couldn't talk about it just yet, you decided you would send him a text so that he would know that you wanted to.

Technically speaking, you and San did talk about it that night in between kisses, but it was more like surface level shit instead of figuring out what the relationship between the two of you was at that point and what it could look like in the future. And, just like the last time, you didn't have sex with him. You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't bummed.

"There you are! Took you long enough," Mingyu immediately started teasing you the second you ran up to your booth at the festival.

"Why didn't you cut me off while drinking last night?" you slapped his arm. "I'm hungover as fuck..."

"As long as you don't throw up on anyone, you'll be fine."

Immediately, you and your club members got to work setting everything up for your booth, your hangover quickly subsiding as your adrenaline pumped. You were so invested in the chaos of the festival that you didn't realize you completely forgot to text San.

Thankfully, you got some downtime when the president of the club told you to take a lunch break. You quickly left the booth and went off in search of a (different) food stall to grab your lunch from— your club was doing a food booth, and you wanted to eat anything but that.

"Hey, wait up!" you heard Mingyu holler from behind.

"You're on lunch break too?"

"Yep. Let's eat together," Mingyu said cheerfully as he grabbed your arm and whisked you into the crowd.

It was extremely crowded when you and Mingyu got to the food stalls, and you nearly lost sight of each other a couple times. So, Mingyu held your hand, and he waded through the crowd quickly. The two of you were able to get your food so quickly, in fact, that you had time to sit and eat comfortably and get to explore the rest of the festival before returning back to your booth.

"How's your hangover now?" Mingyu asked as the two of you sat on the grass to eat your food.

"Gone, but I think we were just so busy that I got over it," you admitted while laughing.

"Good, but I got you this just in case."

From his pocket, Mingyu produced a tiny container of painkillers, and he handed you the water bottle that he purchased along with his food.

"Oh, wow! Thank you!" you said happily as you accepted the items from him.

"Don't take it now— you need to eat something first."

"I know, Gyu, you don't need to lecture me."

"Just making sure."

You and Mingyu smiled at each other before digging into your lunches. You talked about God knows what, and as the conversation continued, Mingyu kept finding ways to make you laugh, your heart fluttering more and more with every joke he threw your way.

"Hey, can I try some of yours? You can try mine," Mingyu said after there was a tiny lull in the conversation.

"Oh, sure."

You were going to hand him your lunch so that he could try it himself, but instead he opened his mouth— he wanted you to feed him?

"Mingyu, just take my lunch," you said with a sigh.

"No. I want you to feed me," he refused.

"Really?"

"Come on, I got you painkillers and water. The least you could do is feed me."

"This feels like an extortion," you mumbled as you held out your fork.

Mingyu happily chomped down on the fork, the dumb smile on his face making you smile as well. While he chewed, he held out his food for you to take a bite, and you did. You did happily.

After finishing your food (and taking the God-sent painkillers), you and Mingyu still had some time to spare before you had to be back at your booth. The two of you walked alongside each other as you observed your peers booths, your hands brushing against each other every so often.

It wasn't until half way through your walk did Mingyu get frustrated with how frequently his hand brushed yours. He ended up wordlessly holding your hand as you continued through the festival. Thank God you can't feel someone's heartbeat while holding their hand, otherwise Mingyu definitely would've felt your heart racing.

"I have a question for you," Mingyu said softly.

"What is it?"

"What are you doing after the festival is over?"

Your heart nearly fell out of your chest when you realized that you completely forgot about San, that you completely forgot to text him. You bit your lower lip and responded, "Just going home..."

"Then, would it be alright if I asked you to hang out with me after the festival?"

Your mind was reeling. On one hand, you needed to talk to San about what happened, but on the other, you were having so much fun with Mingyu, and you wanted to continue the fun.

"I promise, I won't bite," Mingyu added, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Unless you want me to."

With a laugh, you shoved Mingyu away, the two of you continuing to laugh as you returned to your club's booth.

You didn't have time to think about anything after that. Your booth got insanely busy and it stayed at that level for hours— even after the sun completely set, your booth was packed with people. You were so busy, in fact, you didn't even realize your roommate was right in front of you until he grabbed your hand.

"Did you forget what I look like or something?" San asked jokingly.

"Oh my God, San! When did you get here?"

"I've been at the festival for a bit now. Do you have time to talk?"

Under the guise of a bathroom break, you and San went to an isolated end of the festival. You stood across from each other, the awkwardness heavy in the air. San was scratching the back of his neck while you crossed your arms over your chest— it was a chilly night, and you didn't have a jacket.

"You ran out this morning," San finally started.

"Yeah, sorry. I was running late, and then I wanted to text you, but our booth got super busy," you explained. "You saw what it was like in there."

"Yeah, I figured you'd be busy since you were busy this week planning. Nice work on the booth, by the way."

"Thanks, we worked hard."

"I know."

The conversation lulled. You didn't know how to bring up the events of the night before, and San didn't say anything either, so the awkwardness only got heavier. The wind ended up filling your conversation, and it also sent a shiver down your spine.

"Did you not bring a jacket?" San asked as he watched you shiver and rub your arm to warm up.

"No, I ran out that quickly," you said, your teeth chattering.

With a small smile on his face, San took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The warmth from his body clung to the jacket, and it ended up warming you up faster.

"Thanks, San, but won't you get cold?"

"I was planning on heading home after talking to you, anyway... I guess we didn't really talk, did we?" San realized sheepishly.

"Yeah... Not really..."

God, it was even hard for you to get the words out. Maybe you needed some liquid courage before you had the conversation with him.

"We, uh... We can talk when you get home."

"Alright. Get home safe, San," you nodded.

The two of you waved goodbye before San left, leaving you to return to the festival. After wearing San's jacket properly, you took a couple steps forward, only to see Mingyu standing before you.

