#my touch of humor is always there

[owl127]

Azgeda!Clarke (T)

resurrecting old requests :)

Read on Ao3

It was one of those days where the Coalition meeting brimmed with chaos, a reminder of deeply rooted distrust between clans. Lexa stepped out of the meeting room, where ambassadors still argued in harsh tones and loud voices. On days where escalating insults bordered on violence, Lexa’s hope wavered, but she reminded herself that any sort of heated words were better than civil war. She'd take angry ambassadors over them killing each other's puppies any day.

She nodded at the kind beta who brought her steaming tea, a small reprieve from the battle waiting for her back inside the meeting room. She had barked an order for a short break, the room reeking of alpha and veiled dominance. Lexa had to impose her leadership before things escalated between Floukru and Sangedakru. Another shout rang from the meeting, and Lexa knew Azgeda had entered the argument with the delicacy of a Pauna. 

So much squabbling over the price of salted fish.

The door behind her stretched open, and she had half a mind to wave Titus away, but instead of the submissive presence of her Flamekeeper, another scent enveloped her. 

"Shouldn’t you be inside making sure your ambassadors will not commit murder?" Lexa said sternly, her eyes on her tea. 

The woman behind her pushed back her navy blue hood, her pale scars gleaming silver against her sun-kissed skin."Astrid is a big girl. She can take care of herself."

Lexa did not move other than to look behind her shoulders. "There will be consequences if Azgeda starts a fight."

Unbothered, the intruder took another step, the small chamber behind the meeting room feeling smaller as Lexa breathed her in.

"What kind of consequences?" There was a playful tug to the Azgeda’s smile, teasing, but Lexa did not flinch. 

"Do not take another step if you do not want another mark on that pretty face of yours." 

The smile blossomed into a full grin. 

"You think I’m pretty?"

Green eyes widened slightly at the audacity. A clearing of the throat broke the stare Lexa found herself stuck in, and she turned fully to the door where Titus held it open. The voices from the arguing had died down.

"Heda, the ambassadors are ready to proceed with the meeting," he informed, his eyes avoiding the other presence in the room.

Lexa nodded, noticing how the Azgeda ignored Titus with the same levity as being ignored. 

"Commander." She bowed, and Lexa walked past her, heading back for another round of negotiations. 

"Clarke," she nodded curtly, but Titus' presence had soured the alpha's grin.

It was better that way.

The large meeting room felt hot as Lexa stepped back inside.

000000000

It took another long day of meetings and ordering Titus away from her quarters for Lexa to find herself alone with that scent again. Her fingers rested on an unturned page, and she allowed her shy smile to grow, warming her cheeks. The unfamiliar shrill of nervousness ran down her spine, her belly erupting in expectation.  

The window was carelessly open, with dark curtains fluttering in the wind. Candles burned, forgotten, leaving a hazy scent of flowers to battle the new earthy musk that so uninvitedly affronted Lexa’s nose. 

"I keep forgetting how freaking tall this window is." Clarke, clad in full Azgeda gear, tumbled from the window high in the Polis tower. At the sweaty alpha dusting herself off the floor of her bedroom, Lexa raised one eyebrow. 

"What makes you think you’re welcomed here?"

"The two mean guards at the door who refused to let me in, of course." The big, contagious grin from two days ago had returned. Undeterred, Clarke kicked off her boots and walked to Heda’s bed. 

Lexa watched the confident woman plot unceremoniously next to her, her grin splitting her face in half. Her pale scars danced under the flickering candlelight. When Lexa took her sweet time simply staring at her, the grin turned to the beginning of a frown. 

"Am I not welcome?" Clarke sat on the bed, hands in the air. Her eyebrows knotted in uncertainty, and Lexa finally took pity. 

Lexa reassured her with a warm hand on her cheek. She felt the rigged lines on the tips of her fingers, multiple marks to attest to the warrior’s courage and bravery. A wet tongue met Lexa’s fingers, and she gasped at the touch.

Lexa’s cheeks burned. 

Before Clarke met her in a kiss, Lexa placed a firm hand on her chest. "Don’t pull that again in any other meetings. I do not want to give Titus any more reasons to want your head."

"It was harmless," Clarke defended. Lexa pushed her back again when another kiss was denied. Clarke huffed, her patience never having been a strong virtue.

"No one followed you?" Lexa insisted, clutching at a half-unbuttoned blouse.

"You know I am careful about that." 

"What about the Azgeda ambassador? Won’t she ask about who you’ve been with?"

"I trust Astrid with my life."

"Does she know?" 

"Lexa," Clarke tried, but the omega had turned to stand up from the bed. "We got our scars together. She would never tell."

"The Coalition will be in jeopardy if Nia discovers that her precious general shares my bed," Lexa said mostly to herself, ignoring Clarke's tired sigh. "You will be in danger," she finished with a whisper. 

Lexa had one hand on her chin and the other on her waist, planning different strategies around an irritable Nia to avoid any bloodspill. Clarke approached from behind and, with a little coaxing, wrapped her arms around Lexa so she could rest against her chest. 

"The Coalition is important to me too. I would never risk it," she said to Lexa’s hair, taking a deep breath of Heda. "But more than that, I would never jeopardize us."

Lexa wanted to believe her. She wanted to give herself to the alpha that called to her, to the scent that made her legs tremble and her heart flutter. She wanted to be free and to love Clarke.

So she did.

0000

It was always cold in the Ice Nation. Winter braved their lands earlier and was slow to leave. Close to the coughing fireplace inside the room destined for Heda, Lexa’s bones could not warm up under the unrelenting cold. The open window didn’t help, with the wind bringing bits of snow and invading her warm space. The loud wind and undeniable chill that ran through her spine told her of an upcoming storm. 

The Ice Nation was not welcoming in the least. 

She walked closer to the fire, adjusting the coat that covered most of her frame. One hand rested on the wall while the other, against her better judgment, rested on her lower belly, and she could not suppress a small smile. With her back to the open window, Lexa sighed when quiet feet padded into the bedroom. A smile cracked Lexa’s dry lips when a warm presence approached her from behind.

In the seconds that followed, the warming alpha pheromones that Lexa had expected never reached her nose. Instead, gut-clenching fear invaded her system as someone pushed her roughly against the freezing wall. A fighter held her knee immobilized and her left arm behind her back before Lexa could react. Her mouth opened to call for Anya, who guarded the hallway, but the smooth, chill touch of metal reached her neck, pressing just enough to tickle a line of dark blood. 

"Silence," a voice rasped against her ear, teeth gritting in disgust. 

Lexa cursed herself for not being prepared.

Those damn cold lands. 

The blade sank a breath deeper, and Lexa was ready to shove it back and die fighting, but as soon as it happened, the weight behind her vanished. A heavy grunt followed as the body was thrown haphazardly on the floor, and another alpha, now the familiar scent Lexa expected, jumped on top of the assassin’s body to push her own blade deep into a pulsing neck. Blood gurgled from a parted mouth once and twice until the body under Clarke stopped moving altogether.

Under the fire, the blood shone dark, and Lexa ran a hand over the shallow cut on her own throat. 

"I see you already had company." Clarke failed at her attempt at humor, with her eyes ablaze and her hands trembling. Lexa realized she shared her predicament when the warmth of Clarke's embrace enveloped her. They remained united in the silent room for an undefined moment, the fire suddenly loud as their hearts slowed down. 

A warm hand touched Lexa’s neck, gently, padding at the slow trickle of blood. 

"I’m fine," Lexa said with a peck on Clarke’s lip. "Who was this?" She pointed to the still body on the floor, and Clarke cursed under her breath.

"Doesn’t matter right now." She insisted on the pressure on Lexa’s wound, the blood slowing to a stop. "Are you alright?"

Lexa nodded, one hand resting on top of Clarke’s. "I didn’t come here only for the Coalition." The realization of why she was there came back in a warmth that started in her belly, dissolving the panic that the attempt on her life caused. "I needed to talk to you."

"You need to leave. You and your entourage. You’re not safe here." 

Before what happened that night, Lexa would argue. But the body of an assassin had barely been cold, and she knew she couldn’t find a reason to stay. Clarke’s eyes were dark under the flickering light of the fire, concern etched on every crease of her face. Lexa’s finger followed the scar that started on her eyebrow and outlined her face, dying on the tip of her chin. Clarke shuddered under her touch. 

"I’m sorry, my love, but you need to go." It was painful for Clarke to say that. She turned to kiss the tips of Lexa’s fingers. 

"Anya!" Clarke yelled from the bedroom, and Anya and another Azgeda guard appeared at the door. They both looked at the body on the ground and back at Clarke and Lexa. The guard’s blue eyes widened, and he bolted back to the hallway. 

"Don’t let him escape!" Clarke pointed, and Anya did not need to be told twice. 

Once again alone in the bedroom, Clarke clasped Lexa’s cold hands in hers. "Lexa, you need to go. There will be more." She pointed to the body on the floor with her chin, and Lexa gulped. "Azgeda is not stable right now."

Voices escalated in the hallway, with exalted barks of orders in a mix of trigedasleng and the clipped, guttural Azgeda language.

Clarity shone in Lexa’s eyes. "It's a coup," she breathed. 

Clarke nodded. "That’s why I insisted on you not coming," Clarke said in exasperation, her hands tightening around Lexa’s.

"I needed to talk to you, and letters were not safe," Lexa insisted. 

Quietly, Anya appeared at the door again. A splash of blood stained her cheek, but she did not seem to notice. 

"Heda, we are ready to leave," she said in trigedasleng, and Lexa nodded, but didn’t move. 

"Get my horse ready. I will follow." 

Anya seemed reluctant to leave her alone. She exchanged a small nod with Clarke before running back to the dark hallway. 

"You must follow her," Clarke finally turned around, but Lexa grabbed her hand.

"Clarke." Her voice trembled, and her stomach was in knots at being overwhelmed. She took a deep breath, and under the aggression, she found the calm scent she trusted. Steps reverberated from the corridor, and Clarke pushed them further into the room, her body protecting Lexa from whoever ran down the hall. Lexa’s hand closed on Clarke’s shirt, bringing the alpha’s attention back to her. "Clarke," she pleaded once more.

Clarke huffed a breath, exasperated. "I’m the general of the queen, and I’m leading a coup that might overthrow her, so you better have something very important to say or I—"

"I’m pregnant." 

"—will tie you to that horse, and... what?" 

Clarke’s eyes widened, showing she had understood what Lexa said, and her hands went to her shoulders. "What?" she repeated because there was nothing else she could do. Lexa looked down at her hands, which were still gripped tightly on the coarse material of Clarke’s coat. She couldn’t stare the alpha in the eye. 

"That’s what I needed to tell you," Lexa whispered. Clarke’s eyes searched her face, focusing on the fresh wound on her neck, down to her chest, and finally on her covered abdomen. 

"You sure?" Her voice changed, with a tone of reverence overtaking her earlier despair. Lexa found the courage to look up, finding dark blue eyes again and nodding. Not as far away as Clarke hoped, an explosion sounded in the royal Azgeda complex. A cacophony of voices and shouts cut through the night.

They were running out of time. 

Clarke embraced her lover, pulling her as close as she could, a desperate need to engrave the scent in her mind. When they pulled apart, Lexa did not comment on the coat of wetness on the alpha’s eyes. Clarke drew away with a final nod, a trembling hand over Lexa's covered tummy.

"Name her something soft," Clarke said when she looked up. "Soft but strong."

Lexa swallowed nothing as she nodded. Reluctantly, Clarke stepped back.

A bulking figure stopped at the door. Before Lexa could jump away, the tall man exchanged curt words with Clarke in the harsh way they spoke in their native language. Lexa didn't need to understand the language to understand war.

"You need to go," Clarke repeated with a firm hand on Lexa’s back. "Anya is waiting for you outside." With a single kiss to chapped lips, Lexa left the room where, minutes earlier, she had almost died.

Lexa, Anya, and Gustus made it a few miles away from the Azgeda palace before they heard new explosions. 

00000000000

A fortnight had passed since Lexa made it to Polis. The journey under the storm had made her feel sick, but she wasn’t sure if it was worry or the growing pup inside her. Other clans already knew of the battles happening in the Ice Nation, but no one knew who had emerged victorious. The Coalition had vowed to not intervene, and instead wait for the Azgeda leader, whoever that may be: a rebel general or the ice queen. 

It was late into the night when a knock on her quarters' door woke Lexa from a slumber. She had fallen asleep on her desk, reviewing letters from worried ambassadors. The knock repeated, and Lexa groaned, adjusting her shirt before ordering her guards to open the door. 

"Heda, a messenger has arrived." Noticing the urgency, the guard completed, "A messenger from Azgeda." 

Lexa nodded, stepping outside to make the trip to the main floor of the tower, where she met the messenger. When she arrived, with her sash and coat, she greeted the boy with a nod. Snow was still frozen on the pitiful attempt at a mustache on his red face. He couldn’t have more than fourteen summers, but his warrior scars were long healed. 

"A message for Heda Lexa." He took a respectful bow, even though his legs shook in exhaustion. "For Heda’s hand only," he insisted, a folded piece of paper in his hands. 

Lexa took the paper and ordered her guards, "Find him something warm to eat and a place to rest." 

Before the redheaded boy could leave, he bowed once more to Lexa. "A message, Heda, from King Roan." 

Lexa’s heart fluttered at the news. Her eyes remained calm, and she nodded at the boy. 

King Roan.

Not Queen Nia.

She smiled.

0000000

Winter's deep, cold claws were receding from Polis, and the first flowers bravely emerged from the warming soil. With another treaty season on the horizon, new Council meetings loomed, and ambassadors and their representatives filled Polis with different colors and products. The market was as alive as ever, with pups running around among the new scents. 

Black consumed the sky in the late winter night. Lexa shuffled in bed, sleep a hard commodity as her body adjusted to the changes. The wind agitated the curtains, and there was a quiet grunt as a body rolled from the window without a single ounce of grace.

Lexa smiled into her furs.

"Bloody hell, this tower is so high." The woman inhaled deeply from the ground, her arms spread wide across the wooden floor. "Why do you stay on the top floor again?"

"It’s not the top floor."

Clarke made her way from the floor to the bed, and they both sighed in relief as they met in a long-awaited hug. Lexa melted against the arms around her.

"I missed you," Clarke whispered over the intricate braids, nudging the soft skin behind Lexa’s ear. 

"I wasn’t sure if you would make it. Ambassador." She turned to meet Clarke’s eyes, both their hands resting instinctively over Lexa’s belly. Clarke stared between them in awe. 

"You’ve grown."

"Measure your words." 

"I missed you."

"Please use the door next time."

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

All the movie directors prior to January of 2017 really said “Hurt; no comfort,” huh?

[eve-is-a-terf]

being just like your mom when your parents are divorced is a little interesting... like how can he love me when i inherited myself from her

[sailforvalinor]

King Lear may be my least favorite Shakespeare play for a lot of reasons, but I have to say, one part I'm absolutely fascinated with is Edgar's performance as "Poor Tom," because bestie. Bestie. For a crown prince soon-to-be king, you are...terrifyingly good at this madman act. How--how are you so good at this? Have you been practicing? Almost nothing coming out of your mouth makes sense and yet it's...fascinating? Where did this stream of nonsense come from? Are you okay?

[pettyprocrastination]

Javi G, because you’d be each others cheerleaders. I also feel like you’d ground him a bit, encourage him to be more authentic. And he’d have your writing showing up in every magazine he could get it to… to such an extent I feel like you’d have to talk about how, while it is exciting having your stuff published, there’s also the sense of accomplishment from having it get through on your own merits.

Then after you get that all out he tells you he didn’t pay for your stuff to be approved, because he knows the value of having something successes on its own merits, he just us a whole spreadsheet of publishers that he regularly checks up on for their submission info and windows. He’s never take that legitimacy from you.

He would spoil you with some quality kit though, finally get your hands on that serger you want

note :')

tell me who you ship me with!

[hoshigray]

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.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[mulanism]

lovesick ryomen sukuna is literally infesting my mind and giving me brainworms and i don’t think anyone gets it. how absolutely smitten sukuna would become with you, the puny little human he had originally thought to be unworthy of his gaze, let alone his time and attention.

it's nothing but time, the healer and killer of all things, that makes this cursed man realize just how much his entire world revolves around you. how he'd end humanity itself before he'd allow things to be any other way between you two.

lovesick sukuna who loathes being in proximity to those he deems as insignificant and inferior. he gets awfully irritated breathing the same air as those lowly underlings, and he predictably doesn’t like the touch of anyone else.

but when it comes to you, he has this unbridled desire to always be skin-to-skin, to keep you flush against his massive body and never let go until he absolutely has to. it's troublesome, but the weight of you in his lap keeps him oddly pacified whether he wants to acknowledge his restrained and mellowed demeanor in your presence or not.

lovesick sukuna who doesn’t like when others try to touch him in any way, shape, or form. but he’d let you do anything. you could dig your nails into his skin, tear his heart out, and he’d do absolutely nothing to stop you.

he is completely yours, just as you are completely his.

suggesting that sukuna enjoys your touch earns you nothing but unwarranted ridicule and excessive condemnation from him if you ever mention it; his chest rumbles as he reprimands you for being so foolish—all while he makes no move to stop your hands from brushing those wisps of pink hair away from his line of sight. he doesn't even interfere when your tender lips carefully brush against the tattoo markings littered across his face.

lovesick sukuna who is fully aware of how much he likes to return your touch, too. there was a time when he told himself he was far too busy to wallow in trivial matters of the flesh; but now it has gotten to a point where he can't stop himself from indulging in yours.

you feel so soft, so supple, and warm beneath his calloused fingers. sukuna's hands are big—large enough that a single hand of his almost completely covers the expanse of your tummy. the size difference between you two both humors and fascinates him, so much that he can't stop himself from kneading the plush of your stomach or the soft flesh of your thighs. it was sukuna's nature to barbarously ruin and pulverize everything he got his hands on, but here you were being the only exception.

lovesick sukuna who is never one to hold back in anything he does, yet he finds himself handling you with a little bit of care that he wouldn't dare extend to another soul on this earth. truthfully, he wants to devour you completely, but he understands he could snap you in half if he doesn't remain mindful about the amount of force he's exerting when he's bending and twisting and handling you every which way.

he has his moments where his uninhibited carnality and lust speak for him; when he loses control of himself and lets out out those guttural sounds that he never lets slip through his lips unless he's with you. sounds that are never heard outside of your most intimate moments, like the ones where he can't stop marking you and leaving behind dark, purple love-bites that will last a little while longer than usual.

lovesick sukuna has moments where his senses are clouded with the smell and taste of you as you exhale softly through parted, kiss-swollen lips while you lay dazed beneath him. those moments where he's kissed you for far too long and taken nearly all of the oxygen out of your lungs. vermillion eyes watch as your chest heaves and you puff out those small little breaths, and sukuna thinks it's cute how he can render you that way with little else but a kiss.

lovesick sukuna who thinks you are ignorant. he believes you don't truly realize the power you hold over him. you don't truly comprehend how he would scorch and set ablaze the entire world on your command. all you had to do was say the word, and he'd do anything. it's a bit unsettling to think about how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it, but there's a part of sukuna that's in no rush to reveal such a vulnerability to you.

sukuna is not one for sweetly saccharine words and sentiments—but if there is one thing that rings true, it’s that his mind is constantly consumed by you—you, you, you.