"That was a pretty long bathroom break, don't you think?" he joked.

"Yeah, sorry. How long has it been?"

"Not that long. I was just messing with you."

"Gyu!" you let out a relieved laugh— you needed that after the tension between you and San earlier. "Cut it out. Let's get back to the booth."

You and Mingyu returned to the booth, and your club wrapped up business shortly thereafter. The booth breakdown and cleaning took a lot less time than anyone expected, so as soon as everyone was done, the entire club announced that you all would be going drinking. Before you could decline the invitation, you were whisked away to the local bar near campus.

Yet again, you forgot to text San. You wanted to tell him that you'd be home late, but every time you pulled out your phone to text him, someone distracted you. Everyone was trying to get you to drink heavily, but you only needed a light buzz to help you start this conversation with San, and if you were over the top drunk, there was no way in hell you were going to be able to have a sane conversation with him.

"Hey," Mingyu prodded your arm as he saw you chewing on your lower lip nervously. "You're not drinking as much as you normally do. Is everything okay? Is it the hangover?"

"N-No— well, maybe... I just don't want to drink too much tonight is all," you admitted to him.

"Wow, if only you were this responsible all the time, then we wouldn't have to worry about an insanely drunk version of you."

"Shut up!"

You pushed Mingyu away while laughing, the man barely budging. If anything, he leaned in even closer to you and whispered in your ear, "I honestly want to get out of here. Come with me if you want to leave, too."

With that, Mingyu stood up. He turned back to look at you for a split second and held his hand for you to take, which you did. You both bid adieu to the rest of your drunken friends before leaving the bar.

As you walked into the night, Mingyu leaned closer to you and reminded you gently, "You still never told me your answer."

"To what?"

"Come hang out with me tonight. I promise I'll make it worth your time."

YOU couldn't help but notice that Mingyu had a really nice place. You were honestly a little shocked at how refined his taste was, only for him to tell you that the place came fully furnished. Even then, he was joking around with you, making you feel comfortable and welcome in his home.

You ended up sitting on his couch while he rustled through the kitchen. Wielding two glasses of water, Mingyu joined you on the couch. You took one of the glasses from him and nursed your water while Mingyu let out a groan of exhaustion, his head hitting the sofa cushion behind him.

"Thank God we're finally done," he said loudly. "That festival took everything out of me."

"Same," you agreed. "I never want to do this again!"

"You know we have to do this again next year, right?"

"Fuck!"

Mingyu laughed loudly, and his laugh was so contagious that you couldn't help but laugh as well. You set the water glass down and got a little more comfortable on his couch while turning to face him.

"You looked really cute in the apron, by the way," he commented.

"What, that old thing? Really?"

"Honestly, you could make anything cute since you yourself are very cute."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You looked away shyly— even though his lines were so cheesy, you still loved the compliments, especially from him.

"I don't think you've ever called me cute before, Mingyu," you tried joking around with him. "What's gotten into you for you to say that so openly?"

"Hmm, it could be the alcohol, but I only had one beer..." he pondered. "I think I just wanted you to know. I don't think you hear it enough."

"Shut up," you giggled. "I hear it plenty."

"Are you sure? Because you're acting like you're hearing it for the first time," he teased.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"...Still, I want you to hear it. You're really cute."

"Stop it, Mingyu," you laughed.

"No, I need you to know that I think you're really cute."

Mingyu's fingers— you didn't even realize his hand was on your thigh— started rubbing light circles through the fabric of your pants. Your entire body flushed with excitement and desire. You started leaning towards him.

"I'm literally wearing leggings and the world's rattiest shirt because I didn't want to ruin any of my nice shirts."

"I told you, you can make anything cute because you're so cute."

"Yeah? You think I'm cute?"

"Yeah, I think you're super cute."

Mingyu moved his hand from your thigh to your ear, his fingers brushing your hair away before he ran his thumb along the ridge of your ear. Your ear felt like it was on fire when he did that, and heat surged through your body when you realized he was leaning in to kiss you. You met his kiss, your lips pressing against each other softly.

You couldn't help but giggle when he left another gentle peck on your lips because he was being so gentle, so careful with you.

"God, you're so cute," Mingyu breathed out when he heard you giggle.

His lips met yours a little more passionately. You reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled him a little closer before resting your hands on the back of his neck. The kisses only got more intense when his fingers moved from your ears to your hair, one hand holding the back of your head while the other held your waist. His fingers danced along the curve of your hip, and his hand messed up your hair further the more impatient he got with his kisses. His urgency made you giggle happily yet again, making him smile against your lips.

Mingyu ended up pulling you onto his lap, your knees on either side of him as you straddled him. Your giggles finally died down, but you kept smiling the more you kissed him because he was doing all the right things. He ran his hands from your thighs to your ass, up your back, and then back down along the curve of your waist. You were wearing the ugliest shirt known to mankind, but he really made you feel so cute and attractive in that moment.

Neither of you could seem to get enough of each other. His hands were starting to hold and squeeze your thighs, ass, and waist, while his breathing started hitching every so often the more passionately you kissed him. It certainly did not help when you cupped his face and kissed him while intentionally brushing your fingers along his ear.

"Nngh," Mingyu let out the tiniest noise that normally would've made you laugh, but you wanted him so badly at that point that the noise turned you on. "I... I want you."

"Good, because I want you too."

He exhaled happily, and finally, he started taking off your clothes. He took off your jacket and tossed it aside haphazardly. When he went to take your shirt off, he accidentally hooked his fingers in one of the holes and ripped right through your shirt.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry—"

"Gyu, I told you this was the rattiest shirt on Earth. I was going to throw it out anyway."

"So then you wouldn't mind if I did this..."

He grabbed your shirt at the collar, and with his sheer strength (not that he needed much of it because the shirt was seriously so worn down), he tore the shirt down the middle. You bit your lower lip, his simple action turning you on way more. He helped you get the shirt off before continuing to kiss you.