[the-ellia-west]

HOW TO WRITE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION FOR DUMMIES

For anyone who wants to learn, (especially aro/ACE, aspec, ect.)

Requested by the lovely @darkandstormydolls

Alrighty! Welcome back or welcome to my blog! I'm dipping my toes back into the category of posts that gained me my exposure!

So if you're here, you want to know how to write romantic attraction/romance!

Strap in and let's begin!

(Pls spread this to people you think would benefit from seeing it, or anyone who requested it bc I forgot, ANY ASPECS)

Step one -

Your characters must admire one another at the beginning, Romantic feelings usually do not present themselves as obvious until you really think them through, meaning your characters may not notice they have a crush until it's too late

These are general statistics and light stereotypes. So feel free to not use this tip:

Male characters usually tend to notice physical things first, like body shape, hair, skin, clothing, the way their lover moves, ect

And Female Characters Generally tend to notice more small things and personality-based traits first, like their lover's humor, speaking mannerisms, shifts in expression, ways they fidget, emotion in their voice, ect.

And someone who is in love will generally show more interest in this particular person's movements, actions, words, and anything in general.

Step 2 -

The character will show more interest in sharing their love language with their lover/crush

Physical touch - People with physical touch love languages may want to hold hands, cuddle, hug, or just lean on their crush whenever they are close to them moreso than they want to with others

Gift giving - Gift givers will want to get more gifts more often for their crush, probably thinking of them whenever they see little trinkets or wanting to get them big gifts for special occasions or signs of appreciation

Acts of Service - Acts of service people will offer to do extra favors and a bunch of extra stuff they don't have to do twice as much as normal

Words of Affirmation - Flattery, they will generally flood their crush with kind words and compliments

Quality time - Quality time people will want to spend time with their crush at almost every turn, and when they want company, will turn to their crush first

Step 3 -

After a while, these urges while become very prominent and more noticeable to the person having them

They may find themselves fantasizing about their crush or having them show up in their thoughts more and more, feeling nicer and happier when they're around, or when they're thinking about them

Smiling when they think about them, cutsey little fluff thingies like that

A crush is essentially: I want to date that, I want to be near that always, I want to marry that, I want that to snuggle me (or other love languages)

Or in simpler terms: if that asked me out, I would say yes (or at least want to say yes if your character is in denial)

Step 4 -

The character's urges to be close to this person grows strong enough that they do smth about it, whether prompted by another character. Or they just don't know I how to not anymore (like when you wanna eat candy and you don't want to, but you do anyway bc I JUST NEED THE CHOCOLATE OKAY?)

(Or for Aro/Ace, garlic bread)

People who are in love are generally very prone to be all dreamy and poetic and VERY EXTREMELY BIASED towards their crush

Then Yada Yada they kiss & shit

You're welcome, BYEEEEEEEE 👋

Happy writing!

Love you! Thanks for reading, And Ghost Tumblr Mother says go drink some water and have a snack, you've earned it, and you are beautiful <333

Have a good day! :]

@blue-kyber @thisisntrocket @cosmolumine @i-do-anything-but-write @paeliae-occasionally

@supercimi @the-letterbox-archives @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @artsandstoriesandstuff

@corinneglass @wyked-ao3 @urnumber1star

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[pucksandpower]

Rained Out

Toto Wolff x pregnant!Reader

Summary: a series of unfortunate events pushes Toto’s protective side to the surface

Based on this request

The rain drums steadily against the pavement, creating a shimmering curtain that obscures the bustling Canadian Grand Prix paddock from view. You stand just outside the entrance, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly, the other clutching your useless paddock pass. The security guard eyes you sympathetically but remains firm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you in if your pass isn’t scanning,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

You bite your lip, frustration and discomfort warring within you. “Please, I’m Toto Wolff’s wife. I’m sure this is just a technical glitch. If you could just call him-”

The guard shakes his head. “I’ve already radioed in. Mr. Wolff is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’m truly sorry, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait until we can verify your identity.”

A shiver runs through you as the wind picks up, sending icy droplets cascading down your neck. Your thin jacket, hastily thrown on before leaving the hotel, offers little protection against the elements. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your unborn child from the chill.

Time crawls by at an agonizing pace. Other team members and officials hurry past, sparing curious glances at the very pregnant woman standing forlornly in the rain. You try Toto’s phone again, willing it to ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is likely only thirty minutes, a familiar voice cuts through the monotonous patter of rain.

“Schatz! Oh mein Gott, what are you doing out here?”

Toto appears, his tall frame moving with surprising speed. His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your bedraggled state.

“The pass ... it wouldn’t scan,” you manage through chattering teeth. “They couldn’t reach you.”

Toto’s face darkens as he turns to the security guard. “How could you leave my pregnant wife standing in this weather? Do you have any idea-”

You place a gentle hand on his arm. “Toto, don’t. He was just doing his job.”

The anger in Toto’s eyes softens as he looks at you, replaced by guilt and worry. He shrugs off his team jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, ushering you quickly through the now-open gate.

“Come, let’s get you inside and dry,” he murmurs, his arm protectively around your waist.

As you enter the relative warmth of the Mercedes garage, the bustle of pre-race preparations momentarily halts. All eyes turn to you and Toto, taking in your drenched appearance.

“Somebody get some towels!” Toto barks, his accent thickening with stress. “And find some dry clothes!”

You lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. “I’m okay, really,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Just a bit damp.”

Toto’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit damp? Liebling, you look like you’ve been swimming in your clothes.”

Despite your discomfort, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I always did want to try synchronized swimming. Though I imagined a pool, not a parking lot.”

Toto’s lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through his worry. “Your sense of humor remains intact, I see.”

A team member approaches with a stack of fluffy towels and what appears to be team-issued sweats. Toto takes them with a nod of thanks.

“Can you manage changing by yourself?” He asks quietly. “Or do you need help?”

You consider for a moment. While you’d normally insist on independence, your sodden clothes are clinging uncomfortably, and your fingers feel numb from the cold.

“I ... might need a hand,” you admit sheepishly.

Toto nods, guiding you towards a more private corner of the garage. He helps you peel off the wet layers, his touch gentle and reverent as it skims over your rounded belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs as he helps you into the dry clothes. “I should have made sure your pass was working properly. I should have answered my phone.”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Hey, none of that. It was just a silly mix-up. No harm done.”

Toto’s brow furrows. “No harm? You were standing in the freezing rain for God knows how long! You could get sick, or the baby-”

“The baby is fine,” you interrupt, placing his large hand on your stomach. As if on cue, there’s a strong kick against his palm. “See? Still doing somersaults in there.”

Some of the tension leaves Toto’s shoulders, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Still, I want Dr. Müller to check you over, just to be safe.”

You nod, knowing arguing would be pointless. “Alright, if it will make you feel better. But first ...” You glance meaningfully at the bustling garage around you. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto hesitates, clearly torn between his professional duties and his desire to fuss over you. You give him a gentle push.

“Go on. I promise I’ll sit quietly and drink something warm until the doctor arrives.”

He searches your face for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But you call me immediately if you feel even slightly unwell, verstanden?”

“Verstanden,” you echo with a smile. “Now go be the big, scary team principal everyone expects.”

Toto chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I had an inkling,” you tease. “Now scoot!”

As Toto reluctantly returns to his duties, you settle into a chair, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea from a hovering team member. The garage slowly returns to its normal frenetic pace, though you notice several concerned glances thrown your way.

You’re halfway through your tea when a familiar face appears at your side. Lewis crouches down, his expression a mix of worry and amusement.

“I hear you tried to stage your own wet race out there,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “What can I say? I was feeling left out of all the excitement.”

Lewis chuckles, then his face grows more serious. “You alright though? For real?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit waterlogged. Though I think Toto might spontaneously combust from worry.”

As if summoned by his name, Toto appears behind Lewis. “Yes, Dr. Müller, thank you for coming on such short notice. She’s right here.”

You shoot Lewis an exasperated look that clearly says ‘see what I mean?’ He responds with a sympathetic pat on your shoulder before rising.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Try not to give the old man a heart attack before the race, yeah?”

Toto scowls playfully at Lewis’ retreating back. “I heard that!”

As Dr. Müller begins her examination, Toto hovers anxiously nearby, his eyes darting between you and the various race preparations happening around the garage.

“Toto,” you call softly. “I can practically hear you thinking from here. What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of stress. “I just ... I can’t stop thinking about you standing out there in the rain. What if something had happened? What if-”

“But nothing did happen,” you interrupt gently. “I’m fine, the baby’s fine. It was just a bit of rain.”

Toto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. I should have been there. I should have made sure you were taken care of. What kind of husband, what kind of father am I going to be if I can’t even-”

“Stop right there,” you say firmly. “You are going to be an amazing father, Toto Wolff. You already are. Do you know how I know?”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Because you care this much,” you explain. “Because even in the middle of one of the biggest race weekends of the year, your first thought is for me and our baby. That’s what matters, not some silly mishap with a security pass.”

Toto’s eyes soften, and he moves to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

Dr. Müller clears her throat, reminding you both of her presence. “Well, I’m happy to report that both mother and baby are perfectly healthy. No signs of distress or illness from the exposure to the cold.”

The relief on Toto’s face is palpable. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s wonderful news.”

As Dr. Müller packs up her equipment, you turn to Toto with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m not about to melt from a little rain, what do you say we focus on winning this race?”

Toto laughs, the remaining tension finally leaving his body. “Always keeping me on track, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you tease. “Now, go lead your team to victory. Your very pregnant, very proud wife will be cheering you on from right here.”

Toto leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”

As he straightens up, resuming his role as the formidable Mercedes team principal, you can’t help but smile. Come rain or shine, paddock pass or no paddock pass, you know that you and Toto can weather any storm together.

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged HCs

I started Love and Deepspace yesterday so please have my slightly unhinged HCs for the men so far. And minors don’t you dare interact

Part 2

Rafayel

He’s a biter. Leaves you covered in marks from your neck all the way down your thighs.

Plans a date where he’s laid out a huge canvas on the floor of his studio, puts your fave color paint on your hands and his favorite color on his hands, plus several globs of the two colors across the canvas, and then proceeds to have the wildest three rounds of sex on that canvas as it gets progressively more covered in paint. Sells the painting for 6 figures a few weeks later and uses it as an excuse that you need to make more of them.

Tells you his best masterpiece is painting your body with his cum—got really into it once and dipped the paint brush into your cunt to collect his cum and then painted it across your breasts

Has a secret sketch book that’s nothing but pictures of you. Lots of them are of you sleeping when he can study your features but there’s still quite a few he drew from memory.

Made you lay down naked with your legs spread and be still so he could draw the most detailed image of your pussy you could possibly imagine. It’s his personal fave that no one besides him will ever see.

Sees shibari as a beautiful art form and likes to practice with you—has a whole album in his phone just of pics of you tied up all pretty for him

Rarely gets soft in a serious way, he much prefers the teasing back and forth you two usually have.

Xavier

He’s definitely broken into your room Edward Cullen style and watched you sleep

His favorite dates are taking you into the forest at night to watch the stars and moon together. Bonus points if you come across a wanderer and get to fight together.

Clingy after you become his, always wants to be touching you and doesn’t let you out of his sight (and yes that means sometimes he’s following you but it’s just because you’re brave and reckless and he worries)

When he eats you out, he holds both your hands in his for you to hold on to and does it with no hands—makes you cum more times on his tongue than you could fathom (and yes, he’s eating you for his pleasure)

Downloaded a tracker into your watch so he can know where you are at all times

Gets horny when he watches you fight and has def pulled you aside during a mission for a quickie in which you end up having your cunt stuffed with cum for the remainder of the mission

Such a cuddler but like a cat where he only wants to cuddle if he wants to—falls asleep nearly instantly in your arms like the cute sleepyhead he is

Zayne

Finds it so cute the first time he comes to your apartment and sees all the little snow creatures he’d made you sitting in a windowsill together. Makes you so many more after that. Sends you a bouquet of flowers made from his ice too (#Elsa)

Has food delivered to you at lunch on days he knows you’re super busy so you don’t forget to eat since you often forget to take care of yourself (he doesn’t mind too much since he likes that you let him take care of you)

Prefers kisses over hugs, except when he’s sad because of a patient (then he likes the warm comfort of your hugs)

Moves his glasses to the top of his head and rubs the bridge of his nose when he gets really stressed

Brings you a mild painkiller after blowing your back out, a smug but tiny smile on his lips, and tells you, “I was a bit rough so humor me and take this medicine. I don’t want you in excess pain because of me.”

Loves when you want to lay on his chest when he’s reading through cases and medical journals at night. He’ll read them out loud until you fall asleep and then finish them quietly as you snore softly into his chest

Calls you before a difficult surgery because your voice instantly calms him down

Into bondage—specifically he likes to tie you up so you can’t escape when he starts to overstimulate you. He really can’t help it, you just make such pretty noises for him when he gets you to that point that he has to keep going

Tags: @adaurielle @luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

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

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

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

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

(Unfortunately)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

"And he likes you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

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

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's just something about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “My best friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your taste is… amazing.”

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you wished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

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

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

He smirks. “Close second.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

Jeno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────────────────

Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awww.” You coo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he realise how hot that was?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You also love when he kisses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[princessbellecerise]

First Impressions

Summary ✩ If you want to make a good impression on your boyfriend’s family, then you probably shouldn’t get caught naked together

Warnings ✩ Smut, college!jace, Jace likes slow passionate sex I don’t make the rules, so many innuendos, Jace and the reader literally get caught by his whole family, humor, lowkey a crack fic

“But what if they don’t like me?”

“Babe, relax. They’ll love you.”

Jace stroked your arm lovingly as you sat on his dorm room bed, nerves and anxiety nearly eating you alive.

You were in the middle of finals, and not only that, Jace’s family had decided to come up for the weekend and visit him before winter vacation.

Every year, he usually travelled back overseas to be with them, but this year his family decided to stay in the United States and celebrate the holidays over here.

As his girlfriend, you were understandably worried because it meant that you’d be meeting them for the first time. Jace tried to reassure you that your fears didn’t matter, and that they’d love you despite what you thought, but you simply weren’t convinced.

“But what if they hate me?” You continued, chewing on your lip as you looked at him. “What if…what if they think I’m too…American or something?”

“What? Too American?” Jace snorted. “What does that even mean?” You groaned.

“It means they might hate me, or my accent, and they might try and set you up with a British girl or something, I don’t know.”

To your displeasure, Jacaerys merely laughed which made you pout.

“Jace! This is serious!” You whined at him, smacking his arm playfully. He shook his head.

“Like I said, they will love you and they will be very excited to see you. Especially my mother. She’s been dying to meet you ever since I told her about you.”

“But—!”

“No buts! Everything will be fine,” Jacaerys cooed, and you sighed as you buried your head in his chest.

“I hope you’re right,” You mumbled miserably, not wanting to even think about him being wrong. You loved Jace so much, and you couldn’t imagine not being accepted by the ones he loved the most. No matter how many times he reassured you that they would, the thought still terrified you to your core.

“Of course I am,” Jacaerys leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you as he did. “How could anyone not love you? You’re perfect.”

Quickly, a small rush of embarrassment flooded to your cheeks but luckily it was hidden.

“You really think so?” You mumbled again, and this time you felt Jace pulling you away from his chest so that you could look him in the eye.

Two pools of warm honey held nothing but confidence and reassurance as he nodded. “Of course,” Jace confirmed sweetly, and then he sealed his promise with a kiss.

Smiling, you welcomed his lips and relaxed as your fears began to melt away. As always, Jace had a habit of being able to calm you with the slightest touch, and now as you felt his plump lips against yours, your worries evaporated.

It was like magic how you could be so worked up one minute, and then completely like putty in his arms in the next. Forgetting your anxiety, you deepened the kiss with Jace and panted as you felt his hands roam over your body.

“Shouldn’t we…shouldn’t we be getting ready?” You asked him quietly, pulling away as you felt him hardening underneath you.

“We’ve still got,” Jace picked up his phone and tapped on the screen, grinning when it read 5:52pm. “Two hours until dinner, I think? That’s plenty of time.”

You grinned back and sank into another kiss, this time bringing your hands up to tangle in his curls. They were soft against your fingertips; a weapon you used to render your boyfriend defenseless as you crawled on top of him.

Moaning, Jace held your hips as you began to grind them, feeling the way his cock got hard as you did so. Jace’s hockey hoodie and your thin sleep shorts left minimum barriers between the two of you, but still, it was too much.

You needed to feel him as desire pooled in between your legs, a little wet spot forming on the crotch of your shorts.

“Jace. Help me take this off,” You said against his lips, and Jace, all too eager, obeyed.

You felt his strong hands tug on the band of your shorts, pulling them off and throwing them across the room. Then, Jace reached for the hoodie and pulled it up just enough to expose your tits, but he kept it on you because he loved the way you looked in it.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Jacaerys groaned, leaning up to suck on one of your buds as you continued rocking against him.

The feeling of his soft tongue made your core clench with anticipation, throwing your head back as you panted. You weren’t really in a rush, so Jace took his time; sucking and biting and licking your flesh as he pleased.

Already, you could feel the marks on your skin forming, and you lightly pushed his chest to get him to stop.

“Don’t give me a hickey right before I meet your family,” You warned, but the damage was done and Jace was quite proud as he admired his work.

“Oops.” Your boyfriend smirked up at you, and then you squealed as he flipped you around. Now, your back was against his chest and Jace propped your hips up so that your ass was in the air.

You could feel him begin to grind against you now, pressing his hard cock against your body as his kissed his way down it.

He started with your neck, nipping at your sweet spots before eventually going lower. Jace pushed the hoodie up so he could kiss along your spine, leaving little marks wherever he pleased. While he did that, you shivered as his hands occupied themselves with your cunt, teasing your wet folds and ghosting over your clit.

“Jace,” You whined in the pillow, desperate for more friction as you wiggled against him. You were burning up, aching for his touch; and luckily your boyfriend wasn’t a cruel man.

“I’ve got you, Princess. Don’t worry,” He cooed softly. You felt the bed dip as he moved in between your thighs, placing a delicate kiss to each before going where you needed him most.

“God…” You moaned, biting the pillow as Jace’s lips attached to your cunt, tongue darting out to taste you.

He went slow at first, dipping his tongue in between your folds and circling your entrance. You whined as Jace pushed in, tongue-fucking you while his fingers came to play with your clit. His other hand occupied itself with steadying your trembling hips, keeping your cunt firmly pressed against his face as he messily ate you out from behind.

“Fuck, fuck! Jace!”

His name fell from your lips like a chant, your thighs shaking as your orgasm approached. If you could, you would’ve tugged on his curls but you had to settle for gripping the bedsheets as you made a mess on his tongue.

To Jace, you tasted so sweet that he just couldn’t help but to lap it all up; face getting drenched with the evidence of your arousal. He reached out to message your trembling thighs, placing little kisses on them before turning you over.

As he did, you couldn’t help but think how hot your boyfriend looked after eating you out. His face was glistening with your cum, his pupils blown and eager for more.

He couldn’t get the condom on fast enough, and you nearly started drooling when he teased his swollen cock head in between your folds.

You were still sensitive by the time he started to push in, but you welcomed his cock and eagerly held his body close to yours. As always, Jace held your hand and let out a shaky breath as he entered you. With his forehead pressed to yours, he gazed into your eyes and sank into your cunt until there was nothing left for him to give.

“Fuck!”