The articles of clothing came off one by one, Mingyu taking his sweet time with you because he wanted to relish every single moment. He had remained seated on the couch, and you were still straddling him. Before he could grab a condom, you got off the couch and sunk to your knees, his eyes widening. He suppressed a groan when you held his insanely massive cock, only for the groan to escape the second he felt your tongue lick the pre-cum off the tip of his cock.

"Mmm, fuck, yes... Just like that," Mingyu groaned when you took him into your mouth slowly.

You couldn't take all of him just yet— you were still getting used to his size. You would go down on his cock, then resurface for air every time you got the tiniest bit further down. Mingyu was losing his mind the more you sucked his cock like that, his hands itching to run through your hair. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he throat fucked you, and he seemed to pick up on that when you felt him hold the back of your head.

"God, you feel— Oh! Oh, yes, cutie... You feel so fucking amazing," Mingyu said while choking back his moans.

Mingyu calling you cutie made you want to do more for him. So, you hollowed out your cheeks and slurped, making him fling his head back into the sofa cushions and grit his teeth as his eyelids fluttered. His hold on your head got looser the more he lost his sanity, and just before he came, you stopped.

"How could you?" Mingyu gasped, his voice high from the euphoria.

"I need you inside me, Gyu," you said as you stood up. "I don't think I can wait any longer."

"Alright, cutie. C'mere," Mingyu held out one hand for you while his other hand successfully fished a condom from his wallet.

As soon as he rolled the condom on, you straddled him again. You spread your folds and held his cock to line it up with your entrance before sinking onto his cock slowly. The second he was the slightest bit inside you, you held his shoulders and gripped tightly— you knew he was going to stretch you out, but you still weren't prepared for his size.

"Gyu," your voice wavered. "You're so fucking big..."

"I'm sorry, cutie. Does it hurt?" he asked, the tiniest hint of worry in his voice.

"A little bit..."

"Then let me distract you."

He held your face and kissed you softly, the pain immediately melting away the more you focused on the sweetness of his kisses. When your hold on him got lighter, he guided your waist downwards, making you sink further onto his cock.

"Just like that," he whispered. "You're doing so well."

When the entirety of his huge cock was inside you— you couldn't believe that he actually fit— you felt like he had filled you up. You felt like you were actually stuffed with him inside you.

"Good job, cutie," Mingyu praised as he kissed your temple. "Do you think you can start moving?"

You nodded. With Mingyu's hands guiding you, you started bouncing lightly on his lap, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls warming you up immensely. You felt his hips roll up into yours every so often, making the sensation of him inside you all the more better. But, you were still moving a little too slowly for both you and him, which you figured out when you felt a hot sigh on your neck.

"Lean forward for me, cutie. I'm going to help you out."

You did as he said, and immediately, you started moving faster. You cried out when his hands lifted and slammed your ass, the feeling of his cock nearly reaching your cervix and the insane speed he was moving you at compared to your slower one from earlier making white flood your vision. You couldn't even warn him— you came so fast when he sat you down on his cock just hard enough for him to actually hit your cervix. You buried your face in his neck and cried as your orgasm took control over you, your arms and thighs shaking.

You thought Mingyu was going to tease you, but instead, he flipped you onto your back and pinned you on the couch, his cock still inside you. His cock throbbed inside you, and you realized that when you clenched around his cock when you came, you nearly sent him to heaven and back with how tight you were. You were still moaning and screaming his name as he repeatedly rammed his cock into you, and you clawed at his back unknowingly as the pleasure consumed the two of you. His jaw was tense, and sweat rolled down his face and bare body as he fucked you hard. He was grunting and holding back moans as he fucked you, the sound of the couch squeezing drowning out his own little sounds.

Both hands on your waist, Mingyu fucked you wildly. You clung to his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he continued to be so rough with you. It wasn't until he hovered over you and had his hands planted firmly on either side of your head did his pace finally slow down. Your hands moved from his arms to the back of his neck, and you brought him closer to you to kiss him.

"Fuck," he gasped, cutting off your kiss. "I'm— Shit! Fuck!"

Mingyu's head fell into the crook of your neck as he came hard, the condom inside you filling up entirely. He remained inside you as he regulated his breathing, his thick chest rubbing against your nipples as inhaled. The friction on your nipples made you moan slightly, catching Mingyu's attention immediately.

"What, do you want me to give your breasts some attention too?" he joked.

"Shut up— Hnngh! Oh!"

Your back arched when he laid alongside you and held your breast. He twisted and toyed with your nipple, and when he finally pulled out, he lowered himself so he could suck on your now sore nipple.

"Gyu," you sighed out, the pleasure from him playing with your breasts starting to get to your head.

"Yes, cutie?"

"...Do you have another condom?"

Mingyu looked up at your flushed face, a huge grin spreading across his.

"God, you're so fucking cute! Of course I do."

"Then let's go again."

YOU woke up the next morning to see a singular text from your roommate. Usually, he would spam you to make sure you were okay, so the singular text really freaked you out.

"Gyu, I gotta get home. I totally forgot to tell my roommate I was going to spend the night here," you told the sleeping man next to you as you shook him awake.

"Cutie, this is so not cute of you," Mingyu grumbled.

"Seriously. I gotta go home."

"Then go..."

"I can't— you ripped my shirt last night."

Mingyu's eyes completely opened, and he laughed. He sat up and stretched while saying, "I totally forgot about that. Alright, I'll get up and give you a shirt."

And that's how you ended up wearing San's jacket and Mingyu's shirt home.

The second you got home, you walked into the apartment to see a very pissed San on the couch. When he heard you enter the living room, he stood up and walked towards you, the intensity of his actions making you take a couple steps back until your back was pressed against the wall.