The two of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out, Jace trembling above you as your warm cunt squeezed him. He leaned down to capture your lips in a long, deep kiss, loving to make out with you while he fucked you.

It was one thing to be inside of you, but with Jace, he always felt the need to be consumed by you, taking you in every way he could think of. His lips upon yours, his hands holding yours, his cock deep inside of you.

The closeness, the sheer intimacy of it all always drove your boyfriend crazy, as he wanted to think of and feel nothing but expect for you. No matter what, Jace always poured everything he had into you—every bit of love, want, desire.

You could feel it in the way he moved his hips, desperately chasing the high only you could bring him to. You spread yourself eagerly below him, taking, wanting, craving for the same things.

Together, you held one another as your bodies moved in sync, giving and taking and fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jace’s cock began to tighten as he neared his release. Likewise, your core clenched, your head becoming fuzzy as he brushed against your sweet spot over and over again. Just as you pulled away from his kiss, your own lips—plump and swollen—let out a gasp as you came around him. All that you could see, all you taste and feel was Jacaerys as pleasure completely took over your senses.

And then, not even a second later Jace was collapsing as well, panting as he spilled himself into the condom.

You had the pleasure of hearing his sweet sounds as he did, rubbing his back and his ass gently to coax him. By the time he was finished, the condom was filled to the brim and Jace pulled it off, lazily tying it up and throwing it in the trashcan.

Pink puffy lips, bruised from kissing you and biting them so hard when he came, once again ghosted over your skin, Jace leaving a kiss on your forehead before collapsing beside you.

“I love you,” Your boyfriend said gently, taking your face into his hands. Soft cheek pressed against soft cheek as you curled into one another, still panting and glowing and smiling from your highs.

“I love you too,” You giggled as he squeezed your cheeks, pressing them together so your lips jutted out like a fish. “I lobe you, I lobe you, I lobe you, I lobe you—”

Jace laughed at your disordered speech, just about to comment on it when suddenly the door flung open, and Cregan Stark stood with his entire family behind him as he grinned.

“Surprise!”

“What the—?”

The smile on your lips died as you froze in shock, eyes coming to settle on the plethora of people that filed into the room.

They hadn’t noticed it yet, not until it was too late. There were six people in total, all too busy grinning with anticipation and chattering excitedly until they noticed exactly what they had stumbled upon—a very naked Jacaerys and his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Rhaena, who you had seen before in FaceTime calls and followed on Instagram, was the first to notice your predicament. Their eyes widened when they looked at Jace, stuttering but not able to warn anyone in time. “I…”

“Oh shit!”

“Are they—?”

“Dude!”

Jace was much faster than you to react; shouting at Cregan and telling him to close the door while his roommate stood there in shock.

Behind him, you could hear laughter and horrified shouts as Jace’s family looked at the scene; his step-sister Baela cracking up while who you presumed was his mother gasped.

“Jacaerys—” The white haired woman blinked, dumbfounded, and of course you would have the absolute unfortunace of locking eyes with her right before Jace exclaimed,

“Mom! Get out!”

The door slammed shut just as Jace began to scurry up, his face a violent shade of red as you blinked. In that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream or just straight up die as you looked at Jace, horrified as you covered your naked body.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know…” He rapidly shook his head, trying to explain but you could obviously tell he wasn’t expecting his family to come here.

You were supposed to meet them at the restaurant at seven, and you still thought you had time to get yourself presentable.

You wanted to make a good first impression on the people who would hopefully be your future in laws, but now though, there was no such luck. His whole family had seen you naked, and now you had no fucking clue how you’d ever leave this room without wanting the ground to swallow you up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What are we going to do?” You asked, panicked as Jace paced around the room. “Your mother—Jace, your mom just saw my fucking pussy!”

“Or maybe she didn’t,” Jace countered, trying to delude himself and you into thinking the situation wasn’t that bad. It didn’t work. “Maybe they…maybe they only saw us in the covers, but didn’t see anything else.”

“Yeah right,” You scoffed, knowing damn well that wasn’t the case. “I’m pretty sure they’ve seen more of me than you ever have!”

“Shit!”

Jace ran a hand through his curls as commotion sounded outside. Cregan panicking and Baela laughing and Luke so horrified all he could do was stare at the wall.

They were all waiting out there to meet you but, “I can’t ever show my face again,” You wailed. “I was right. They’re gonna hate me and think I’m a slut and they’re never gonna want to see me again!”

“That’s not true,” Jace insisted, shaking his head. “Babe, they would never think that about you.”

“Yeah! We’d never—” Rhaena’s voice became muffled as Rhaenyra scolded them, but the fact that they could hear what you were saying just made you want to die even more.

“Jesus Christ. Is there no end to the embarrassment?” You groaned, flopping on Jace’s bed. You buried your face into the pillow while Jace rubbed circles on your back, torn between comforting you and yelling at Rhaena to fuck off.

“It’s alright. It’ll be alright,” Your boyfriend said awkwardly. “The best thing that we can do is to just go out there, and forget this ever happened, yeah? I’m sure after a few drinks no one will even remember this.”

Which might’ve been true, if half his family wasn’t under 21 and couldn’t drink in the USA.

You groaned. “Ihatemylife.”

“What?”

“I said I hate my life,” You pouted at Jace, pulling your face from the covers. “Only something like this could happen to me.” But eventually, you agreed to just bite the bullet.

You knew you couldn’t hide forever, and as much you wanted to, you couldn’t avoid the six people standing outside waiting for you and Jace either.

No matter how undignified you felt, you still got ready and you took a deep breath as Jace grabbed your hand.

“Let’s go meet them properly this time, shall we?”

—

“So how’s the bed—I mean, the bread! Sorry!” Luke blushed deeply while you sank into your seat, utterly mortified while Jace tensed beside you.

He still had yet to relax even though the incident had happened hours ago, and his family was graceful enough not to mention it save for a few accidental innuendos and stray giggles as they recalled the moment.

Cregan, who was also invited along, hadn’t stopped sending either of you apologetic looks since it was his idea to bring them to surprise Jace.

The poor guy had a wanted to do a nice thing for his best friend and ended up humiliating him in the process.

But you were so embarrassed you didn’t even care, not being able to even look at Luke while you answered.

“It’s good,” You told him meekly, even though it was obvious you had barely touched it. “A little hard, but...”

Daemon snickered as you suddenly stopped, stomach dropping when you realized you said. “I-I mean…I didn’t…”

“Babe,” Jace gave you look as he squeezed your hand under the table, shooting his step father an angry glare. “He knows what you meant. Right, Luke?”

“Yeah.” The sophomore in high school didn’t say anything else as he picked at his appetizer.

You sighed.

Quite frankly, it was awkward all around, making you feel like you should have just stayed in your dorm room.

What was supposed to be a normal family dinner was now overshadowed by the incident, and you felt like no matter what you did, something brought it up.

The last thing you wanted to do was make a bad first impression, and you had made an impression alright.

You cleared your throat. “So how was the flight?” You asked no one in particular, desperately wanting to change the subject. You didn’t think you’d survive another minute of this if not, but thankfully Rhaena ended up being the one who answered you.

“It was boring. Kind of long, actually,” They shrugged. And then they added, “T-The flight, I mean,” which only made the situation worse.

Baela shook her head. “I don’t know. It was kind of short to me,” She grinned, laughing when Jace glared and kicked her under the table.

“Baela!” Rhaenyra scolded her, shaking her head. Like you, the woman seemed to be at her wits end with how much more she could take.

It was embarrassing enough for you to experience it, but you couldn’t imagine catching your own son naked. Rhaenyra was probably the only one more mortified than you and Jace, and so she was a bit more sympathetic than the rest of her family.

“That’s enough. Stop torturing the poor girl, will you?”She warned. “Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry,” She then said gently, and you gave her a tight smile, hating yourself for not ordering a stronger drink.

Thankfully though, you were saved by the waitress coming around. You and Jace let out a sigh of relief as the food momentarily distracted everybody. Baela stopped smirking, eyeing her spaghetti with joy. Daemon no longer stared at you accusingly, just waiting to for the chance to jump in and embarrass Jace. Eveything seemed fine again; that is until she set Jace’s entree down.

“And here is that shrimp for you, sir,” She smiled at him politely, and you could see Cregan absolutely loosing it as he stood up.

“Fuck—I’m sorry man. I can’t, I just…” He crackled all the way to the bathroom, his laugher echoing through the whole restaurant. A few people stared at him as he passed, but the waitress didn’t seem too bothered by it.

She turned to Rhaenyra, handing her a red drink and said, “And here is that cocktail for you.”

Rhaenyra stared at the drink, not even knowing what to say as her children burst into giggles. Not even Daemon could hold himself back, laughing into his wine while Jace laid his head on the table.

“Is there anything else I can get for you all?” The waitress asked, chewing her lip at the scene. She obviously didn’t understand what was going on or why everything she said was so funny.

“A gun,” Jace whispered from beside you, catching her attention. His red face was as buried into his arms due to permanent shame. “I would like for you to bring me a gun, please.”

“Excuse me?” Your waitress reeled back, her eyes going wide at Jace’s words. The tray she carried momentarily shook in her hands, and—not wanting for her to call the police and make this an even worse situation—you quickly stepped in.

“I-I think he means that we’re all satisfied, thank you,” You told her weakly.

Your whole body burned from shame and embarrassment, and you were surprised that you didn’t catch on fire right then and there. You certainly wished you would, as it would save you from the absolute worst dinner of your life.

The woman nodded slowly. “Alright then. Enjoy,” She said cautiously.

And then, without missing a beat, Baela looked straight at you and giggled. “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

[ramonathinks]

Fuck it, Guess We Both Ain't Shit — GOJO

summary: as meg said, “quit asking when imma leave my n*gga, knowin’ you still with your bitch”

cw// 18+, MDNI cheating, sex, fingering, oral, risky sex, geto slander, squirting, choking, slight impact play, sappy moments,

tagging -> @satorubi @sunasbon haha. dividers by @/cafekitsune word counter: 1.1k just a little thirst/drabble :p

“he’s your best friend” this was a conversation almost twice a week, with him on his knees looking right at your puffy clit, spreading your legs wide enough so he can fit through, though just barely.

“and she’s your roommate” he huffs out a laugh, kissing the bud and you flinch back, legs trembling.

“ah– fuck… fuck you.” even with saying that, you open your legs more, waiting and wanting for him to have his fill of you. his fingers, his tongue, his cock was all you could think of most days and you hated yourself for it.

“me and suguru always loved to share our toys. but you just want me all to yourself right? only me, hm? so why not just break up with him?” gojo’s fingers are on your clit but they roam, teasing your slit — almost inside but steadily running up and down, your breathing hitched and shook as you spoke. 

“why not break up with her?” you counter, grinding your hips to his palm. you hated how he always made you fight to get a touch from him.

“nah baby, tell me… humor me? make me understand or I’ll stop,” he looks in your eyes, stares deep into them until all you can see is blue surrounding you. “i won’t let you cum.” he’s doing the thing now to tempt you…sliding his fingers inside, curves them just well enough that you can taste your orgasm and pull away.

“he’s just …” your throat closes up but he slows his pace, he wants to know the truth… the rivalry he and Suguru had was always different, something twisted in his head; best friends but deeper and worse. it wasn't hatred and it wasn't that he even wanted to be him, but he wanted everything that suguru had and it was torture... evident that he was still a child at heart. a selfish needy child.

“he can’t make me cum, okay? especially…” you’re gasping. “especially like you do, satoru. he’s not as big and he just doesn’t feel right… i..--”

he’s shoving his face into your pussy, slick and saliva sliding down his face as he eats you out. throwing your leg over his shoulder for a better taste. “actually, i don’t think i can wait any longer, need to be inside you.”  his shirt's on the floor and he's smiling at you, sliding the head of his cock around your slit.

"so why me over her?" you ask, gasping when he settles inside of you and he hisses feeling your tightness around him.

“this fucking cunt is the reason, so fucking pretty and perfect.” he says, with you squeezing him tight he feels like he’s going to cum, his cock twitching and your juices sliding down his length, sinking himself lower and fucking inside of you hard. you’re swatting his chest, overwhelmed at him hitting a particularly gooey part inside of you. “c’mon baby, i know you can take it for me. you always do, come on.” pressing his hand against your stomach to feel himself inside of you, you both smile. “fucking stuffing you, aren’t i?”

he sped up his pace, dragging himself in and out of your pussy so slow that it almost hurt whenever he slipped out and it made you wrap your legs around his waist and to hold him close against your chest. he slips out, slides in and his cock strokes your inner walls at a dangerous pace, his hand on your hip. he moves to kiss your lips and  you turn your head, away from him.

“still won’t let me kiss you? that’s too far for you, hm? can’t be cheating if i haven’t kissed those pretty lips, is that what you think?” he’s laughing and it makes your chest hurt a bit at how mean he’s being. “those pretty lips suck my cock and you dirty those knees for me, but can’t kiss me… scared you’ll fall deeper?” his thrusts are harder and deeper, you’re gasping until he wraps a hand around your throat. 

he slaps your throbbing cunt, once and watches the clear waterfall of your squirt drip like a faucet with a smirk, tapping the head of his cock on your slap, fascinated at how more comes out. there’s a smile on his lips as he fucks more of it out of you, rolling his hips enough that it angled his cock to a new position, the tip nudging that spot again and fucking it ever so slightly. your moans breathy and loud, as if you didn’t care who heard which made me laugh at you. 

you’re dizzy and your body is humming, your mind so light that your thoughts are clouded with fantasies that won’t come true; him taking care of you and providing, not even just sex but more… your heart is thumping with excitement and awe, a droopy smile touches your lips. “do you really want me?” you sound far away and muffled, your tongue heavy. “or am I just another conquest for you, sa–toru..”

he sounds close, you can feel his body radiating heat against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue: “i never wanted anyone as badly as i want you, suguru has good taste, but i plan on making you mine.” he kisses the palm of your hand, peppering kisses up your arm until he’s at your shoulder, licking up your collarbone. his lips graze yours but he pulls away. “will you let me kiss you this once?”

“just this once.”

neither of you hear the bedroom door open, neither of you realize suguru is there, standing there and looking until he laughs. “here i was trying to be a good boyfriend and bring your favorite snacks since you've been sad all week and here’s satoru, who comes to see you before he even announces that he made it back from his trip and…” he laughs again, throwing the food on the floor. “and, you were only this sad because he was gone so why am i surprised that you’re fucking him?”

“sug–” you didn’t mean to, honestly… you regret not ending things but regardless if you did, getting with satoru after being with suguru would only raise the same questions. 

“no.” he’s leaving, moving fast trying to get out of the door. 

“please, suguru just listen.” it’s satoru who’s talking now and for a moment he does stop, turns around and he scoffs.

“he’ll break you, you know that? like he does with all the girls he’s been with.” he’s talking to you, looking over satoru’s shoulder and looking you in your eyes with a deep look of disgust and disappointment. then he’s looking at satoru, “you make me sick.” he’s huffing away, slamming the door when he leaves.

the permanent weight in your chest subsides and a rush of happiness comes for a split second, you even see satoru’s shoulders slump.

 until your roommate comes in.

no part two.

[incognit0slut]

Prove me wrong

When you tease Spencer about his inability to be dominant in bed, he decides to prove you wrong by taking matters into his own hands.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) afab reader, established relationship, dom spence but he’s still gentle, spanking, fingering, edging/orgasm control ~3.6k words A/n: Every time I write him as a dom I always make sure to write a backstory, like I can’t imagine him being hard on you out of nowhere. Do you get what I’m saying? Anyway this is the spanking fic I was talking about the other day. lmk what you think!!

The giggle left your lips before you could stop yourself. You really shouldn’t be laughing, especially when you were straddling his lap in the midst of a hot, passionate make-out session. But you couldn’t help it, it was as if you had no control over your amusement. Spencer, however, did not find the humor in the words that had slipped out of your mouth.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?”

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. What had started as a casual conversation—with stolen kisses here and there—quickly escalated into a playful banter about who was more in charge in the relationship. You had been teasing him, confidently asserting that you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship because you couldn’t imagine him being in control.

The conversation naturally shifted to a more personal challenge, touching on the topic of dominance, a subject neither of you had seriously discussed before. You had laughed then, not out of mockery, but because the idea seemed so out of character for him.

“I just think you’re more comfortable with control in other areas,” you said, trying to stifle your giggle. “But in bed? I can’t picture it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And what areas do you think I’m more comfortable with?”

“Well, teaching for one,” you replied, leaning closer. “I’ve sat in one of your seminars. You’re always so confident standing in front of a classroom.”

“So you think I’m good at teaching?” he replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But not at… other things?”

“Exactly,” you said, nodding. “I mean, you dominate the classroom with your knowledge. But that’s different from... you know, being dominant in bed.”

“Mhm.” His hands trailed up your legs before they settled on your waist. “Maybe those skills are more transferable than you think.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You can’t possibly compare giving a lecture in front of your students to... this.”

“Why not? Both require confidence, understanding your audience, and knowing how to lead.”

“Nice try, but I’m still not convinced,” you teased. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips barely brushing his, but he backed away, leaving you hanging. His eyes were serious, not amused by your skepticism. You laughed. It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with your perception of him.

“Baby, it’s okay. I don’t mind if this isn’t your strong suit.”

“Well I do.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Since when do you care about my opinion?”

“Since you’re my girlfriend,” he replied. “And I can’t let you think less of me.”

“I never think any less of you.”

“But you’re doubting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Oh, come on, stop making that face.”

Spencer's response was swift. His hands moved to gently cup your face, drawing your attention fully to him. “Tell me why you think I can’t be dominant in bed.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, you have this… air about you. It's hard to imagine you letting go.”

"Maybe I don't need to let go. Maybe I just need to take control in a different way," he said, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two."

"You? Teach me?" You raised an eyebrow, mock disbelief coloring your tone. "This I have to see."

“I think you should be careful what you wish for,” He said under his breath, his lips now just a whisper away from yours.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” you shot back, smiling against his lips. “I just don’t think you have it in you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you.

His lips moved against yours softly yet deeply, carrying the usual sweetness you'd grown accustomed to, but there was a subtle edge this time. It wasn’t too harsh, but just enough to catch you off guard and make you part your lips. He took the invitation, his tongue tracing a deliberate path inside your mouth as his hand trailed up to hold the back of your neck.

Hot. You felt hot everywhere. Certain spots on your body felt as if they were on fire, the burn traveling through your veins before pooling between your thighs. You couldn’t believe a simple kiss could make you feel this way. The heat was intense, making you ache with a need that you instinctively started to move your hips, seeking more. But then he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not allowed to move.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

"Because..." His fingers traced a path to the hem of his shirt that you wore, the one you claimed as your own. He slowly began to lift it, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “You need to earn it.”

You understood immediately what he was attempting. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you desperate. You realized it was some kind of power play, and this was his way to dominate you, to keep you on the edge. Each careful, controlled movement was a clear message to you. He was in charge, and you were left craving whatever he chose to give.

"Yeah?" You whispered, noticing the way your voice trembled with anticipation. "And how do I do that?"

He lifted the shirt higher, his hands sliding up your sides, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. “By letting me lead,�� he said. “Maybe I'll give you what you want then.”

The fabric slipped over your head, and you sat there, perched on his lap, momentarily vulnerable under his intense gaze. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as you felt his hands rest lightly on your bare shoulders, his fingers tracing small circles before they trailed lower, stopping just above your breasts.

“Will you do that? Will you do what I say?”