"What the fuck happened to you last night?" San asked, his voice the scariest you'd ever heard it get.

"I—"

"You have no idea how fucking worried I was!"

At that point, you were fed up by the way San was talking to you, so you shot back, "You only sent me one text last night, and I'm sorry I missed it, but if you were so worried then you could've spammed me or called me like you normally do! Why are you being so pissy with me?!"

"I didn't want to bombard you because— We still haven't talked about anything, and I didn't want to overwhelm you!" San reasoned out but still with a booming voice.

"Why?!"

"You didn't text me in the morning, let alone tell me you were leaving the apartment, you didn't text me last night after the festival ended, and you didn't even text me that you were coming home this morning! I didn't know if you were mad at me or something!"

"Well, I'm not!"

"So then why didn't you text or call?!"

You went silent. There was nothing wrong with you sleeping with Mingyu, but you felt insanely guilty regardless. You looked down at your feet and heard San exhale deeply. He did his best to calm himself down before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Where were you last—"

San cut himself off. You looked at him with wide eyes as he peeled his jacket off you to reveal Mingyu's shirt.

"You... You weren't wearing this last night... Whose shirt is this?" San asked quietly.

"Mingyu's," you answered in a pathetic voice.

"W-Why are you wearing his shirt?"

"Because he— I ripped mine," you quickly amended your words. "And I spent the night there..."

"Did... Uh... Did you sleep with him?"

There was no way in hell you were going to be able to lie to San.

"...Yes."

The guilt just piled on you. You didn't owe San a thing, and you weren't in a relationship with him or anything. All you did was kiss him, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like you were cheating on him or something.

"Take it off. Right now."

"Come on, San, it's just a shirt—"

"Take. It. Off."

"Okay, geez, since it bothers you so much, then I will. Let me just go to my room—"

You tried to brush past him, but he stopped you before you could. He wordlessly began taking the shirt off you himself— when he said right now, he really meant right now.

"What the fuck, San? Why are you—"

This time, to get you to shut up, San pulled the shirt off you and kissed you, your brain melting immediately. He held your body tightly, firmly, pressing his chest against you and you into the wall. Your fingers found the roots of his hair and tugged lightly as he made out with you so intensely that you thought your legs were going to give out.

"San— Ah! Mmm, San, wait," you tried to get him to stop when you felt him grope your ass.

"What? What is it? What am I waiting for now?" San asked with slight annoyance, his thin patience ready to snap.

"I just think I should shower..." you whispered. "Before we go further..."

San let your words sink in, and after a moment of letting them process, San let you go and moved out of the way.

When you went to take your shower, you didn't know what to expect. You had never seen San act that way before with anyone, and he wasn't the type to get jealous, so seeing the jealousy in his eyes made your body tremble. Honestly, after sleeping with Mingyu the night before, you thought that maybe you shouldn't do anything with San, but considering fucking San was all you could dream about since the first time you kissed him weeks ago, you couldn't deny yourself the opportunity— especially when it was being offered to you on a silver plate.

You emerged from the shower, and before you could even step foot in your room, you heard San pipe up from his room, "Don't bother. Come here."

Clad in your towel, you shuffled to San's room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed when you entered. You watched as his eyes scanned you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, your body flushing with heat the more he stared at you like you were a piece of meat.

"Come. Sit here," San said while patting the space next to him after a moment of silence passed

"Can't I dry off first...?"

"I'll help you dry off. Come here."

You felt your face get hot. Maybe it was the tone he was taking— he wasn't being curt with you like he was before, but he wasn't being his normal self either. His voice was slightly deeper, more sensual, hotter, and the glint in his eyes made you want to melt before him.

You sat down on the bed next to him, his hand immediately moving to rest on the bed and right behind you, but he had yet to touch you. He inched closer to you, and your body tensed in anticipation, but he was still not touching you, and the slower he moved, the more insane it drove you.

"Tell me something," he whispered, his breath flitting past your cheek. "Do you want to talk now or later?"

"I, um," you gulped nervously, unsure of what to do because you knew that you should talk to him, but the way he was turning you on was too much for you to bear, and you desperately wanted him.

"I need to know..."

"...Later. I need you now."

Finally, San touched you when he wrapped his hand around your neck lightly and brought you in, his lips enveloping yours almost immediately. He was kissing you hungrily, like he could eat you up, and when he pressed his fingers into your neck slightly every so often, it just added to the euphoria. You moaned into the kisses, your hands grabbing at his sweater and pulling him closer.

The towel wrapped around your body slipped when you grabbed at the man more. The second the towel fell, San's hand found your breast, and he began kneading it with his large palm. You could barely focus on kissing him when you felt his fingers rub against your nipples repeatedly, the sensation turning you on faster.

"And," San breathed out in between kisses. "You're okay with doing this?"

"San, I'm more than okay with this," you sighed out.

San pinned you down on his bed and knelt above you. You watched through hazy eyes as he stripped down to nothing. You'd seen his chest and abs plenty of times because he had a horrible habit of wandering around the apartment shirtless, but what you weren't expecting was his thick cock. At first you didn't think his cock was that long, but when he started stroking it, you stood corrected.

Leaning over to his nightstand, San grabbed a condom and tore it open before tossing it on your chest.

"Put it on for me," he instructed (rather kindly).

You sat up and placed the condom on the tip of his cock. Then, using your mouth, you rolled the condom on. San was definitely not expecting you to do that, and when he saw you do that while looking up at him with big eyes, his entire body reacted.

Grabbing your arms, San pinned you on his bed once again, his one hand holding your wrists above your head. He left wet, sloppy kisses along your neck, collarbones, and breasts while simultaneously rubbing his cock along your folds. Every time the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit, your toes curled, and your back arched, pushing your body closer to his.

"Sannie," you panted, using your nickname for him. "Stop teasing me."

"Mmm, I think you can wait," San hummed. "You made me wait all night, after all."

San was fucking punishing you by edging you, and it was driving you in-fucking-sane. You couldn't do anything with your hands because he had them trapped above your head, and your legs were stuck because his knees were trapping your legs. The only thing you could do was writhe below him, your hips rolling towards his cock and trying desperately to get him inside you.

You wanted to scream at him when he moved his cock away, but you didn't because you felt two of his thick fingers enter you rashly. He fingered you quickly and roughly, the sounds of your pussy squelching along with your erotic moans filling up the room. Tears started filling up your eyes when he curled his fingers inside you as if he was looking for your G-spot. The second he did find it, your body convulsed. You let out a choking cry as you came, your arousal covering his hand and his sheets.

"Ah, there we go," San murmured. "You feel good?"

You whimpered and nodded as you were unable to formulate words.

"I'll make you feel a whole lot better now, baby."

Baby. That was the first time that word had ever left the man's mouth in the time you knew him, and it sent your heart on a sprint. The second the word settled on you, San's cock was raring to go. He rubbed the tip against your folds one final time before pushing it through, his cock spreading you painfully wide.

"Oh, fuck! San— It hurts!" you cried as you tried to free your hands from his grasp.

"Sorry, sorry," San apologized and immediately pulled out.

San finally let go of your wrists, allowing you to hold onto his forearms. He watched you visibly relax before kissing your cheek and saying, "I'm going to go again. I need you to breathe and relax for me, okay?"

You bit your lower lip and nodded. San brushed your hair out of your face and let you prepare for a second longer before placing himself at your entrance. The second you exhaled, San entered you again, and this time, it didn't hurt so bad. That being said, tears still slipped out of your eyes when you felt him fill you up slowly but surely.

"Good job, baby," he whispered and kissed the tears off your cheek.

You froze for a split second— you definitely had déjà vu when he said that, but he didn't give you time to sit and ponder because he started moving. You ended up wrapping your legs around his slim waist and your arms over his broad shoulders as he fucked you at a rough but steady pace.

"You're so fucking tight," San bit out. "Just like I imagined."

The way San's hips rolled into yours made you feel all sorts of ways. He was there, and he was inside you, but you felt like you couldn't get enough of him. You pulled him down and kissed him while he fucked you steadily, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you made out with him roughly. He sucked on your lower lip and tugged upwards, making your heart flutter a little more for him.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed when he pulled out, only for the slight disappointment to immediately vanish when you heard him say, "Turn around for me, baby. I want to see you on your hands and knees."

Trembling— you didn't realize that San's cock would completely demolish your body until you tried to move— you managed to get on your hands and knees. You felt San's hand grab your ass and squeeze it. The second he did, you arched your back, making the man chuckle.

"You liked that, huh?" San teased.

You for sure thought San was going to smack your ass after that, but instead, he grabbed the other cheek and did the same thing, both of his hands gripping your ass. He kneaded your ass until he himself lost his patience. He quickly shoved his cock into you— it didn't hurt now that you were used to his size— and immediately held onto your waist.

San fucking you from behind was exhilarating to say the least. The way his waist made contact with your ass, and the way he held your waist while he railed you into tomorrow made you feel so fucking good. You felt so good, in fact, that your arms gave out on you, your chest pressing into the bed while your arms laid flat alongside you.

The sudden change in angle was too much for San. He buried his cock deep inside you with one final thrust, a groan emanating from his entire being as he came. When he thrust into you that time, though, he hit your cervix, making you cum as well. You cried loudly while San moaned deeply as the two of you came together, and after the high of the orgasm wore off, he pulled out and threw the condom away while you melted into a puddle on his bed.

"Fuck," you mumbled as you laid down on his bed, San laying down in front of you. "That was amazing..."

"Yeah? Good."

He kissed your forehead before wrapping his arms around you, your face meeting his slightly sweaty chest. Being surrounded in his sweat only made you realize that, dammit, you had to shower again.

"This time, when you shower," San started— he read your mind somehow. "I'll join you."

"The fuck?"

"Yeah. Let's save water, baby. Let's reduce our water bill."

"Fuck off," you said with a laugh before hugging him closer.

YOU didn't get to talk to San about what the hell your relationship was. You spent the rest of that day sleeping, and the day after, the two of you had classes— you weren't avoiding each other, but neither of you had the time to sit down and talk.

Plus, to make matters more complicated, Mingyu would flirt with you whenever he saw you. You didn't mind that he was flirting with you (because if San didn't want a relationship, then you could have one with Mingyu because you did like Mingyu too), but you felt a little weird that you were kind of leading him on.

"Hey, so, I was thinking," Mingyu leaned towards you and whispered. "After the club meeting..."

The whole club was in the club room discussing future events, and after the festival, there was an influx of members, so you and Mingyu resorted to standing on the side and leaning against the waist high cabinets. As he got closer to you, his hand slid towards your back, and he tiptoed his fingers along your spine.

"We should go back to my place."

He placed his palm flat against your back, and you nearly jumped out of your skin feeling his hot touch. Also, the fact that his lips were dangerously close to your ear made you extremely paranoid about the rest of the people in the room.

"Mingyu, can we not do this right now?" you asked through gritted teeth.

"Everyone's focused on the presentation, don't worry about it, cutie."

"Oh, then I think we should focus on the presentation, too."

You pushed Mingyu's face away, making the man chuckle and finally lean away from you. He leaned away, but his hand was still on your back, and his fingers began tracing patterns on your back. You couldn't focus on the meeting at all after that.

Before Mingyu got the chance to bring up the idea he had during the meeting, the e-board of your club announced that they all wanted to go drinking— how you and your club didn't have liver failure yet was beyond you— so the two of you were dragged to happy hour.