You swallowed hard. This was new. You never thought you’d see him asking your permission to be in control, yet here he was, doing the exact thing you were skeptical about. And to your surprise, you liked this side of him.

“Will you?” He urged.

You felt your breathing grow heavy as his hands moved lower. “…yes.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples. “I can’t hear you.”

You felt the sensation hit right through you, and it took a lot of self-control for you not to arch into his touch, to keep your voice steady as you repeated louder, “Yes.”

A satisfied smile played at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to press an open kiss on your neck. “I think I can get used to this.”

You tilted your head, exposing your neck to him. He wasted no time, licking and sucking on your pulse point, making sure to leave his mark. His hands continued their exploration, squeezing your breasts gently, feeling their full weight in his palms. When he tugged on your nipples, pulling them harder than he ever had before, a moan escaped your lips, surprising even yourself.

His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. "Sounds like someone's enjoying this more than they expected.”

Breathlessly, you replied, "You're... doing okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" His breath was hot on your already heated skin. "I'll have to try harder then."

His fingers traced a teasing path down to the hem of your panties, playing with the soft fabric, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Lift your hips.”

You complied, lifting your hips slightly, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the fabric and slowly began to pull it down. You shifted on his lap, letting him slip off your panties completely. He discarded it onto the floor, his hands returning to your thighs, gently massaging the plumpness of it as he fixed his gaze on you.

There was something about you that captivated him at that moment. The way you trembled, the way your breathing quickened, the way your pupils dilated. Spencer had always loved the pure desire reflected in your eyes whenever he touched you, but this was different. It was raw, unfiltered desperation, and he wanted to savor it, to draw it out and see just how far it could go.

“See? Already doing better than just okay.”

Your breath hitched as his palm ran up your inner thigh. “You’re not done proving yourself yet.”

“You know,” he started, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t really challenge me like this.”

“I’m not challenging you… you’re the one who started this.”

His fingers stopped just at the edge of the heat between your legs, teasingly close yet maddeningly far, but close enough to feel the dampness on your skin.

“No, you started this.” He moved his hand further, brushing against your outer lips. “You told me I wasn’t capable of being dominant.”

Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping your lips. “I—I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think I could take control?” His fingers grazed your slick pussy, slowly brushing your arousal between your folds. “Or didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting despite your attempts to keep your composure. 

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch. “Are you still not convinced?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers found your clit. You gasped, trying to form coherent thoughts. “I… I’m starting to see your point.”

“I need more than that,” he uttered, and to your disappointment, he pulled away. “Lay down on my lap.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He smiled. “You heard me. Lay down on my lap.”

Hesitantly, you shifted, positioning yourself across his lap, your heart pounding in your chest. “Spencer, I don’t—” you started, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Shh,” he cut you off, his hand softly patting your back. “Relax.”

He watched as you started to relax, the supple curve of your back arching slightly, highlighting the roundness of your ass as you settled into position. His hand rested lightly on your lower back while his other found your face, turning it towards him. His eyes met yours as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"Look at me," he whispered. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes steady on his soft brown orbs even though your heart was racing while his other hand trailed down the curve of your hips. Then, without warning, his hand lifted from your skin only to come down gently in a firm, open-handed spank on your ass that resounded through the quiet room.

"Spencer!" you exclaimed, a flush spreading across your cheeks.

His hand rubbed the area soothingly. “Have I convinced you enough?”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch both soothing and stimulating. “Maybe,” you replied breathlessly, your cheeks still flushed.

“Maybe?” He laughed. “Why do I feel like you’re doing this on purpose?”

You looked away, flustered, not wanting to admit the truth. “I’m not… I mean…” you stammered, your face heating up even more.

Seeing your reaction, he moved his hand between your thighs again, his fingers brushing against your slickness. “Interesting,” he hummed. “It seems you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch. “Spencer…”

“But you don’t deserve this yet,” he said, pulling his hand back teasingly. “Not until you’ve fully earned it.”

His hand suddenly came down on your ass again, the sharp sound echoing through the room. The burning sting made you gasp. 

“Count,” he instructed.

You could feel your eyes well up with unshed tears, the intensity of the slap overwhelming. You should feel ashamed and embarrassed by the situation, everything about this should send you into sheer mortification. Yet, there was also an undeniable pleasure threading through the pain, so intense that you could feel yourself getting aroused.

Another spank followed, slightly harder this time. “I told you to count.” “Two,” you gasped.

His hand came down again, firmer than before. “Start from the beginning.”

You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, trying to steady your voice. “One...”

“That’s better,” he murmured, his hand connecting with your skin, the sensation sharper than before.

“Two...”

His eyes stayed locked on you, gauging every reaction as he slapped you again.

“Three,” you cried out.

You continued to count, the numbers blending with your gasps and moans. By the time you reached seven, you were panting, the tears finally spilling over your face. His touch softened, his fingers gently caressing your reddened skin as he pressed his lips on your cheek, trying to kiss your tears away.

“Oh, baby, you know I hate to see you cry,” his voice was sweet, almost cooing, but the underlying taunt was unmistakable as his hand came down again sharply on your ass. You cried out, but he continued to trail soft kisses along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “But I need you to count again.”

“Eight,” you whined as you tried to catch your breath. Before you could fully process the last slap, you felt another sharp smack on your ass, making you cry out again. 

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered, the mix of sensations overwhelming you. His kisses were gentle, almost tender, but his hand was anything but soft.

“Just a little more, I promise,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and comforting. “What number was that?”

“Nine,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

“One more,” he whispered. “Just one last time. Can you be a good girl and count it out for me?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. He slowly lifted his hand again and paused in the air for a moment before letting it down in a firm, final spank.

“Ten!”

“Very good,” he praised softly, his voice warm and approving. He rubbed the stinging area gently as his lips found yours in a tender, reassuring kiss, his hand cradling your face gently.

“There, all done,” he said, pulling away. “Do you think you deserve your reward now?”

You nodded slightly, your body still humming from the intense sensations. “Please.”

His smile was soft when you met his gaze. “Alright,” he hummed. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through you as his fingers slipped between your legs again. The warmth of his fingers against your folds sent waves of pleasure through your body, and when he pressed gently against your clit, a gasp escaped your lips. You arched into his touch, every nerve ending tingling with the sensations he was creating. The pleasure built steadily, each stroke sending you higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Spencer,” you moaned, unable to hold back yourself as you arched your back, your hips grinding against his fingers, seeking more of the delicious friction.

“You’re so wet,” he sighed with a hint of surprise and satisfaction. “You like it when I go hard on you?” 

You could only nod in response, your mind barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he was working on you.

“Do you think you can take it if I go harder?” he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment, waiting for your response.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with desire. “I-I can take it.”

He answered you by slipping, not one, but two fingers into you without warning. The sound you let out was filthy, almost primal, a mix of a moan and a gasp that reverberated through the room. The unexpected intrusion drove you crazy, making it impossible to hold back your reactions as his fingers started to move inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that had your toes curling.

“God, you’re so tight,” Spencer sighed, his lips brushing against your ear. He could feel your walls clenching around him, contracting in response every time he thrust his fingers into you. It drove him wild. It consumed his mind. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way.

If you were wet before, you were absolutely drenched now. Your arousal stained his skin, and it amazed him how it didn't seem to stop. The liquid seemed to intensify, becoming the only noise in the room—a slick, wet sound that echoed softly as he started a faster pace, curling his fingers inside you.

You felt the pressure building, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your lower stomach. Every curl of his fingers, every stroke against that perfect spot inside you, sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m so close…”

He pulled your face closer to his, brushing his lips on your cheek. "Already?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, leaving a void that made you whimper in protest. But before you could voice your frustration, his hand came down sharply on your ass. The sudden slap made you wail, your jaw slacking open.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

You didn't know which surprised you more, his sudden withdrawal or the sharp sting of his slap. But both affected you like a storm suddenly breaking the calm, jolting your senses awake, heightening your senses.

With his hands still on you, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Have I proved you wrong yet?"

You could barely speak. Instead, you opted for a nod, hoping he’d understand your silent affirmation. But Spencer wanted more, he wanted to hear it. When your voice failed to form the words, his hand came down sharply again, a firm smack that made you gasp and arch your back.

"Not good enough," he said firmly. He then gripped your chin, turning your face to meet his gaze, forcing you to look directly into his eyes in this position. His hold was firm, his eyes intense. "Say it."

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words, but they came out as a soft whimper when you felt his fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt again. The stretch was even more delicious this time, intensifying the pleasure already floating in your veins, scattering your thoughts.

"Focus," he commanded, but how could you when he thrust his fingers into you at a mind-blowing speed? Each thrust seemed to demand an answer, it was as if he was using your own body against you, pushing you to the edge until the only thing you could think of was the control he had over you.

And it was working, because all you could focus on was him—his fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt, the intense gaze in his eyes, the warmth of his breath against your lips. Everything around you seemed to blur and only he remained clear.

"Say it," he urged again. "Say that you were wrong."

You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak, but his hard gaze and the relentless motion of his fingers forced the words from you. "I-I was... wrong."

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers never faltering. "I can't hear you, baby, need you to talk to me."

You moaned, your body trembling with the need for release. "I-I wanna cum."

"Hold it," he said firmly. His fingers didn't relent, maintaining that perfect rhythm, pushing you further, harder. "Say it louder."

You clenched around him, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. "I-I was wrong."

"I think you can do better than that."

You groaned. The pressure was too much and you fought to find your voice through the haze of pleasure. You could feel every ridge and curve of his fingers as they moved inside you, the friction building an unbearable heat that pooled low in your abdomen.

"I still can't hear you."

"I was wrong!" you cried out pathetically, your voice breaking with desperation. Your walls clamped around him, trying to draw him deeper as the slick, wet sounds of his movements filled your ears. You were drowning in the sensations, the tension inside you winding tighter and tighter. The world narrowed down to the feeling of his fingers inside you, the relentless pressure, the intense heat pooling in your core.