This time, you made sure to text San before you started drinking. You told him that you'd be out with your club and that you were at a popular restaurant on campus (someone managed to convince the president to go to a place where you could also get food).

san: look up

You looked up, and sitting at the bar with a friend was your roommate. He waved at you briefly before going back to his phone.

san: lmk when you're done with dinner san: we can head home together

You replied with the okay emoji, and he sent an emoji that made you laugh. You put your phone away happily knowing that you and San were at least okay.

"Who're you texting for you to be smiling like that?" Mingyu asked as he took the seat next to you.

"My roommate," you responded.

"Huh."

You looked over to see a slight look of displease on Mingyu's face before it suddenly vanished and got replaced by a sultry smile.

"So, after dinner tonight, why don't we go back to my place?" Mingyu picked up where you both left off.

"I don't— Oh..."

You were going to decline him, but when you felt his large hand cup your thigh and began rubbing it, you lost the words.

"What do you say, cutie?"

You didn't answer because you really didn't know what to say. Plus, his hand was nearing your crotch, and your brain was swimming with all of the dirty thoughts in the world, so there was no way for you to say anything coherent.

Mingyu seemed to be having the time of his life turning you on like that. He was still talking to the rest of the club members like normal and getting food and drinks while you were all sorts of hot and bothered. Your club mates thought you were getting drunk because every time they tried to talk to you, it took a while for you to respond, so they cut you off before you could even start drinking that night.

"Mingyu, please," you gasped and tried to push his hand away. "Not now."

"Alright, so later then," Mingyu finally let go of your thigh and winked at you.

Damn, he really was going to get his way, wasn't he?

Dinner was dragging on for a while, and you couldn't leave until you settled the bill, so you tried to see if you could talk to a club mate and tell them you'd pay them later, but they were so caught up in their own world that you couldn't talk to them.

Thankfully, San ended up approaching your table— he finished his dinner with his friend and was waiting for several minutes to see if you were done.

"Hey, you ready to go?" San asked you.

"Oh, uh—"

"Hey, San. How are you?" Mingyu interjected and talked to your roommate.

"Mingyu! I'm fine, how are you?"

"I'm good. So, listen... I'm taking her home tonight."

You froze. The chatter from your table slowly died down as the tension between San and Mingyu rose.

"Uh, I don't think so. We both agreed that we'd walk home together," San argued.

"Huh, because I remember making plans with her to go back to my place later tonight, so..."

Before the argument could actually start, you stood up and grabbed both men's arms and called out to the club, "Hey, let me know what Gyu and I owe, okay? We're heading out! Bye!"

You dragged the two outside and stood between them so that nothing could happen. Granted, you knew they wouldn't start swinging fists at each other because they weren't the type to do that, but it didn't hurt to be safe.

"I think you need to give us some answers, cutie," Mingyu said in a low tone that sent shivers down your spine.

"Okay, when we got to the restaurant, I texted San, and he told me that he was also there, so said we should head home together, but then you started coming onto me, and... Yeah..."

"So are you saying I shouldn't have come onto you?"

"No, I'm saying I—"

You were about to tell Mingyu that you needed him to fuck you, but you realized that San was standing right behind you, and you didn't need to deal with his wrath either.

"Oh," Mingyu smirked. "Got it."

Yeah, you were going to have to deal with San's wrath.

"You can't be serious right now—" San scoffed and rolled his eyes before you covered his mouth.

"Let's just go home, okay? We can talk about it later," you started pushing San in the direction of your apartment.

"I think we should all talk about it right now," Mingyu interjected as he grabbed your shoulder.

"Gyu, I'm tired—"

"If you think I'm going to just let you go without an explanation, you're crazy."

Next thing you knew, you were sitting in between a very annoyed Mingyu and a very annoyed San, the two of them glaring daggers at each other.

"I can't believe you're in my apartment," San said with a frown.

"It's not just your apartment, dude. It's her apartment too," Mingyu pointed out. "Besides, I was going to get here eventually."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Alright! Alright, calm down," you immediately put your hands on San's shoulders to calm him down, Mingyu eyeing you as you patted San's arms.

"Hey, remember when I asked you if anything was going on between you and your roommate a couple of weeks ago?" Mingyu asked you while poking your arm. "Did you lie to me?"

"No, I didn't— Nothing happened—"

"Nothing happened? You freaking kissed me—"

"San, shut up," you bit out and covered his mouth with your hand before he could go further.

"So you did lie to me?" Mingyu looked like a hurt puppy dog. "I thought we were friends."

"We are! I just— It was more complicated back then," you sighed.

"Yeah, right—"

"San, shut the fuck up! I'll explain," you slapped his mouth lightly.

"So what's the truth?"

"Okay, a couple of weeks ago, I was really drunk— Don't!" you stopped San before he could say something stupid about your drinking habits. "And I kissed him, but the next morning, I lied and told him I didn't remember anything. So, when I told you, Gyu, that nothing happened between San and I, it was just a continuation of that lie."

"Oh... Okay, that's fine," Mingyu smiled and leaned back.

"Huh?"

"Well, if you lied about not remembering, it means that you didn't want to kiss him, right?"

"No, that's not—"

"Dude, she lied about it to protect our friendship," San interrupted. "Not because she didn't want to kiss me."

"Okay, whatever you need to tell yourself, little guy."

"Excuse me?"

"Little guy. You know. 'Cuz you're short."

You buried your face in your hands when you felt San get off the couch and heard him yell, "You're just freakishly tall!"

"Which also means you're short!"

"Both of you sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!" you ordered the two of them.

Reluctantly, they both sat down, but the heavy tension remained. It only got worse when you heard San grumble under his breath but loud enough for both you and Mingyu to hear, "She made out with me twice, asshole."

"Okay, but that means nothing to me," Mingyu scoffed. "I slept with her."

"God..." you buried your face in your hands again.

"Yeah, I know," San rolled his eyes. "You're not special."

"What?"

If only the couch could swallow you whole.

"I said you're not special—"

"No, hold on— You slept with her too?" Mingyu asked in complete disbelief.

"Yeah, I did."

"Lord..." you groaned and buried your face further into your hands.

A silence swept over the apartment, and the tension got so thick, you could cut a butter knife into it. You truly thought both men were going to be done with you, think you're a slut, and tell you to get the fuck out of your own apartment. You sighed and placed your hands on your knees, and just as you were about to get up, Mingyu spoke.

"Okay, so, if that's the case... Cutie," the fact that Mingyu still called you by the nickname he gave you did not bode well for you. "Who fucked you better?"

"What?!"

"Who was better?" Mingyu asked again as if you couldn't hear him. "Me or your roommate?"

"I— I— Help," you stammered.

"She's not going to answer that because she shouldn't have to," San nearly spat at the other man.

"Oh, shut up. I know you wanna know, too."

San actually listened to Mingyu and shut up— he did want to know.

"Who?" San asked you in a tiny voice.

"God, what the fuck, you guys?! Just stop!" you finally put your foot down and got off the couch. "Can we just... Do this later?"

"See? She doesn't want to say because she knows I'm better," Mingyu leaned towards San now that you weren't in the middle to keep them apart from each other.

"Shut the fuck up. She's trying not to hurt your feelings, asshole," San leaned forward as well, both men ready to attack each other (although, to you, it looked like a cat and a dog fighting).

"Stop!" you pushed both men from each other again and sat between them once more. "Stop fighting—"

"Then tell us who is better."

"I— I don't— Ugh! Look, I don't remember, okay?" you said with a huff of frustration. "I don't know who is better, so just drop it."

Surprisingly, they dropped it— at least you thought they did. They moved closer to you, one man wrapping his arm around your waist, the other grabbing your arm and thigh, sandwiching you between them.

"Then, we'll just have to fuck you again."

"And you can tell us who's better after."

Before you even had time to process what either of them were saying, Mingyu grabbed your face and started kissing you. Refusing to lose, San took a different route. He sank off the couch and knelt in front of you. He held your knees and opened your legs up before rubbing circles on your clothed clit with his thumb. You couldn't help but moan when you felt San's touch, your entire body reacting to him.

San hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them off you, your panties still clinging to your waist. He resumed rubbing circles on your clit before bringing his face between your legs and licking a stripe over your panties. You tried to close your legs, but San's strength kept one leg in place while his shoulder blocked the other. He pulled your panties to the side before licking your cunt up and down, his tongue gliding through your folds. You ran your fingers through San's hair and pulled in attempt to get him to slow down, but with every tug, San only got more reckless.

"Cutie, pay attention to me, too," Mingyu whispered to you before his tongue dove into your mouth.

Mingyu took your other hand and put it over his crotch, making you feel exactly how hard he got. While you made out with him, you started massaging his cock through his pants, his breath hitching when you squeezed it just right. Truthfully, with the way San was eating you out, you didn't think you had the strength to even hold onto his hair, but you managed to both keep tugging on roots and pull Mingyu's cock out of his pants.

"Fuck," Mingyu mumbled before sharply inhaling. "Oh, God..."

He stopped kissing you and stood up, your eyes barely following him as San used that opportunity to suck sweetly on your clit. Mingyu stripped down and rubbed his insane cock a couple times while nearing your mouth.

"Suck this for me, won't you, cutie?"

You licked your lips before taking Mingyu's cockhead into your mouth, the man immediately shuddering the second he felt your lips. You heard him exhale through grit teeth as you took more of him in. He held the back of your head, but he didn't move you— he just kept his hand planted on you while you moved and occasionally gagged on his length.

San, meanwhile, decided to slip one of his fingers into your cunt, his tongue flicking your sore bud rapidly. He fingered you slowly at first, but every time he heard you slurp Mingyu's cock, he got faster. He added a second finger to the mix before shoving them in you roughly and rapidly, the knot in your stomach tightening at an exponential rate. It was when he added the third finger did you take Mingyu out of your mouth to cry loudly and cum all over San's fingers.

You didn't see it, but there was a slightly triumphant smile on San's face that immediately disappeared when Mingyu guided your head back to his cock. When he felt your hands on his pelvis, Mingyu started throat fucking you, your gagging sounds only getting louder. Saliva started to drip from the corners of your mouth the harder he fucked your mouth, and every so often, he would let you breathe, the thickest snail trail connecting his cock to your mouth.

The sight of you looking completely fucked out by Mingyu's cock was a little too much for him to handle. He let you go and watched you through darkened eyes as your chest moved heavily every time you breathed. Before he got the chance to touch you, though, San— who took off his own clothes— ran his hands up your shirt and bra and went for your breasts.

"How do you feel, baby?" San asked in a gentle voice.

"M-More, Sannie..." you whined.

"Okay, baby, I got you."

San helped you out of the rest of your clothes and tossed them aside while Mingyu sat back down on the couch and nudged your upper body away from him so that you were propping yourself up on your elbows. San brushed your hair out of your face and pet your hair before holding his own cock up to your mouth. He didn't even have to say anything— you opened your mouth automatically for him and started sucking.

"Good girl," San praised as he sighed with pleasure. "That's my baby."

Mingyu had rolled on a condom by this time and was already playing with your cunt when you started sucking San's cock. When he heard San praise you, Mingyu rubbed his cock along your folds before entering you slowly, his cock spreading you open. He groaned softly before bottoming out, making you moan on San's cock.

San's hips rolled towards you as he steadily got more impatient seeing Mingyu fucking you from behind. Mingyu was moving at a slower pace, but San could see that he wanted to go faster and that you wanted more based off the way you were gyrating your hips. He only got more irritated when he saw Mingyu hook his arm under your leg and pull it up and towards his chest. Your cunt was swallowing Mingyu's cock so perfectly, and if Mingyu jerked his hips up just right, his cock would bulge out slightly.