“Spencer, please,” your voice cracked, tears prickling down your cheeks again. You could taste the saltiness as you took a sharp intake of breath. "Please, please, please, please—"

"Now."

With that single word, the tension inside you snapped. A powerful surge of pleasure tore through you, starting at your core and radiating outward like a shockwave. Your vision blurred, and your entire body convulsed as the orgasm overwhelmed your senses. You cried out his name, and your muscles contracted around his fingers, squeezing tightly as the sensations spiraled out of control. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

Your skin felt electric. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode out the peak of your climax, hips bucked against his hand while his fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your orgasm, making it last longer than you thought possible. The intensity left you trembling, your body spent and your mind unable to process anything other than the overwhelming pleasure.

You finally collapsed against him moments later, your body limp and your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The intensity of your orgasm left you feeling both weightless and heavy as if all the strength had been drawn out of you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, your smaller frame draping effortlessly over his.

And this time, Spencer shouldn't be laughing, but he couldn't help himself. His chuckle was soft and warm, a sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into your body as you lay against him. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but you could sense his amusement.

"If I had any strength," you muttered, sinking into him. "I'd hit you so hard right now."

He laughed again, this time a bit louder. "Well, it's a good thing you're too worn out to try.”

"Don't get used to it," you warned, though there was no real threat in your tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But I do enjoy seeing you like this."

You nuzzled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion beginning to set in. Your eyelids grew heavy as you muttered, "Just don't forget who’s really in charge in this relationship."

"I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m—“ you stopped as a yawn suddenly hit you. “I’m… the dominant one here.”

"Sure, you are," he teased gently, stroking your hair as you settled comfortably against him, a smile playing on his lips.

“I… mean it.”

“Of course. You’re always in charge.”

You nodded sleepily. “And I’m… still going... to… hit you… later…”

He rested his head on top of yours, letting your body fully relax into his. “I look forward to it.”

With a final, contented sigh, you let yourself drift off on his lap, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful sleep.

[rynwritesreid]

I wanna know you, honey| Spencer Reid

A/N: I will be continuing mind games soon I promise, that’s all :)

Summary: Spencer’s wanted since the first time he had seen you, but he is was always to scared to admit his feelings.

Content: idiots in love basically. Smut. 18+. Fem reader. Fluff. Munch! Spencer. Creampie. No mentions of contraception. P in V. Semi dom spencer. Sub reader.

Masterlist| request are open| Navigation

Spencer knew you were so far off limits; it was almost humorous, but he couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t love you, because he knew he couldn’t love you, but he would give everything he could, including his sky-high IQ, for you two to be in love with each other.

 

Spencer wanted everything from you, he wanted to know what you tasted like, he wanted to know what you looked like first thing in the morning or just after a shower, and he wanted to know what did when you were alone.

 

He often found himself daydreaming about doing mundane, everyday things with you. But shamefully, he also thought what it would be like to have sex with you. He believed you would taste like honey, and if he ever did get a taste of you, he didn’t think he would be able to ever stop himself. He wanted to know how you sounded, what kinks or fantasies you had.

 

Spencer couldn’t shake the thought of you, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. “Spencer, you either need to tell how you feel, or get a grip man.” Derek stared at Spencer, with a mix of concern and amusement.

 

*

Spencer had neither told you about his feelings, nor got a grip. Instead, he found himself slipping deeper into his fantasies about you. The thought of your smile, your touch, consumed him day and night.

 

“Spencer, have you told her yet?” JJ interrupted his thoughts, her concern evident in her voice. Spencer shifted in his seat, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes of revealing his true emotions to you.

 

He had rehearsed the conversation a million times in his head, each scenario ending with a different reaction from you. The fear of rejection gripped him tightly, paralyzing him from taking that final leap of faith.

 

"I... I haven't found the right moment yet," Spencer stammered, avoiding JJ's piercing gaze. But deep down, he knew it wasn't about timing. It was about finding the courage to lay bare his vulnerable heart before you, risking it all for a chance at something more. And the fact that his boss, saw you as his daughter.

 

You weren’t biologically related to Hotch, but while you attended Georgetown University, you had become Jacks nanny. Hotch was the one who had pushed you to join the FBI and become a profiler. He had become overly protective off you, knowing the dangers of their line of work all too well.

 

“Is it really because you haven’t found the right moment yet, or is the fact that she is that close to Hotch scaring you off?” JJ watched Spencer carefully, knowing there was more to his hesitation than just timing.

 

*

All of Spencer’s thought now were consumed by you, he wanted you, he wanted you more than anything he has ever wanted before. “Hey, Spence. Are you okay? It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.” You whispered, there was a hint of sadness in your voice.

 

"Hey," Spencer replied softly, his heart racing at the sound of your voice. He couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes, afraid that you would see right through him. "I... I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

 

You moved closer, concern etched on your face. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You know you can always confide in me, right?"

 

Why did you have to be so friendly, and genuinely nice and caring. “It’s… its nothing. I know I can always talk to you don’t worry, but there isn’t anything to talk to you about right now.” Spencer swallowed hard, the words he longed to say caught in his throat.

 

“Okay. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”  Your voice was calming to him, it was something he wished he could listen to constantly. As you walked back to your desk, he noticed Emily and JJ glaring at him.

 

*

You don’t know what time it is, but you hear a light knocking at your door. Before you even start moving towards it, you hear Spencer’s voice, “Hey it’s me.”

 

Without hesitation, you opened the door to find Spencer standing there, his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

 

"Spencer, what are you doing here so late?" you asked, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at his unexpected visit.

 

He didn’t answer though, he just moved closer to you. His hand cupped your cheek, making you look directly at him. This is the first time you had seen Spencer this close, you could see how plump his lips, how his hair perfectly framed his face, and how his face looked like it had been created by a Greek god.

 

Before you knew it, and before you could ask him again what he was doing here, his lips were on yours.

 

Passionate and intense, his kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you. Spencer's lips were soft yet urgent against yours, as if he had been holding back this desire for far too long. You melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

 

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do that?” Spencer whispered against your lips, his breath warm and sweet. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection or hesitation. But all you could see reflected back at you was longing and raw emotion.

 

“How long?” is all you could manage to say. Spencer's answer came in the form of another searing kiss, his hands pulling you closer to him. As you melted into his embrace, you started to wonder if he had wanted this as long as you had. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy it was happening now.

 

As Spencer pulled away from the kiss, all you wanted to do was pull him back into it, you didn’t want the kiss to end. “Which way is your bedroom?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with desire. You raised your arm, and pointed out your bedroom door, and before you could say or do anything else, you felt Spencer pick you up and place you over his shoulder.

 

"Spencer! Put me down, I can walk!" you giggled, feeling a mix of excitement and shock at his actions.

 

"I know, but I don't want to take any chances. Besides, I like carrying you around." he replied with a playful smirk.

 

You had never really thought Spencer would be strong enough to carry you like this. Derek and Hotch certainly looked like they could, but not Spencer. Spencer carried you to your bedroom with ease, though.

 

As he gently set you down on the bed, a rush of anticipation filled the room. His eyes met yours, a mix of adoration and desire swirling in their depths. “Do you want to know what else I’ve wanted to do to you?” Spencer whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. Without waiting for a response, his lips captured yours again in a fervent kiss that left you breathless.

 

His hands wondered your body till he found the hem of your pj shorts. “Is it okay if I take these off?” Spencer asked, his eyes searching for your permission. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as you gave him the go-ahead.

 

He slowly pulled down your shorts, revealing your soft skin beneath. Spencer trailed his fingers along your thighs, something he had dreamed off so many times. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin as his touch sent shivers down your spine. He palmed your breasts through your t-shirt, sparking waves of pleasure that left you gasping for air. His lips found your neck, trailing soft kisses that sent desire coursing through your veins.

 

His hands pulled your t-shirt off you, revealing your bare skin. He paused for a moment, taking you in with a mix of admiration and hunger. His lips moved from your necks and down towards your breasts, kissing each one gently. You arched into him, feeling his tongue traces the outline of your nipple, making you moan softly.

His lips then moved on to your stomach, and finally they found their way to your clit.

 

His touch was expertly gentle, yet firm, and you could feel his intense focus on you. You let out a string of moans, your body tense with the desire he was unleashing within you. You could feel your arousal building, the intensity of his fingers and lips working their magic on you.

 

You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing second. It hit you like a tidal wave, waves of pleasure washing over you, your body tensing and then relaxing with each powerful contraction. You cried out, your voice ringing out loud and clear through the room.

 

You tasted as sweet as he thought you would, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel you around him, he wanted to hear you begging for him. As he drew his fingers out from your damp centre, a satisfied smile graced his lips, he knew he had made a profound impact on you.

 

Without missing a beat, he rose above you, his eyes scorching into yours, and positioned himself at your entrance. You looked up at him, fear and anticipation dancing in your eyes. He glanced down at your face, reading your emotions, and caressed your cheek.

 

“Don't worry,” he whispered, aiming to quell those fears gleaming in your gaze. “I'll be gentle, and I'll take care of you.”

 

You felt his warm, hard length nudging against your entrance, and your breathing hitched. He gently pushed himself inside you, and you felt like he was filling you in a way no one else ever could. Your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and pleasure.

 

Slowly, he began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each movement. The sensation was indescribable, like fire and ice coursing through your veins.

 

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer as the pleasure built within you. “Harder, please.” You begged; your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

Spencer, not one to deny you anything, increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the raw passion and need reflected back at you.

It wasn't long before the tension within you reached its peak, and you cried out as you collapsed over the edge. Spencer's thrusts grew more intense, and before you knew it, he too was surrendering to the pleasure, the satisfaction of giving you what you've always needed.

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