Not only was his cock bulging, but it was also going so deep inside you that you felt your high building again. You took San out of your mouth and turned to face Mingyu while whimpering for more.

"Gyu," you cried. "Harder, please—!"

Mingyu didn't need to be told twice. He rammed his hips into yours, little grunts leaving his chest with every thrust. You reached for his head and ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand grabbing the couch for stability. You were biting your lower lip hard— so hard, in fact, that you were about to make yourself bleed. You would've bled if San hadn't tilted your head towards him and kissed you. He sucked and nibbled on your lower lip while Mingyu continued to fuck you from behind.

The tension within you snapped, and you felt yourself squirting, but Mingyu just kept thrusting through the fluid, soaking you, him, and the couch up.

"Mingyu— Fuck! I'm cum— Ah! Cumming!" you cried while trying to push him away.

Finally, he pulled out, letting you finish in peace. Your entire body trembled as you squirted for what felt like an eternity, and it certainly did not help when Mingyu drove two of his thick fingers into you and fingered you roughly, getting you to cum again. You grabbed at his arm to get him to let up, but Mingyu was strong, and he wanted you to cum until you saw all the stars.

As soon as Mingyu's fingers left your body, San turned you around so that you were pinning Mingyu on the couch before rolling on his own condom. Your chest rubbed against Mingyu's while your ass was high in the air, and you buried your face in the nook of Mingyu's neck the second you felt San's thick cock rub between your asscheeks.

"How are you feeling, cutie?" Mingyu murmured as he ran his hands along your waist and back.

"Gyu— Oh! Oh, fuck!" you cried when San's cock entered you, making you unable to finish your thoughts.

You clung to Mingyu's shoulders as San rut into you, his hands pulling your waist into his cock as he fucked you. You cried out with every thrust, your cunt still recovering from Mingyu fucking you rough and making you cum hard. You were breathing hard and heavily as San's cock filled you up and spread you wide, and you gasped when you felt his hand make contact with your ass.

"Sannie— Oh! Good! Feels so good," you choked out when he spanked you again.

"I didn't know you liked things like that, cutie," Mingyu teased you.

You whined and nodded, your body lurching when San smacked your ass once more.

"What about this?" Mingyu asked as he ran his fingers down your face and to your lips. "Do you like things like this?"

Mingyu stuck his fingers in your mouth, and you immediately started sucking. He bit his lower lip and stared at you hungrily, your heart thumping at the sight. He took his fingers back and brought your head down to kiss him. Your tongue danced with his as he kissed you ferociously, his canine occasionally scratching your lips lightly.

San leaned forward as his thrusts sped up, making your back arch and your chest lower onto Mingyu's, your cries getting louder. The second his cock rubbed against your G-spot, you saw white, and you came, your legs shaking as you screamed in pleasure. San pulled out and spread your ass cheeks, letting you squirt all over the couch and Mingyu's, yours, and his legs.

"Oh.. My God..." you panted while looking back at San.

San chuckled and smoothed out your hair before leaving a fluttering kiss on your temple. The moment was very brief because next thing you knew, Mingyu had turned your attention back to him when he rubbed his cock against your clit then stuff himself inside you.

"Oh, cutie, you're not off the hook just yet," Mingyu tsked. "Don't you think I should get to cum too?"

"Yeah, he's got a point," San added as he prodded his own cock into your already full hole.

"Sannie, no, don't," you started panicking when you felt him start to push his way through. "You won't fit!"

"Just take a deep breath, baby. You can fit both of us," he promised you.

You listened to his soothing voice and inhaled. As you exhaled, San pushed his cock through. Sure, he fit, but you still screamed when you felt both men's big, throbbing cocks inside you. Tears filled your eyes and trickled down your face as San bottomed out, both men wincing at how tight you were with both of them inside.

"I bet you I can last longer," Mingyu challenged San.

"Keep dreaming," San shot back.

You would've smacked the two of them silly if you weren't absolutely losing your mind in that moment. You actually found the words to yell at them, but before you could get them out, the two of them started moving. You felt like your insides were going to get pulled out by the sheer force of their cocks rubbing inside you.

When Mingyu rammed his hips upwards, you felt his cock bulge in you, making you cry loudly; and when San snapped his waist against yours, you felt your arms and legs nearly give out. They were moving slowly, but they were moving so powerfully that you felt every single movement they made vibrate through your entire body.

You don't know who did it, but stars rapidly accumulated in your vision, and you clenched around both men as you came yet again. Your crying moans filled the room, and they were accompanied by both Mingyu and San groaning loudly. When you clenched around their cocks, neither one of them could hold back anymore. They shoved their cocks deep inside you and came loudly, the three of you moaning, groaning, and crying in pleasure.

San pulled out first, and his labored breathing died down when he filled up his condom entirely. Mingyu slipped his cock out shortly thereafter and sighed heavily as his body fully relaxed below you.

"Look at you all fucked out, cutie," Mingyu chuckled as he cupped your face.

"Mmhmm," you mustered out while nuzzling your face into his large palm.

"Hey, now. Don't go making your decision just yet," San, after throwing out his condom, returned to the living room and helped you up to your feet.

You collapsed into San's chest and clung to him, his strong arms holding you up.

"I think she should make the decision now that it's fresh in her mind," Mingyu argued with San yet again.

"Stop," you mumbled. "Don't make me choose..."

"You kind of have to, baby," San whispered.

"Can't I just have both of you?" you whined.

Both Mingyu and San looked at each other with slight surprise.

"You couldn't handle us both this one time, so how are you going to handle both of us for the rest of your life?"

networks:

@atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety