#the way he is gazing down at her?? and THE AUDACITY OF THAT MAN TO CHEW FUCKING GUM WHILE DOING SOO??!!

[copias-juicebox]

the AUDACITY OF TAMBOURINE FLIPFLOP!

[livwritesstuff]

“Steve,” Eddie mutters, “Stop it, you’re staring.”

Steve is staring, eyes fixed on a family sitting in a cluster of seats two rows ahead of them on the commuter rail — a mom and dad with three kids, the oldest no older than ten, the youngest four or five. They’re not too much older than Steve and Eddie’s own kids (who are seven, five, and two), and by the looks of the princess dresses and mouse ears and branded souvenir bags they’re also on their way home from the afternoon Disney on Ice show at the TD Garden.

“That mom,” Steve says, addressing Eddie even though his gaze doesn’t shift away from the unsuspecting targets of his relentless judginess, “is upset because her kids are whining and misbehaving, but they asked for food and she said no, and they said they were bored and she ignored them.”

In Steve’s defense (not that Eddie would actually say any of this to him; he doesn’t need the egging on), his assessment isn’t exactly incorrect. All three of those kids are either colossally melting down or just on the verge of doing so, and both of their parents are mostly ignoring them.

“God, and they’re gonna grow up learning they can’t rely on their parents for help,” Steve continues, “I just...I just don’t get why we had to go through all those evals and interviews and home visits and shit before we were deemed suitable parents when any idiot straight couple can just have a kid with no regulation whatsoever.”

“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he glances at their own daughters to make sure they aren’t eavesdropping (they’re not – Moe and Robbie are sitting by the window and playing with the toys they’d gotten to pick out during intermission, and Hazel is halfway to asleep in Steve’s lap), “My love — little pitchers.”

Steve only shrugs, but he does drop the subject for the rest of the train ride.

The universe must hate Eddie (or love Steve) because that family gets off at the same station as them. Hazel is completely sacked out by then, and Steve had taken her while Eddie manned the older two and they’re busy running ahead of him to the car so there’s literally nothing he can do when Steve detours away from them to follow a few yards behind the other family.

When he finally makes his way back over to them, it’s with a gleeful grin on his face.

“I knew it.” Steve says with a gleeful grin, “I knew they had to be shitty parents.”

Eddie eyebrows flew up, because – seriously, the fucking audacity on this guy.

“You know what I always say – you can either be a good parent or have a clean car, and that car was fucking spotless.”

“Steve Harrington.”

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

[marvelslittlewhore]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were boiling with jealousy. You just wanted to have fun drinking and smoking with your friends and boyfriend and everything had been fine until you got a glance of some kook bitch flirting with JJ, batting her lashes at him stupidly and you already had your fist clenching by your side. Your grip tightening on the red solo cup, chugging down the rest.

Kie, Sarah, and Cleo followed your gaze and all knew it won't take long until you snap. You trusted JJ, it's just that you can't stand the fact that many girls or past flings on the island still tried making their shot even though they knew he's not on the market anymore.

You could see the annoyance on JJ's face but he was still being nice about it, which you cherish him for but also wished he would just walk away from her and leave her there dumbfounded.

You were really trying to keep your cool but then she had the audacity to touch his arm. That was it. Throwing the cup on the ground and ignoring Kie's scolding you marched over to where the boys were standing.

Pushing the girl's hand off JJ not so gently you stood between the two, your arms crossed over your chest while JJ wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Stay the fuck away from my man and go look for some kook dick instead of using pogues just so you can feel some type of power." You glared at her.

"Oh really? And that's coming from someone whose mom had practically slept with the whole island. I don't doubt you're any better-" Your fist made contact with her face before she could finish her insult, and you watched her fall onto the sand.

The boys shouted in surprise and you didn't let it end there, getting on top of her and grabbing her by her shirt with one hand.

"You ever take my family in your mouth again imma make sure you won't leave the hospital for a while, got that?" You whispered to her before feeling JJ wrap his arms around your middle to hoist you up and off her.

"Easy now, mama. Think she heard you loud and clear. C'mon, let's go." JJ carried you away while you kept cussing at the girl, making sure that the others on the bonfire see what happens when they mess with you.

After your little altercation, everyone decided it was better to call it a night and make your way back to the Chateau.

JJ went to hold your hand but quickly let go when you hissed in pain, instead he grabbed your wrist holding it up to look at your bruised knuckles. He smirked, kissing each of your knuckles gently.

"All that trouble for me, huh?" He teased and you rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

"Shut up. You would have done the same if any guy had approached me."

"True." He chuckled and when you tried to get out of his hold he stopped walking, pulling you against his chest. "I gotta admit, what you did there was pretty hot."

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss while his hands went to squeeze your ass. Your little make out session got interrupted by John B clapping his hands to get your guys attention.

"C'mon, you lovebirds. You can mingle later, there are people who have a busy day ahead."

"Oh and you are one of them?" You raised an eyebrow at the brunette.

"Yeah, someone has to take care of your hangover asses tomorrow and that's probably me as I'm the most sober one here." He flicked your forehead and you slapped his hand away laughing.

"Better be careful bro or you'll be her next victim." JJ warned with a smirk placing his arm over your shoulders, kissing the side of your head.

"I think I broke her nose-"

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Requested by: @tracymbcm (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this 😭 hope you still like it the way it came out)

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

For JJ Maybank:

@tracymbcm @spideysimpossiblegirl @chiaraanatra

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[natalievoncatte]

“What I did wasn’t personal,” Lena said.

Supergirl had already turned to face her. There were words formed on her lips, but Alex struck first, bringing her viper wit where it wasn’t needed or welcome.

“You had a stash of ‘Kills Kryptonians’. It’s personal,” said Alex.

Lena ignored her, looking directly at Supergirl.

“You know I’d never use it that way.”

“You kept secrets,” said Supergirl. “Secrets change things. I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh really,” Lena spat, knowing she’d regret what came next. “You don’t like secrets. Okay. What’s your real name?”

Alex flinched. Supergirl stared her down. Even in this miserable place, she was inhumanly beautiful, even if Lena was a little resentful that she’d been bitching about walking fifty yards a few moments ago, and making light of exercise, when she had the audacity to look like that.

The pause grew heavy. Something seemed to turn behind Supergirl’s eyes, like she was working something out. Her expression softened lightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me about Sam? I thought we trusted each other.”

“How can I trust you?” Lena said. “You still hold me at arm’s length, won’t let me in, only look for my help when it’s convenient for you. Maybe I should have sought your help, but it isn’t like I have you on speed dial, is it? What was I supposed to do, toss myself off a balcony and hope you were having coffee with Kara Danvers again?”

Supergirl flinched. Looking at Lena intently, she stepped closer, and Alex grew visibly nervous.

“Supergirl…” she said.

“You want to know my real name?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her voice suddenly unsteady, her palms breaking out in a sweat despite the cool, stale air. She stood her ground before a being that could level a mountain with a look and held her gaze.

“Kryptonian names are patronymics, sort of. A man’s name is his own and that of his family. So, for example, my cousin’s name is Kal-El. His father was Jor-El.”

“I knew that already,” said Lena. “Your cousin shared that an interview with Lois Lane.”

“He can share his because he has a name that was given to him by his adoptive family,” said Supergirl, her voice softening as she took another step closer. “I still use my Kryptonian first name.”

Something about that itched at Lena’s brain, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Supergirl,” Alex hissed. “You can’t… we can’t…”

Supergirl threw her a glance. “What? Trust her?” She looked at Lena. “My father was Joe-El’s brother, Zor-El. My mother’s name was Alura In-Ze.”

Lena licked her lips.

“They gave me the name Kara,” said Kara Zor-El. “On Earth, I accepted the surname of the family that took me in to raise me when my cousin gave me up to them. My full name is Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

Lena stumbled a step back, her mouth falling open comically. It felt like the ground was bursting open and swallowing her up, her stomach dropping through her knees.

No. No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked away from her.”

“Look at me.”

Lena looked.

Lena saw.

Her hair was down, but Lena knew those honeyed curls. Supergirl carried herself differently- her shoulders were proud where Kara tended to hunch down, make herself small, as if to pass through the world without touching it.

Lena hadn’t really looked before. Not like this. She’d studied Kara, maybe even mooned over Kara a little until she seemed to confirm she was straight by dating that alien jackass. She knew every part of her face from her soft lips to her feel blue eyes to that funny little scar right over her eye.

How had she not seen?

“Fucking hell, Kara!” Alex snapped.

Lena’s lip trembled. She clenched her fists to keep her hands steady, knowing they were shaking.

“You tricked me,” Lena hissed, “so many times, so many ways, running off and changing into that suit when I thought you were both people. The super-speed, right?”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara, her voice soft. “Let’s just…”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Lena. “You… you told me you were having coffee with Kara, but you are Kara. Kara… you caught me when they threw me off the balcony. You risked being killed by a kryptonite explosion when Metallo went critical. You… you were… Jesus Christ, the plane, the chemicals, that was you?”

Kara’s eyes grew wider with every syllable and even in the gloom, Lena could swear she saw tears welling up within them.

“She’s risked her life for you over and over and over,” Alex said, quietly. “Her faith in you has only wavered the once. She’s always defended you and insisted on your innocence even when I was ready to throw you in a cell,” said Alex. “She defended you from the first. Shit, she defended you from Superman.”

Lena looked from one to the other, staring at them both in turn, trying to keep her wobbly legs from completely collapsing under her.

“I owe you an apology,” said Kara, raising her gaze to meet Lena’s.

“Can you two do this later?” said Alex. “We’re on a mission, here.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Let’s go find Sam.”

They did find Sam, eventually, but the plan went sideways. After they were thrust back into their bodies, Supergirl -Kara- curtly told her to help Brainy while she and Alex rushed off.

So Lena helped brainy, until it was time for her to leave. Eventually, she made her way back to her penthouse, and to a glass of single malt, neat. She savored its subtleties as she stared out at the stars.

She knew this would happen sooner or later, so she wasn’t surprised when Kara touched down on the balcony, looking utterly stunning and brave and dashing in her fancy suit. She motioned to knock at the glass.

“It’s not locked.”

“Hi,” said Kara, stepping inside.

Lena looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t see. You’re just… you, in a different outfit.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Lena knew. As she walked into Lena’s living room, Kara had neither the mousy, retiring way of Kara Danvers nor the brash swagger of Supergirl. It was like she was seeing a third person, one who’d been fully revealed for the first time.

“I’ve been going back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what parts of our friendship were real.”

“All of it,” Kara said.

“If my brother were here, he’d say that you befriended me to spy on me and use my resources and genius for your own ends.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena took a sip, and breathed in through her parted lips after swallowing to savor it.

“I know. He said the same thing about Jack, actually. Lex always tries to convince me that anyone else in my life is just after my name or money or body.”

Kara said nothing. Lena looked up.

“Just because he’s a madman who wants to gaslight me into being a supervillain doesn’t mean he’s always wrong. Does it?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been very insistent on being my friend,” said Lena. “You practically barged into my life and broke down all my barriers with your earnest kindness, but you were keeping yourself behind another one.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I knew in my heart that you were nothing like him,” said Kara. “I remember every detail.”

“In my office, with Kent.”

“No. In the helicopter. That was the first time I saw you.”

Lena swirled the dregs in her glass. “Oh. Right.”

“I just had to know you. You were compelling, and the way you treated me in your office that day was a huge part of that. You seemed so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just knew I had to be close to you.”

A fit of pique moved her arm before she could contain herself, and Lena threw the glass. Kara snatched it from the air and placed it on the table without spilling a drop.

She was closer now, standing within arm’s reach.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” Lena almost hissed, her voice loosened by the whiskey and the one before and the one before that.

“Why?” said Kara.

Lena looked up, swaying slightly.

“You told me your name.”

“I should have sooner. We could have worked together. We could have done a lot of things.”

“Fuck,” Lena snapped. “You’re doing it again! Knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You goddamn well what,” said Lena. “Or maybe you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara. “I just don’t understand. Can you… do you want to tell me what you mean?”

“I… sit down.”

Kara swept her cape aside and sat primly in a side chair, folding her hands in her lap, worrying at the back of her thumb with her other thumb. God, she even had Kara’s mannerisms.”

“I’m gay,” said Lena.

Kara swallowed. “But… you were with Jack… and James… and you really seem to like the letter J,” Kara said, lamely.

“It’s called bisexuality, Kara. It’s a thing.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really get ‘sexualities.’ On Krypton, we didn’t have sexual preferences. We didn’t choose our partners at all, everything was arranged.”

“That sounds awful,” said Lena.

Kara looked away. “It was our way and it worked. We had stable families, and most people had a kind of love. My parents loved each other.”

Lena sighed. “I wish I could say that. One of my parents didn’t love anyone but himself. Your sister is gay, Kara. How can you not understand it?”

“I understand that. I just find the whole thing confusing, and overwhelming. I keep looking for this spark that everyone talks about, and these ‘gut feelings’, but every time I think I’ve had it, it wasn’t right.”

“It seemed right with Mon-El. Oh. Oh Jesus. You banished your own boyfriend from Earth.”

Kara shook her head. “I know it did. I thought it did. I just never… it was the idea of him. I was checking a box. I was with him to have a boyfriend, not to have him. We’re really different people.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” said Lena.

Kara suddenly looked nervous, and thus even more like herself.

“I don’t know. It just seems to have happened. Kind of like our whole friendship. I never made a plan to be your friend. I never had an agenda. I just needed you in my life without knowing why. You just bring me joy.”

Lena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream.

You big indestructible goof, that is the spark!

“I should have told you about me after Medusa. I should have trusted you then, but Alex talked me out of it. I didn’t push past when it counted. I know you doubt how much you mean to me now, and I’m so sorry I did that.”

“I’d never hurt you, ever,” said Lena. “Even if you weren’t Kara. But I could never hurt her. You.”

“I know.

“For what it’s worth,” said Lena. “I felt it too. That pull, that need to know you. That’s why I allowed you to get close to me instead of being bundled off by my security. I felt it from the first, that day you came to my office. I might have felt it a little during the helicopter crash, too.”

Kara nodded.

“I feel like there’s something we’re both not saying.”

Lena licked her lips.

“I have to stop the worldkillers. I have to save Sam. I have to fix it all. I just needed to talk to you first. See you first, see you again, just the two of us.”

Lena nodded, swallowing.

“I guess I should go.”

Lena wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to spend the night, change out of that ridiculous suit, to just be Kara and stay with her, but it dawned on her now that it could never be quite like that again. Kara was Supergirl and Supergirl had to be shared with the world.

“I want to help. I’ll come to the DEO.”

“Okay,” said Kara. “I’ll see you there.”

She stood up and walked to the balcony, pausing before she opened the door. She didn’t turn when she spoke, as if she was afraid to face Lena, to face the answer.

“Do you think, when this is over, we can try it again? Try to fix it?”

“Is that something you want?” Said Lena.

“That pull is still there.”

“I know,” said Lena. “I feel it too.”

Kara’s shoulders rose and fell, as if she’d just rolled a great burden from her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the DEO. Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She slid the balcony door open and stepped out, pausing for just the briefest second before lifting off, sending a gentle gust of chilly night air rolling into Lena’s penthouse.

Lena let the breeze flow in for a while before she stood up and went to the door, meaning to close it. Instead, she stepped outside, leaning on the railing as the chill raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“I feel it, too.”

[myfictionaldreams]

You Belong To Me // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, smut/angst/fluff, Dom/Sub, role reversal, possessive sex, jealousy, threats of violence, size difference, car sex, rough sex, riding, multiple orgasms, cum shots, creampies, breeding kink (kinda), handjobs, oral (m and f receiving), body worship, praise kink, marking, begging

Words: 8.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“A strong woman may remain silent when people talk behind her back. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t notice. It simply means she chooses not to waste her energy on foolishness. She has more important things to do”. ~ A quote by someone much stronger than you that was for damn sure.

Anger was an emotion that you didn’t experience often and why would you? You were in a happy and safe relationship with two of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, the biggest inconvenience in your life was whether you had pasta or potato for dinner.

Today however, you felt an unstoppable rage that curled in the pit of your stomach, your blood pumping violently through your veins as it felt like you hadn’t blinked in over 10 minutes, jaw now aching from how hard you were clenching it.

“You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off, Boss Lady. Do I need to be worried?” Sam Wilson asks as he leans against the bar next to the stool you were currently sitting on.

You didn’t rush to reply to your bodyguard, instead lifting the glass you held firmly in your grip to your lips, sipping the alcohol that was strong enough that it burned as it passed down your throat and into the infernal rage in your stomach. Your nostrils flared as you rested your glass back into your lap, trying to take a deep breath as you watched the scene in front of you.

There were two of them. Two women that knew that Steve and Bucky were both your partners, in fact, you’d been introduced to them as Mrs Rogers-Barnes as per Steve’s request, even though you weren’t married, it was just his way of showing who you belonged to. Especially as you were in public and there was nothing more public than the party you were all attending as guests for Steve’s good friend and ally Thor.

The blonde, long-haired giant was very much a lady's man and seemed to have invited half of the female population of Brooklyn. Not that this was an issue, it was actually nice to spend some time with women as you spent so much time around dangerous men and you also felt confident with Steve and Bucky around women, they never even glanced away from you, EVER.

So this was why you had left with Sam to go and get another drink, already enjoying the alcoholic buzz in your veins and wishing for it to continue, however, this gave the perfect opportunity for these two women to flock to your boys.

It had been funny at first, seeing them being completely ignored by your two hulking boyfriends, their back turning as soon as the two girls approached. But this didn’t seem to affect their confidence, persistence and audacity to then lay hands against Bucky’s arm and Steve’s back. This was where you had reached your limit and then when they physically pushed between your boyfriends so they had to look at the girls, well now you were seeing red.

Steve and Bucky were YOURS. Even though you could see them continue to try and move away, how dare these girls, - who knew that the boys were taken - continued to flirt and talk and touch what was yours and just how far they would actually go to get the boy's attention, you didn’t want to find out.

Finishing your drink in a single swig, you placed your glass back onto the bar, slightly surprised that it didn’t smash with the force in which you placed it, before sliding down from the stool. However, a firm hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting your movements as you turned your violent gaze away from the girls and up to Sam.

“What?!”, you asked, voice dripping with poison and promises of fury. Sam’s eyes widen slightly having never heard this tone from you before and you instantly felt remorseful, muscles in your shoulders relaxing slightly, “sorry”, you apologised for your tone.

“I know you’ve got some evil mastermind plan to go over there and whack them one, but don’t do anything out of anger. I’m more than happy to shoot my way out of a situation for you but we’re in a room half filled with gang members that won’t hesitate to shoot if there’s suddenly a fight”.

You released a heavy sigh knowing he was right as you glanced back at the girls, seeing them laughing obnoxiously whilst trying to push their bodies closer to your boys who still continued to try and step away. “Fuck, I want to punch them so badly”, you huffed under your breath.

Sam chuckled deeply, having never seen you this angry before, usually in these sorts of situations you’d be completely overwhelmed, anxious and upset. Clearly, the alcohol was acting as a liquid courage, your anxieties were pushed to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, Sam continued, feeling uncomfortable with the way the girls were acting, noticing the way Natasha was now trying to move them away as she was the boy’s bodyguard. “I’m sure that Boss and Bucky would love nothing more than to see you be their knight in shining armour but I’m just saying - be careful for me… please? Make my life a little easier”, he joked, not letting go of your arm as he tried to catch your eye.

The corner of your lip quipped up slightly, looking up at him, his kind eyes meeting yours, “And what do you suppose I do? Let them continue to touch MY boyfriends? They’re mine!”

You’d never been this verbally possessive, never having been in this mindset before.

“You can do whatever you want Sweetheart and I’ll be there to back you up, no matter what, I’m just saying to take a breathe and think about what you’re doing”.

Sam was right, he always was so you took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth and straightened your spine. Sam seemed to believe that you’d calmed enough as he released the grip on your arm.

“You good?” he asked, resting his hands on your shoulders, giving you a little shake.

“Yeah, I’m good”, you responded.

Turning on the spot, you looked back towards Steve and Bucky who were now looking at you with a quizzical expression, eyes brightening as you finally approached where they were. However you didn’t stop directly next to them, no, you strutted straight for the girls who were a few feet away now thanks to Natasha’s perseverance but they still looked over towards your boyfriends.

You hoped you looked as deadly as you felt, a sly smirk on your lips, shoulders rolled back as you stopped in front of the two girls who were taller than you but this didn’t knock your confidence, as you spoke loud enough that your voice cut through the music, keeping it in a sickly sweet tone. “I see the way you’re looking at them”, you pointed your head in the direction of Steve and Bucky who were watching the exchange intently, Natasha to their left with a proud smirk plastered to her beautiful face and you could feel Sam close behind you still.

The girls looked up and down your body, their eyes full of judgement and disdain, one of them sucked on their teeth, tilting her head to the side, “And who are you supposed to be?”

You looked her directly into her soulless eyes, “Oh you know exactly who I’m supposed to be”. This confidence was something you’d never experienced before, gone was the timid, highly anxious girl, when it came to your boyfriends, no one would get in the way of your protection even if they didn’t necessarily need it. To be disrespected in front of you with the lack of shits given by the two girls, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

One of the girls, who sucked her teeth stepped forward so you were only a foot away from each other, “and why the fuck would we give a shit about that?”

You didn’t back down, stepping close enough that you could smell her rancid cheap perfume, the tips of her shoes grazing yours, “Because then you’d know that they are taken. Do you both understand what the means? Get. Fucking. Lost. They are mine”.

The girls both choked on a laugh, “You don’t fucking own them, maybe they want a taste of us, I can guarantee they’d be begging for more”.

Now it was your turn to laugh at the sheer audacity of these girls. It wasn’t a dainty laugh either, no, it was one that you had to hold your belly because of the ache, drawing other people’s attention from around you. Trying to take a deep breath to gather yourself, wiping away at the corner of your eye to the tears that had gathered there, you could see that your laughing had hit a nerve as both of their girls’ jaws were tensed.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t the part about ownership that had you laughing, in fact, Steve and Bucky had made it more than clear that you had their whole heart but it was the part about begging for more. All it would take was a single look and you knew your boyfriends would be begging for more, to touch your body, to kiss your lips, to hear your moans, these girl's naivety was truly baffling.

Returned to look them both in the eyes, your orbs flicking from one face to another as you returned to your natural calm, words spoken lowly with every ounce of promise that you could muster. “If you touch or even look at either of them again, I’ll break your fucking hands. You don’t know what the fuck I’m capable of”.

Turning on the spot, officially finished with the conversation, not allowing the fear of actually threatening someone to take over and thankfully the girls didn’t shout anything back. This was a small blessing because you were one more word away from upsetting Sam and punching the one closest straight in the throat.

The two bodyguards and more important, Steve and Bucky were watching with expressions you hadn’t really witnessed before. Nat and Sam looked almost proud of you with gleaming eyes and smirks across their faces. Whereas your boyfriends, well from the obvious tents in their suit trousers, there was lust as you’d never seen before, mouths gaped open as you approached them all.

“We’re leaving”, you stated matter of factly.

“Why?”, Bucky asked, his voice soft and he looked almost like he was in a trance.

Catching his eye as you replied, “Because if they look at you like that again, I’m going to fucking kill them both”.

Not waiting for anyone’s reaction, having made the decision for them already, you reached to grab your boyfriend's hands, pulling them with ease as they stayed by your side as you all made towards the exit.

Natasha was by your side in a second to open up the doors for you all, she glanced in your direction, whistling lowly, “I like this side of you, Sugar”.

A heated flush encompassed your body at the compliment but it didn’t falter your steps as Sam now too rushed in front as you all arrived at the large SUV. Sam held open the car door for you as Natasha climbed into the driver's seat, Steve and Bucky following in close behind you and then finally Sam was in the passenger seat.

As soon as you were in the car, you were taking off your heels, needing some freedom from them. Your body was still trembling with anger and adrenaline, not even thinking of normal thoughts as you felt Steve’s warm body slide next to yours into the middle seat, followed by Bucky.

The car was only just starting when you were climbing into Steve’s lap, already having decided this when you had approached those girls, they were your boys, you needed to feel them.

“Baby”, Steve began hands on your body to help as you straddle his lap in the limited room, your leg awkwardly slotting between his thigh and Bucky’s. Any words he was planning on saying were cut off as your face smashed into his, lips moving against his in a bruising manner, almost violently.

Steve kissed you back with just as much passion, one of his vast hands cupping the back of your head and the other hand resting on your hip, helping as you ground your hips against his, the material of your thin dress riding up over your thighs with the movements. The mafia leader groaned deeply into the kiss, especially as your warm, wet tongue slipped into his mouth as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss further.

But you weren’t waiting another minute, pulling back, hand blindly reaching out to Bucky, feeling his rough facial hair beneath your fingertips and pulling him closer just for him to meet your lips as you moved your attention to him.

The car began moving but you didn’t care, or the fact that Natasha and Sam were in the car, they’d already seen the three of you fucking plenty of times before.

As Bucky’s tongue brushed against your lips, you opened yours just as eagerly as you had with Steve, groaning at the taste of him. Your hips continued to rock against Steve, who had moved his sinful mouth to your neck, his teeth nipping along the sensitive skin.

In all honesty, you were not thinking clearly, it was almost like the little devil on your shoulder had taken over your body. All that kept spiralling through your thoughts were those stupid girls’ faces as they looked at your boyfriends. THEY WERE YOURS. You needed to feel them, taste them, hear them, everything you possibly could just to soothe your inner demon, and insecurities, wanting to prove that they only wanted you.

However, as the car continued to move, Steve tried to regain some stability to the moment, his mouth removing from your jaw, “Honey, you need to put your seat belt on”.

Now it was your turn to remove yourself from your boyfriend, lips tingling as you also sucked in air greedily, looking at Steve and not missing a beat as you demanded, “Take out your cock”.

Steve also matched your speed, eyes flicking to the front of the car, “Nat, find somewhere to park right now”. Then his hands were pulling your face back to his, nose squishing against his cheek as he wrapped his two muscular arms around your body, trapping you in almost like you were his seatbelt.

Your own hand was still holding onto the side of Bucky’s head, the brunette was kissing your palm, the sensation tickling your skin and then his lips were wrapping around your thumb and sucking it into his mouth in a highly erotic move that sent heat straight to your cunt.

Pulling back from Steve momentarily and looking at Bucky, admiring the view and the way in which his usually bright blue eyes were almost black in colour with his blown-out pupils. “I want your cock out too”, you requested to Bucky.

“Yes ma’am”, he replied after releasing your thumb, swiftly undoing his belt and zipper, his hips lifting so his suit trousers and boxers could be pushed to his midthigh. His flesh hand automatically wrapped around his length moving steadily up and down to try and ease some of the tension that he was experiencing ever since he saw you stand up to his girls.

Thankfully the car pulled to a stop, Natasha and Sam didn’t waste any time before getting out of the car and you didn’t even check out of the window where they’d stop, only really realising that they’d found somewhere because Steve’s secure arms loosened around you.

This gave him the opportunity to reach for his own zipper but you needed to feel someone now and Bucky was already sitting there looking pretty and ready.

“Too slow”, you teased Steve with a huskier voice than usual as you began to climb over him to straddle Bucky’s lap, lifting your dress further around your hips, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull your underwear to the side and sinking down onto Bucky’s cock.

“Holy fucking shit”, Bucky gasped at your abrasiveness, having never seen you like this before, your pussy walls fluttering as you had to stretch and adjust to his size quickly. Luckily you were already drenched with arousal and need that helped you to slip down his length.

Bucky’s nibble fingers reached for your underwear, easily tearing the material into two and removing it from your person and discarding somewhere in the SUV. With your hands clutching the nape of his neck, fingers teasing the shaved hair as he massaged your hips, both sucking in a deep breath before you seemed to snap out of any restraint you’d been holding back.

As your mouth once again frantically found him, you began to ride him, hard and fast like it was a race to the finish line. The noises he was producing only encouraged your fucking, the vibrations from his moans, seeping into your chest from where it rubbed against his. You were both breathless but didn’t stop the kiss, almost like you were trying to prove a point, which in a way you were, just how far you could go to pleasure him.

The car was shaking with your momentum as you chased Bucky’s high, not your own, you didn’t care about cumming right now, you just wanted Bucky to feel good, needed to see him orgasm.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of air, you finally pulled away, lips swollen slightly and shiny from the shared saliva, the atmosphere warm from being in a contained space, the sweat-coating body of your bodies. Your mouth wasn’t finished with its pleasuring though as you tilted his head back and hungrily kissed and nipped his neck, harder than usual, making sure to leave teeth indents and purple spots.

You were never one to mark up the boys, they always needed to remain professional looking and you did feel slightly like a loved-up teenager frantically fucking in the car but it was just one more way that you could show that he was yours.

“Tell me you’re mine”, you demanded, and his first response was to moan in such a way it was almost pornographic.

“I’m yours”, Bucky responded gruffly, hands squeezing your hips harder. It was your turn to moan, purposefully clenching your cunt around his cock tighter. “Fuck!” Bucky cursed into your ear, his grip now painful and sure to leave bruises beneath the skin but you didn’t care, it was motivating you more. “If you keep this up Doll, I’m gonna cum before we even get home”, he admitted, eyes closed in concentration.

This was like music to your ears, as you pulled back, leaning your forehead against his, your hips still frantically moving up and down. “Good, I want you to cum, right now! Please Bucky”, your voice was pleading to him as once again you squeezed your cunt around him, almost suffocating his length.

“Ah mama- fuck”, Bucky was almost delirious, unable to form a full sentence with how good he felt at that moment. Not only did he get to see you looking fucking sexy as hell standing up to those girls at the party but now you were riding his cock like a woman on a mission.

Your mind was still only on the end goal of him cumming, needing to see the pleasure in his face which was hard with the blurred motion of you riding him but as his mouth gaped open as he released a recognisable little noise that he always did just before he came, you slide of his cock and sat back on his thighs.

Both of your hands quickly wrapped around his soaked, throbbing cock, squeezing tightly and moving up and down at the same speedy space, paying particular attention to his tip, thumb stroking over the underside that was most sensitive.

Bucky looked almost feral, his entire body leaving the seat, lifting your body with it as he shouted, “FUCK! Just…right there! That feels so good!” With the momentum of both of your bodies, as he began cumming, the spurts of white globs shot up both of your bodies, coating his shirt and your dress and you didn’t stop, not until his cock finally stopped throbbing in your hands.

You were both breathing hard, particularly Bucky who looked shocked to the core, his hands releasing their grip on your hips to massage the tender area.

“I’ve never cum that quick before”, Bucky admitted, his head falling back against the headrest.

You felt almost powerful at this revelation, you had done this to him, only your body and words and caused such a reaction.

Glancing over at Steve who was lazily stroking himself, watching with half-lidded eyes, you were nowhere near done, using with an authoritative tone, “Take your clothes off”.

As Steve does as instructed, you leaned in close to Bucky, kissing his puffy lips softly, trying to have a tender moment as he whispered, “I love you”, against your lips.

“I love you too Bucky”, you replied with just as much sparkle in your eyes.

“An I am yours”, he reminded, stroking your cheek briefly as Steve finally settled next to you, now stark naked from head to toe.

Spending amount to appreciate his perfectly sculpted body, the muscles that flexed in the subtle light and the trail of hair that surrounded his red, veiny dick. Your mouth filled with saliva as you wanted nothing more than to wrap your lips around him but there would be time for that later.

With as much grace as you could muster, you climbed back over to Steve, straddling his thick thighs and a thought dawned on you. Realising that this might have been the first time you had been fully clothed whilst both Steve and Bucky were naked and it felt incredibly empowering.

Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip as he admired your beauty, “I like seeing you like this”, he complimented, his breath fanning across your face with the close proximity.

You don’t respond to his praise, knowing that if you did talk it would most likely be a pathetic moan and you needed to keep this persona up so once more, you raised higher on your knees, guiding his cock to your entrance and sank down his length.

Once again, you didn’t want to waste time and began slamming up and down his body, hips rolling with each slap. Now you moaned deeply at the sensation between your legs and at the sight of Steve’s naked chest being covered with smears of Bucky’s cum from where it was still weight on the front of your dress.

Steve’s head dropped back at the feeling of you riding him, exposing the beautiful length of his skin and once again something took over your body, the possessive little demon that wanted to mark and claim him as your own. You sucked a path up the side of his neck, biting harshly on the junction where his shoulder and throat met, making Steve sigh in pleasure.

Against the side of your leg, you could feel Bucky’s slacks rubbing against your skin, still all trying to squish into the back of the car so as you finished leaving a particularly dark purple against Steve’s collarbone, you looked over at Bucky.

“Take your clothes off too”

“Yes, hot mama”.

You loved how they both were doing everything you instructed without a moment's hesitation, only spurring you on more with wanting to see Steve cum just as hard as Bucky had. With your fingers delved into the slightly damp hair at the name of Steve’s neck, you held his head in place, making sure that he watched you ride him.

“I want you to cum too, fill me up with your seed, wanna feel you dripping out of me”. Steve’es eyes rolled to the back of his hearing such dirty words leaving your lips. You did want him to cum inside of you, but not yet but he didn’t need to know that just yet, as mentioned, you were only just getting started.

Steve’s hips suddenly started fucking into your harder, planting his feet firmly onto the car floor so he could push up to meet your movements. “That’s it, I want you to cum Stevie”.

Your boyfriend shouts loudly, enough for anyone nearby to hear, holding your hips down with plans to cum inside your cunt, but once again you managed to roll off just in time, only moving your hands up and down his shaft twice before he's coating the two of your fronts in his white hot seed, much like Bucky.

His body twitches and jolts as he tries to come down from his high before he all but collapses into the seat, looking at you with a dangerous smile, “I thought you said I could cum inside of you”.

Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, you replied in a sultry voice, “You will. You both will”

You’re looking at him and then Bucky. Both naked and there was nothing you wanted more than to carry on the fun games but you needed more space, needing to be out of the cramped car. Steve’s fingers drifted to your upper back, grazing over the zipper of your dress but you stopped his movements by pulling his arms away gently.

“I want to go home”, you explained to his quizzical look.

“We will baby, but I need you to cum first”. The way he said need, had your pussy throbbing more and you were aching to find some relief with your own orgasm but that still wasn’t your priority, still planning to make them both feel good.

“No, I want to go home”, you whisper, looking into Steve's eyes and he gave in almost immediately with a huff at not being able to give you the relief he knew you wanted. Bucky banged against the window as you sat back into your seat beside Steve who helped you to pull your seatbelt over your body, whispering in your ear how much he fucking loved you before pulling his own safety restraint across his naked body.

Now you could look out the window, you saw that Natasha and Sam had parked in a random, dark alleyway in an area you didn’t recognise. The two bodyguards returned to the car and didn’t comment about the lack of clothing or the thick scent of sex in the car, both just casually chatting with each other as the journey home continued.

Steve’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire journey and from the corner of your eye, you could see them both getting hard again which thrilled you massively. Finally, the gates to your home were in sight and then you were bidding your friends/bodyguards a good night and walking into the house.

You were still fully clothed except for your panties and shoes, whereas Steve and Bucky were stark bollock naked, erect cocks bobbing in the air for all of the guards and security to see but they didn’t care, neither did you.

Your steps stopped in the entryway to your home, hearing the soft click as the door shut and the flick of the switch as Steve turned on the overhead light. Glancing around at your home, you breathed in the homely scents and let the familiar setting calm the little nerves that were beginning to push to the forefront of your mind.

You began to feel embarrassed by your out-of-control behaviour, shoulders dropping as the confidence seemed to seep away into the wooden floor below. A solid, warm body stepped into your line of vision, a finger was crooked under your chin to force you to look up into Steve’s eyes which were calm and twinkling with love.

“You know we don’t want anyone else right? I have always, and will always just want you”, Steve spoke softly and earnestly.

“Yeah…Yeah I know”, and you did know this. In fact, it was probably the main reason why you hadn’t cried today and let the anger come over your body. Your boyfriends had gone above and beyond for you, to keep up their affections and remind you daily of your importance to their life, you did not doubt it for a second that these girls were ever truly a threat to your relationship.

Another warm body was touching yours to the right, Bucky now taking control of the direction in which your head pointed whilst also raising his little finger, “Just us until forever right?” Your smile reached your eyes now at his little saying, something he’d recently begun saying when you were feeling doubtful and you were quick to hook your own much daintier little finger around his, squeezing them together.

You still felt somewhat embarrassed by your behaviour though and felt the need to apologise, beginning to form the words, “I’m sor-”.

Steve didn’t want to hear this though, cutting you off with his lips and kissing yours feverishly before pulling back when you were breathless. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for today, I’ve never been so fucking turned on seeing you so possessive and jealous. Like Bucky said in the car, I’ve never cum so quick before”.

“Really?” you ask tentatively, looking up into his face, making sure that he wasn’t just saying this to make you feel better but with the intense way his eyes bore into yours, you knew he was very much telling the truth.

Steve had another way of showing you just how much he meant it though as his fingers slide around your wrist, bringing your hand up to touch just how rock-hard his cock was. “Yes really”.

Your hand circled around his length, moving up and down slowly, feeling the soft skin beneath and the ridges from the veins and a drop of precum forming at the end as you moved up his cock. Steve shuddered at the sensation, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, hips rolling in time with your movements.

You admired him closely, from his parted lips to the rosy hint on his cheeks from his flushed arousal, to the sprinkly purple marks across his throat that you had left earlier in the car. It made you feel powerful. Yes, he was your boyfriend and you saw him every day but knowing that he was also the leader of the Rogers Mafia gang and here he was, shuddering at a simple touch of your hand, it was elating.

Bucky was now desperate for your attention as his lips lowered to the shell of your ear, “Let me make you feel good, wanna taste between your pretty thighs”.

You wanted that too, in fact, you were almost desperate to be touched like that but you also didn’t think you were done just yet with making them feel good so you simply shook your head softly.

Bucky frowned, pulling back to look into your eyes, “Why not Mama?”

“Because I want to make you feel good”.

Your hand was still leisurely wanking off Steve who was breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring before he choked out as your thumb brushed over his tip, “And you have made us feel good, baby”.

Bucky once again pulled your attention as he continued talking, “Seeing you today stand up to those girls like someone had taken over your body, that you were willing to go out of your comfort zone just to stand up to those girls, was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I nearly came over and fucked you in the middle of the party if you didn’t drag us out of there anyway. I know you’re soaking for us Mama, let me make you feel good like you’ve done for us”.

Your thighs rubbed together at his words about fucking you at the party, sort of wishing he had just so you could have seen those girls’ faces but then you would have missed out on the fun in the car. The thought of both of their faces as they climaxed had you reaching for Bucky’s cock, joining in with tossing him off at the same pace as Steve, not quite ready to give in yet.

The brunette’s eyes closed at your touch, sighing as he felt the same tension rolling away as you pumped his cock with your hand. There you were once more, pleasuring both of your boyfriends. Both of whom towered over you, and you could spend a minute admiring the way they let you touch them and the power that you held causing a small smile to form on your face, especially as Steve grunted, hips jerking again.

Even though your hands were aching with how hard you were squeezing them both, your movements became more enthusiastic. Steve and Bucky were so exposed, not even in the living room, just standing in the chilled entryway, being wanked off by you.

They deserved this, you decided. Of course, they did, they always made it their mission to worship your body thoroughly and you wanted to replay the favour.

Your mouth opened as you were about to ask if you could suck them off but you decided against asking, the alcohol buzz had worn off in the car but the adrenaline was enough to keep you thrilled.

“Hands behind your back”, you suddenly demanded, still keeping your voice soft and deciding to try and keep up the control for just a little bit longer. Steve and Bucky were instantly placing their hands behind their backs, their chests broadening and feet spreading a little bit to help their centre of gravity.

Both of their eyes were on you now, the various shades of ocean blue staring down at you, waiting for your next instruction, but you didn’t give them one, instead you dropped to your knees.

There was an audible suck in of breath from men as they watched you descend. The wooden flooring was cold against your knees and you had to rise to your fullest length on them to reach both cocks with the length of their powerful legs. You began with Steve this time, licking the underside slowly, holding his eye contact and tasting the salty goodness of his sweat and cum and even a hint of your own juices from where they’d dried on him.

Kissing the tip of his cock and swirling your tongue around the sensitive area, your one hand gripped his base to stop it from bobbing around, whilst your other hand continued to move along Bucky’s shaft.

You couldn’t help but smile around Steve’s tip as you noticed that his shoulders and upper arms were flexing as he tightened his grip behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to stroke your cheek but he was good and kept his arms behind his back as you moved further down his cock with your mouth.

His girthy dick was heavy against your tongue and as it grazed the back of your throat, stroking the area that was your limit. But you made sure to start slow, now wanting to push yourself too much as you could only take half of his length into your mouth.

“Your mouth is always so good baby girl”, Steve praised, a hint of red flushing across his face with his increasing arousal. You hummed in approval, the ache in your jaw and knees worth it to see him slowly bit by bit losing control.

But then, you’re moving over to Bucky who steps closer instinctively to help you reach him and it was an automatic response for you to praise him, the words whispering across the tip of his cock, “Good boy”.

Bucky let out the smallest whine from the centre of his chest and there were notable goosebumps that spread across his thighs, nipples perking as he shivered with the sensation. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen and you didn’t waste another second before pulling him into your mouth, pleasuring him thoroughly.

You spent your sweet time moving between them both, saliva coating your mouth as they teased to push further down your throat. You were surprised just how well they were following your instructions as well as they both kept in that stance with their arms behind their back, their eyes not moving from yours as you moved from Steve’s cock to Bucky’s and vice versa.

Their sweet moans were so beautiful, especially as you slipped further down to suck a ball or two into your mouth, your tongue lapping against the sack and enjoying the way they hissed at the touch.

“You look so good on your knees like that”, Steve complimented at one point as you sucked your cheeks harshly around Bucky’s dick. Looking up at the blonde man and removing yourself with an audible pop before moving back over to Steve and pleasuring him.

It was fun going from one to the other and being in complete control, knowing you were slightly edging them before going to the next boyfriend. Your knees were starting to hurt more now with how long you had been on the floor but you didn’t let this stop you, contemplating if you should get them to finish in your mouth or a different body part.

It also dawned on you that this was the first time you’d been in charge in any sort of intimate moment, both Steve and Bucky being the definite dominants in the relationship. But in truth, you were enjoying this little role reversal and with how feral you were feeling after the interactions with the girls, you were glad to have the liquid courage in you to go through with it.

However, being this dominant with two powerful men was also slightly tiring, trying to decide what to do next when all you really had planned was that you wanted them to feel good. But you also couldn’t deny just how horny you were, in between your thighs uncomfortable with need and soaked enough it was leaking down your thighs.

As you gagged slightly around Bucky’s cock, you could feel it hardening slightly against your tongue and hand as he grunted, “Please, mama”.

“Please what? Talk to me Bucky”, you encouraged, wanting to hear more sweet words coming from his mouth.

The man shuddered once more as your voice vibrated against the tip of his throbbing cock, and as he opened his mouth, you truly took him in and just how desperate he was. His metal arm was whirring at the shoulder with how much he was holding it back with his normal hand, knowing he wanted nothing more than to hold the back of your head in place or cup your face.

“Say my name again”, he asked breathlessly, eyes closing for a breath second as you smiled up at him, one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Which name?” you teased. “Bucky? Buckaroo?”, with each name, you kissed along the length of his member, still tossing him at the base though for stimulation, the same with Steve. “What name do you want me to use? What about James?” He hissed at this name, cock throbbing more and you made a mental note of this and continued. “What about punk? Barnes?... Good boy?”

Steve’s cock also throbbed in your hand at the last name but it was mostly because Bucky suddenly came and you quickly had to swallow the tip and drink everything he was willing to offer, the substance thick and salty as it slide down your throat.

Bucky’s knees wobbled momentarily, frantically praising your name like a song until the last drop of cum was being sucked out of his member. You made sure to pull off of him fully, not wanting to overstimulate him, amazed slightly as he didn’t soften, it continued to stand up proud between his legs.

Smiling up at Bucky again with accomplishment, you then looked over at Steve, squeezing his length harder as he grunted down his own chiselled body at you readjusting on the wooden floor to remain only facing him, giving him your full attention.

“Are you still comfortable down there?” he asked, licking his lips whilst checking in on you.

Holding his eye contact, you licked his thick tip, nodding to his question. Steve chuckled and then sighed into the stimulation, closing his eyes for a second to savour the feeling before looking down at you with a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t believe you baby”, his voice was full of confidence. In truth, you were very uncomfortable, our knees screaming for some relief from the solid floor but also your pussy was desperate to be touched but you didn’t want to make it about you just yet.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky squatting down to be eye level with you, his arms still behind him, “let us make you feel good”, he asked with hope laced into every word.

Pulling off of Steve, and leaned into his warm thigh, nuzzling into the hair that covered the muscle, “But I want to make you both feel good! You’re my boys and not anyone else’s, it’s my job to make you feel good”.

“And you’ve made us feel good but this goes both ways, you don’t understand just how much I want to be in between your legs right now” Bucky admitted, his eyes wandering over your still-clothed body, his cheeks just as pink-tinged as Steves.

Looking up at the man whose leg you were leaning on, you asked, “What do you think Steve?”, before risking a quick nip to his sensitive thighs with your teeth, admiring the way his cock bounded in the air as he jumped slightly.

Steve’s voice came out in a growl, “I fucking NEED to touch you, even if it’s just a kiss. I need you up and off your knees, I know they hurt and I don’t want you in pain, there’s only so much time I can let you worship me before I get on MY knees and fucking beg to touch you, baby, so please, let us touch you.”

Heat flooded through your body at the intensity at which he spoke, you thought you were desperate, but that seemed to not be as severe as the mental game going on in Steve’s mind right now.

Biting your lip to try and hide your grin, you finally succumbed, “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Do whatever you want to me”.

You weren’t exactly sure who had grabbed you first. All you were aware of were hands picking you up and instant relief for your poor knees and then the sound of ripping as your dress was easily destroyed. Then you suddenly found yourself staring at the ceiling of the living room, the soft material of the couch beneath your now naked spine.

Lips were crashing into yours, a hot body crowding over yours, pushing you further into the cushions, their lips completely dominating yours. Matching the urgency in which they moved, you felt the rough scrap of facial hair and could taste Bucky, smiling into the kiss as your fingers gently ran over his body, spending extra seconds of love over the scars that he’d accustomed during his life.

As you opened your mouth to moan, Bucky’s tongue swallowed the noise, not relenting with his movements. You were so lost in the body hovering over yours that you were unsure as to where Steve was until you could feel him on one of your legs, kissing the sore knee cap, massaging the area before straightening your leg, and then circling around to the back of the couch to do the same with the other leg.

The relief was unbelievable at being able to extend your legs fully now but there was even more relief as Bucky began to explore your body, sucking on each of your nipples greedily, an action you watched closely. With each in further down your body, he made sure to lick and kiss every area of skin in his path, leaving the skin tingling with arousal.

Both of your legs were then being pushed towards your chest, giving Bucky the perfect view of your cunt, presented to him like it was dinner and with the hungry way in which he was admiring you, you knew that was basically what had been offered to him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he praised, kissing your inner thigh. Steve then sat next to your head, finally able to stroke the pad of his thumb across your cheek, something he had been internally begging to do since getting home and seeing you drop to your knees.

“We’re always just yours”, Steve reminded you, needing the tender moment.

“I’m always going to be yours too”, you responded with love before glancing down at Bucky who was watching with a softened look in his eyes, “and I’m always going to be yours as well,” Bucky mumbled the words back to you, his warm breath teasing the wet area soaking your cunt. Glancing down his body, you caught sight of his cock, still fully erect and pulsating. “How are you still hard?” you asked honestly, he’d already cum twice and hadn’t softened a single bit.

Bucky smirked at your question with quiet arrogance, “I’m always hard for you”. As soon as he finished his sentence, his tongue was pushing into your folds, tasting everything you had to offer. He didn’t bother with teasing, immediately delving his warm muscle into your cunt a few times, before finding your clit and rolling it around with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

Your moans were animalistic and finally had some stimulation after being horny for what felt like hours. Steve’s fingers drifted over your lips as he admired your pleasured expressions, just like you had been doing to the two of them.

“Kiss me. Now!” you demanded urgently.

“Yes, ma’am”. He was leaning down without hesitation and you realised just how much you’d missed his lips since coming home, feeling the freshly shaved cheeks against yours that were such a different sensation to Bucky’s facial hair. They were both so different and yet so similar and they were both yours.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to have you clenched your thighs around his head, frantically feeling the orgasm building in your core. A couple of minutes of clit stimulation from Bucky’s tongue and two fingers grazing over your tender spot within your hole and you were cumming with heavy breaths and moans.

Steve pulled away from the kiss to watch your pleasure, and also allowed Bucky to hear your unfiltered moans, then you were heavily breathing, hands falling onto the couch with relief of finding your peak.

Steve drops to his knees beside the couch so he can whisper into your ear, “I’m going to take you upstairs, lie you in the middle of our bed and I’m going to fuck you until you’re full of my cum. Then after I’m dripping out of you, Bucky here is going to do the exact same thing. This night isn’t ending until you’re full of both of us”.

You’re pathetically mewling at his words, reaching for him and he quickly scoops you up into his arms. You knew your dominant persona was slowly fading as they both scrambled to make you feel good and you didn’t mind that as much, wanting what he said he was going to do, more than anything else in the world.

As the three of you enter your bedroom and Bucky turns on the side lights, you realised you were nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck where you’d left the scattering of marks. Stroking a finger over the bruised skin, you whispered, “So pretty”.

Steve smirks at your words, liking the thought of you marking him to show that he was yours. Laying you back into the centre of the bed, Steve is quickly on top of you with as much urgency as Bucky had downstairs on the couch.

Hiking your legs up and around his waist as his face dropped to hide into your neck, he's pushing his pulsing cock into your quivering cunt. You were thankful that he didn’t wait, wanting your bodies to be moulding together, his hips slapping into yours and his mouth was now moving against your neck, sucking and biting to match the moves you’d been doing in the car.

You could feel just how possessive and frantic his touches were, reciprocating how you had felt and it only made your heart beat harder, moan louder and hips rocking faster to try and match his dominant pace.

“You’re mind”, he suddenly grunts, against your lips, biting your lower lip and letting it snap back a second later. Sitting up slightly on his knees, he holds your jaw firmly in his grip, making you watch him as he shifted his angle up, hitting directly into your g-spot and he moved with such speed that all you could do was hold onto his wrist and scream out his name.

Your orgasm had you seeing stars, cunt desperately squeezing in pulses around Steve’s cock, so tightly that he too couldn’t hold back as he came, pushing his length all the way in so you could milk him properly, your walls convulsing in time with his throbs. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his cum filling you up and as he pulled up, some of it spilling out and running down your perineum.

Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, pushing your legs apart, and watching his cum at your entrance. “There’s my best girl”, he praised, reaching down with a finger to scoop the drips that had escaped and attempting to push them back inside of your body before moving out of the way for Bucky.

Bucky was more than ready to fill you up, helping to turn you onto your side, sliding an arm under your head and resting your leg up on his hip as he spooned in behind you. Much like Steve, Bucky didn’t waste any time before sliding in, the two of you moaning at the sensation of having Steve’s cum there, it causing extra squelching noises.

Your tits bounded on your chest with each fuck of Bucky’s hips into yours, his mouth attack your neck with just as much aggression as Steve who was now sitting and watching the two of you with a content smile.

You were absolutely fucked out of your mind both from emotions and physically being exhausted, a faint hum settling in your mind and body.

“You’re doing so well for us, Sweet Mama”, Bucky praised against your cheek as he reached down your body to roll your clit in circles to match the rhythm of his pounding hips. The stimulation was almost too much but it was also exactly what you needed as you held onto his arm desperately moaning out his name.

“Buc-Bucky… gonna cum”.

“Cum for me then Doll, want you to cum on my cock, so pretty when you cum”. His praises were like magic for your cunt, as it squeezed tightly in arousal. Those, matched with his tight hold on your body, his fingers playing with your clit and cock fucking you hard, you easily found your pleasurable high.

He didn’t stop, chasing his own orgasm which you were glad about, reaching down to grab the hand between your legs, your clit becoming a little sensitive now so you bought his hand up to your face and nuzzled into his palm.

“Mine”, you mumbled, feeling a little bit subspacey now.

“Yours, all yours, only yours, FUCK!” Bucky felt like he was in heaven as his thrusts stuttered slightly as he finally found his release, pumping his hot seed into your core. Your eyes were struggling to stay open with how exhausted you felt, but you watched as Steve approached, just in time for Bucky to slip out of your raw cunt.

“How beautiful does she look?” Bucky asked Steve as he held up your leg. Steve’s eyes cleaned as he looked at the mess between your legs, both his and Bucky’s cum were leaking from your hole, mixing with your own juices.

“So fucking beautiful”, Steve whispered lightly, kissing your ankle.

Your eyes closed fully now, sighing into the mattress as Bucky kissed your cheek one more time before untangling himself from your body. It was Steve who was touching your body next but this time with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning in between your legs but cum continued to trickle out so he just left it at that, discarding the material and moving to the top of the bed, dragging you easily along with him until you were laid out on his chest.

You felt happy and content as Bucky joined you both in the bed, watching as Steve turned on the TV attached to the wall. Distantly, you could hear Bucky and Steve discussing what take out order to get, making sure to get everything you would usually get and saying they would wake you once it was there, you needed a rest.

Your heart swelled with love, happy to be surrounded by two men that absolutely adored you and no other stupid girls were going to ever change that.

[astrophileous]

hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing! congrats on the milestone and happy birthday month 💕

tyyy so much anon 🥺❤️ I hope you're happy with how this turned out 💞

Warning(s): fem!plus-sized!reader; I legit think there's no warning for this. not even swearing. but pls lmk???

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer looked down when he felt you shuffle against him. "Cold?"

The two of you were lounging on the couch with Spencer sitting on one of its end and your head leaning on his chest. Your legs were curled up on the cushion underneath a tiny blanket, the flimsy material barely doing anything as you pressed yourself even closer towards your boyfriend, trying to chase the warmth from his body heat to combat the chill running down your spine. Spencer noticed what you were trying to do and instantly tugged at the other blanket on his lap, laying the material gently around you and smiling when he heard you sigh in appreciation.

"What about you, Spence?"

"I'll be fine. I run hot."

"Mmh. Can't argue with that."

Spencer squeezed your thigh in response to your cheeky remark, your whole body shaking in laughter before you focused your attention back on the TV screen ahead.

It was a rarity for Spencer to find himself home safely at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not to mention to have you home at the same time as him instead of at the ER tending to patients. On nights like this, Spencer made sure to always cherish the time with you in whatever way you liked, even if it meant he had to sit through nearly five hours of a Hallmark movie marathon after stuffing his stomach full with greasy Chinese takeouts.

The man was head over heels in love with you, and he would do just about anything to keep that mesmerizing smile permanently on your face.

"That's adorable," you said breathlessly after a few minutes of silence.

Spencer didn't want to admit that he had just spent the last ten minutes getting absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty, so he quickly tore his gaze away and directed it back towards the TV screen. His confusion only tripled in size when he saw that nothing particularly stood out from the scene. It was just another shot of the two main characters having yet another one of their silly little arguments as a cheesy jingle played in the background.

"What is happening?" Spencer asked at last.

You glanced at his question and scoffed. "You weren't paying attention again, were you?"

Spencer had the audacity to grin, and it was pretty lucky of him to have been blessed with such a pretty face that could melt even the hardest ice around your heart.

"Okay, handsome. Listen carefully. So, what happened is, the girl—"

"Bess?"

"Yes, Bess. Well, she and Aidan decided to meet for lunch to talk about the deed to the land, right? But that talk didn't really lead anywhere as they ended up fighting, again, and Bess walked away from the restaurant. Aidan ran after her and they fought again on the sidewalk, but then they got interrupted by the rain."

"Of course. The rain. How original."

You hid your bemused smile before continuing, "The two of them ran for cover in this little bookstore after that. Bess was shivering because she was wearing this little black thing, and Aidan noticed. So like the gentleman he is, he took off his suit jacket and gave it to Bess. They both ended up spending a couple of hours in that little bookstore waiting for the rain to stop, and Bess wore Aidan's jacket for the rest of the day. She didn't notice she still had it until she went home in the evening."

Spencer nodded along as he waited for your recount to finish, expecting to find clarity by the end of it only to be met with an even bigger confusion than before.

"I still don't get it. You thought that it was adorable that... they got caught in the rain?"

"And they call you a genius?" you teased, shrieking when Spencer lunged forward to tickle your sides. "No, silly. Not the rain. The jacket."

"The jacket?"

"Yeah. I think it's nice." You smiled, your eyes crinkling as you turned back towards the TV. "I've always loved that. When the guy gives something of his for the girl to wear. His T-shirt, his jacket, his sweater. Anything. The girl would wear his clothes and they'd usually look too big on her and it all just feels so... domestic. There's a sense of belonging in the gesture itself, sort of a non-verbal way of him claiming the girl as his. A little territorial, perhaps. But I personally find the whole thing adorable."

After he was done hearing your explanation, Spencer found himself at loss for words. "I didn't know that. That's actually a thing?"

"It's a pretty common trope in romance books and movies. One of my favorites, too."

"And you like that? Having your boyfriend lend you his clothes to wear?"

"Well, I don't know. I, uh, I actually never tried it myself." You suddenly grew bashful as you started playing with the hem of your pajamas top. "Everyone I've dated has always been smaller than me, so I never got the chance to experience any of that."

"Sweetheart—"

"Relax, Spencer. It's fine," you assured him. "I'm not sad about it. Do I feel like missing out sometimes? Yes, maybe, but it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll survive just fine. Promise."

You resumed watching the rest of the movie after that, the short conversation being shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in the final scene of the movie where the guy, finally and inevitably, managed to win over the girl with an arduous chase through the airport concluded by a romantic confession in front of gate 4E.

After movie night on Friday, the following week unraveled in a hectic frenzy for you. The ER where you worked saw a full house nearly every single night, forcing you to take not only one, not two, but three extra shifts in a single week. By the time the next Friday rolled around, you were exhausted beyond belief, collapsing face first into bed as soon as you arrived home without even waiting for Spencer to get back from his week-long case in Idaho.

The following morning, you woke up to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. You followed the scent in your sleepy haze until you came face to face with your boyfriend standing behind the stove, unruly curls and a handsome smile as he glanced up at the sound of your footsteps. You couldn't even imagine how dishelved you looked in that moment—with dried drool around your lips and pillow imprints on your cheek—but the way Spencer assessed you from the distance, it made you feel as though you were meant to be sculpted as a flawless copy of Aphrodite herself.

"Good morning, gorgeous," your boyfriend greeted as he pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter. "Breakfast?"

The two of you spent the entirety of breakfast telling each other about your respective week while enjoying Spencer's pancakes that, surprisingly, tasted even better than they smelled. After the dishes were washed, Spencer grabbed your hand and started leading you back towards your shared bedroom.

"Come with me for a moment. I wanna show you something," he said.

You trailed after Spencer in curiosity, compliantly fulfilling his order to sit on the bed as he vanished into the ensuite. Three minutes later, Spencer reappeared in front of you, donning a grin so enormous that it nearly distracted you from the foreign pair of clothes he had changed himself into.

"What do you think?" Spencer asked enthusiastically.

"What do I think?"

"Yeah!"

"It's cute, Spencer. Is it new?" Spencer nodded eagerly, confirming your suspicion. "I see. It's kinda... too big for you, don't you think?"

The hoodie Spencer was wearing came in your favorite color, but it hung on his lanky frame almost like a poncho. Spencer still looked good in it, though. You admired his talent to still appear attractive even when he was wearing something that didn't fit him properly.

"I picked out a bigger size on purpose," Spencer revealed, taking off the hoodie before extending it towards you. "Here, try it. I went two sizes above your usual so it should feel roomy."

Your perplexed stare zeroed in on the clothing in Spencer's hand. "Wait. I don't understand. Did you buy this for me?"

"Um, no? Well, technically yes." Spencer rubbed his neck, suddenly turning sheepish as his gaze found your eyes. "Remember last week when you told me about girls borrowing their boyfriends' clothes? And how you never got to experience that? Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went ahead and ordered this hoodie for myself but in a larger size. That way, you can steal it from me from time to time. Have something of mine you can wear when you want to."

Silence descended into the room in the wake of Spencer's declaration.

His heart was a sonorous thumping inside his chest. Spencer waited for you to say something, but your voice never came. It wasn't until the first sob broke through the quietude did Spencer realize that you were actually crying.

"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

The man knelt in front of you in no time, his palm clenching at the side as if he was ready to go into battle to fight whatever or whoever caused the shed tears in your eyes. You lifted your head just enough to see him, smiling shakily when you saw the taut lines above the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe you bought this hoodie for me," you muttered once your sobs had subsided.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's why you cried? Because I bought you a hoodie?"

"It's not just because of a hoodie, Spence. It's the fact that you cared. You listened to my silly thoughts and you remembered." You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him melt against the touch. "This is the nicest, most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That just breaks my heart, gorgeous. You deserve so much more. I'm literally doing the bare minimum."

"No, you're not. You're doing so much. You're doing everything, Spencer."

You kissed him, then. Urgently and vehemently; trying to convey just how intensely your heart felt for him. When you pulled away, Spencer was wearing a big smile undoubtedly identical to your own.

"I love you so much, Spencer. You know that, right?"

Spencer's smile blossomed. In his heart, he sketched the way your face looked in that moment to burn your beauty into the depth of his mind.

"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart."

[heauxvibez]

Can You Stand The Reign

warning: smut (18+), @harmshake has inspired me for today's oneshot, so thank her and enjoyyyyy!

"You're such a fucking whore, I swear! I should've listened to everyone who warned me about you!" I unleashed my frustration, my voice cutting through the pulsating energy of the club as I stormed out.

Roman's hand grasped my arm, attempting to halt my furious exit, but I pulled my arm away, shooting him the darkest glare I could muster.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me. I hate you," I spat, not even bothering to gauge his reaction before I turned on my heel and marched away.

Between the booming music and the dim lighting, it seemed like not many eyes were on us, but honestly, I didn't care. He clearly wasn't bothered by being the center of attention, so why should I be?

We'd been craving a night out with friends, a rare treat amidst our busy lives. I was thrilled at the idea of stepping out with my man by my side. He'd cleaned up nicely, looking absolutely irresistible as always. But of course, the good vibes couldn't last for too long. Roman disappeared onto the dance floor with his cousins, and in no time, a repulsive groupie latched onto him, grinding shamelessly. That was the moment I lost it.

As I stormed outside, the rain pounded down mercilessly, drenching me within seconds. I didn't know where to go; I hadn't driven here, and the last place I wanted to be was in a car with him.

Seeking dryness is the shadows of an alley, I unleashed my pent-up emotions, throwing my clutch to the ground and succumbing to a fit of rage. My screams echoed off the walls, swallowed by the downpour that drowned out all other sounds.

My back slid against the cold, wet brick as I sat on the ground. My tears mingled with raindrops as I replayed the scene inside the club. The image of him grinding on another woman burned in my mind.

"Get up." The commanding voice shattered all my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I shot back, thrown back at the audacity.

"You heard me. Get up," Roman repeated.

"No," I growled back, crossing my arms in stubborn defiance, only to feel strong hands seize my jacket collar, hoisting me up effortlessly.

"Let me go!" I thrashed against his hold, landing a slap to his face.

My attempted slap didn't even move him. Was he some sort of superhuman?

"I dare you to slap me again," he challenged, his brown eyes boring into mine with an intensity that scared me and.. turned me on?

Resisting the urge to lash out again, I swallowed my pride, allowing him to release me to the ground.

As he closed the distance between us, gripping my ponytail and tilting my head back, my body gave in immediately. His tongue traced a path from my neck to my ear, sending my heart beat right into my panties.

"Now be a good girl and come back into the club with me," he whispered, his breath warming my body up from the cold.

"No," I resisted, though my resolve wavered under the weight of his gaze.

"I guess 'no' seems to be your favorite word today, huh baby?" he quipped, his fingers undoing my jacket zipper before I could protest.

"Roman, get off of me," I protested weakly, my anger subsiding despite me still attempting to fight back.

But even as I fought against him, a part of me couldn't deny the thrill of his touch, the way his lips had me in a chokehold.

He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, but he didn't bother with finesse, tearing the fabric apart with a roughness. His eyes darkened with desire as he noticed I wore no bra beneath. With a shrug, I let the remnants of the shirt fall to the ground, baring myself to him.

I reached around him, releasing his beautiful locks from their confine. His curls tumbled down his back, soaking up the raindrops that threatened to fall down any further.

He attacked my lips with an intensity that caught me off guard. I hadn't intended to respond, but I found myself kissing him back eagerly. Gripping his hair tightly, I pulled hard, wanting him to feel the sting of my anger. He groaned against my lips and sanded his teeth into my bottom lip with force, leaving a bruise in its wake.

"That hurt, you idiot!" I hissed, my frustration boiling over.

He chuckled, "You get what you give, sweetheart.." he retorted, callously discarding my leather jacket onto the cold, wet concrete.

"You're such an asshole," I muttered half-heartedly.

Capturing my nipple between his thumb and index finger, he rolled and pinched it mercilessly. "I enjoy being an asshole," he confessed, before dipping his head down and taking my nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing it with a hint of aggression.

I tugged on his earlobe, a silent plea for gentleness, but he seemed intent on testing my limits. His lips trailed back up my neck, inhaling what was left of my baccarat rouge 540 perfume. He moaned at the scent, it was his favorite.

Lowering the zipper on my jeaned shorts, he smirked at the revelation that I wore no panties. "Fuck, you know just how to turn me on," he murmured against my lips.

Without hesitation, he plunged three fingers inside me. Gripping my jaw firmly, he tilted my head back, locking eyes with me as he relentlessly thrust his fingers in and out, the feeling of him massaging my walls had me at a loss of words.

"Fuck the club, we're heading home," he declared, withdrawing his fingers before plunging them back in forcefully, eliciting moans of approval from my lips.

His kiss was tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his touch. "I know I fucked up tonight, but I'll make it up to you. I promise," he whispered, his fingers curling inside me, hitting just the right spot.

I cursed loudly, clutching his wet hair as a euphoric wave crashed over me, my body trembling against the cold brick wall.

As I regained my senses, he steadied me with his arm, his fingers lingering in his mouth as he savored the taste of me. His tongue danced between his fingers, and he slurped the lingering juices that threatened to drip down to his palm. A whimper couldn't help but escape my lips at the sight.

He handed me his damp shirt and my jacket, leaving him in a damp undershirt that clung to his glistening muscles.

"Here, put this on for now until we get home,"

Taking his soaked shirt, I pulled it on, my eyes tracing the contours of his body hungrily.

Oh, we're definitely going to finish this when we get home..

------------------------

I was not planning on posting today LOL but here ya go :)

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[growingfunwithaimain]

Amidst the rainbow of sweets, Lily hesitated over a single candy. Its shell shimmered with a mysterious blue hue, calling to her like a siren's song. With a flick of her wrist, she snatched it off the shelf and brought it to her lips. The instant she bit down, her senses were assaulted by a burst of flavor.

But the surprise didn't end there. As she savored the delight, her skin began to transform. Starting from her fingertips, a wash of indigo washed over her limbs, spreading like ink through water. By the time she finished the last crumb, her entire being had been dyed a rich shade of midnight blue.

Yet, the crowd within the candy shop carried on as though nothing had changed. Their laughter echoed against the glass cases, their voices mere background noise to the surreal tableau unfolding before them.

Just when Lily thought things couldn’t get any more interesting, her hips decided to join the party. They began to widen, expanding like a balloon filled with joy. Soon, they were rounder than ever before, hugging her frame with a confidence that matched her newfound color scheme.

Meanwhile, her thighs grew thicker, like two ripe melons ready for plucking. The denim of her jeans clung to her legs, emphasizing every muscle and curve. Even the most stoic customer couldn’t resist the urge to ogle her backside.

In the midst of all this, Lily found herself reveling in her new form. She twirled around, watching the reactions of those who dared to look. Some turned away in shock, while others openly admired her figure. For Lily, it was a moment of pure euphoria, a celebration of her own beauty.

And so, she stood tall, proudly displaying her metamorphosis to anyone brave enough to catch a glimpse. After all, what better place to showcase one's newfound glory than inside a candy store?

With each passing minute, Lily grew taller, stretching towards the ceiling like a beanstalk reaching for the sky. Her abdominal muscles flexed beneath her skin, creating ripples that would make even the strongest gym rat jealous. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly expand anymore, her shirt gave out, exploding in a shower of confetti.

Beneath the rubble lay her bare bosom, nipples standing at attention like sentinels guarding her treasure trove. The sheer audacity of her outfit malfunction drew stares from every corner of the shop. But Lily wasn’t fazed—she knew exactly how powerful she looked.

Her gaze locked onto a young man who had been eyeing her since the beginning. He blushed furiously, his cheeks turning redder than the cherry lollipops he held. Without saying a word, Lily extended her hand, beckoning him closer. With a nod of consent, he approached, his steps hesitant yet eager.

Together, they left the candy store, arm in arm, heading toward whatever adventure awaited beyond its doors. As they walked down the street, Lily felt invincible, knowing that wherever they went, they would turn heads and start conversations. Because sometimes, the best kind of candy isn’t something you eat; it’s someone you can take home.

Another request for @realmofgoddesses! I think this has been my favorite request to work on so far! It was a lot of fun and took a long time to get it the way i wanted it but that's why im taking requests! to learn more and improve!

[isaegi]

CRAVINGS

feat. gojo satoru x reader (gn)

includes: canon divergence (au), pining gojo teehee, fluff, strangers (gojo is a persistent customer at your workplace, absolutely does NOT let up) to hinted luvers mwahaha, JUST SO FLUFFY GOJOS SO DNJAUDSHUFAEK :((

A/N: absolutely have to share this drabble/headcanon idea that has been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks with you guys. definitely have thoughts of turning this into a proper fic

MEET CUTE (but it turns ???) with Gojo Satoru who slowly becomes your diner’s most regular customer— and it all whittles down because of you.

It all starts when Gojo bursts in through the diner's entrance during your closing shift while his best buddy, Geto, is waiting for him in his old man's car. The engine runs loud and persistent, and you can practically feel the base of music from his car thumping from where you stood behind the counter.

Despite there being literally no one else in the restaurant save for a couple of employees cleaning down tables for the night, Gojo still has the audacity to open his mouth and ask, "You guys still open?"

"Gojo, there's 5 minutes until closing." You hear your supervisor, Utahime, grit from behind clenched teeth. Her face most likely contorted into a forced smile, you're sure. "You can come back tomorrow at a more appropriate hour."

"Come on, Utahimeee~" you hear the white-haired male groan, ignoring her quick remark for him not to call her by her first name so casually. "Throw me a bone here; it'll be quick I promise."

"The chefs are already packed up and heading out for the night," she throws over her shoulder, "and I suggest that you and geto go do the same." With that, Utahime's already swiftly turning on her heel to make a sharp beeline toward her office stationed beside the kitchen.

Honestly, you feel kind of bad for the guy. But it seems like this isn't his first incident of walking into the Iori's family business just minutes before closing.

Now it’s just you, that tall— stupidly attractive— stranger and the sound of the door creaking shut behind Utahime that accompanies the silence that hangs in the room that you both share. Despite being turned away, Gojo had yet to turn and head back out into the vacant parking lot— save for his car and Geto who is still waiting for him in it.

Blue eyes soft with confusion paired with pink, pouty glossed lips graced his face. If Utahime wasn't gonna throw him a bone, you might as well. Besides, the sooner you send him on his way with whatever he came here for, the better. You wouldn't wanna have to stick around for when Utahime comes back into the dining area to chew him out.

"What were you looking for, specifically?" you pipe up from the counter. "If it's anything from the display I'm sure I can just throw it in a to-go container for you."

Gojo flicks his attention away from Utahime's office door to you. You can't quite place your finger on the emotions he's wearing, but the face of pure disbelief is one that automatically strikes you.

"You serious?"

You nod, already shifting your attention away from his starstruck gaze to head toward the dessert display. It's only a small gesture of kindness that you'll be contributing, nothing too grand. So, it's no biggie. "As long as word doesn't get back to her, it should be fine."

Just hand him whatever and send him on his way. It'll be a one-time thing.

"Tell on you to her?" Gojo joins you on the other side of the display case, eyeing you through the glass when you bend down to unlock the sliding door. "I could never."

You drag your eyes away from the display up to his face, only to find that he's already staring at you. Okay, cool! You bite down a yelp and suppress the strangled noise with a cough. "So, which one would you like?"

Again, Gojo's face is unreadable, but you watch how his eyes trail along your face, drinking you in. Almost as if he were to blink, you'd disappear right before his very eyes. And with how close he is you can really see it. Really take in how pretty this man is.

After what feels like forever in a matter of mere seconds, Gojo's gaze finally flits down to your hand awkwardly hovering over a sad-looking piece of purin. "I'll take that one," he says, nodding his head toward the custard.

You blink. "Oh—" You clear your throat. Out of all the different pastries on the shelves, he chooses that one? "Okay..."

You reach for one of the plastic containers stationed under the display counter and peel the packaging open. Grabbing one of the tongs, you reach for the purin and slowly yet surely make your way to plop its contents into the container for this man.

Everything was going peachy until the moment a part of the custard grazed the thumb of where you were holding the container— effectively ruining a bit of its circular shape.

"Shit." You curse, immediately flicking away the caramel that grazed your finger. You pray and hope and pray to whatever higher power that he wasn't watching this whole ordeal go down. You shoot him a quick glance to confirm your suspicions.

He's still watching you.

You ignore his breathless chuckle at you, and in turn you choose to watch as he reaches for his back pocket for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it. It would've been tossed anyway," you assure, waving your hands to further drive home the point to him that there was no need to pay. You loved Utahime, but you absolutely did not want her grilling you tomorrow as to why your till was off, despite you dropping the entirety of your money the night prior.

"How about I—"

"By the time I step out here Gojo you better be gone! We're! Closed!" You hear your supervisor shout from the back.

The sigh Gojo heaves is one riddled with exhaustion and disappointment. Yet, he doesn't let the easy smile resting on his lips slip for a second.

"Thank you," he breathes, he lifts his hand— the one holding his dessert— and shakes it for emphasis as to what he was thanking you for. Still facing you Gojo takes a step back, "See you again, yeah?"

And he stands there. Waiting with his head tilted to the side, hand still pressed against the entrance door's handle.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He's fucking waiting for you to respond. "Oh, uhm," you feel your face warm under the intensity of his gaze. "I guess?" What are the chances that you do see him again though?

Satisfied with your answer, Gojo nods. He backs out of the restaurant, humming an incessant tune under his breath as he trots back to his car.

Ever since that day— much to Utahime's utter confusion and exasperation— Gojo has been making more frequent visits to the diner. And with his visits came questions of where you were, if you still worked there, how you've been. So on and so forth.

Despite you telling him numerous times, that there's no need for him to pay back the favour, gojo still swings by. He still drops in and sits right in your section. Still acts like he doesn't no what's "good" from the menu and what's not. And still asks you for your recommendations whenever you do wind up having to take his order.

Coworkers of yours giggle, blush and squeal over to you whenever they are also encountered with the remarkable beauty and divinity that is Gojo Satoru. Their hushed whispers whenever they see him walk past the diner's doors. Their dejected whines when they realize he's walking out of their sections and slipping into the booth toward the back. Slipping his lanky, lean body into your section's booth.

It's like he can't let you out of his sight for long, because he craves the occurrence of running into you too much. He keeps coming back in hopes to be more familiar with you, and you with him.

HOPING THIS HEADCANON GOT YALL CRAZY LIKE I... HE'S SOFKJSDSRFKL :')) he deserves anything and everything. so this will most certainly be expanded on in a fuller fic with much more depth and nuance &lt;333

just had to get this word vomit out! i hope u enjoyed :))) please let me know ur thoughts!

[achaoticeternal]

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you.  word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.  

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat.  His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.  

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…

[xuchiya]

j.yunho {espresso for two?}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

I change the location from New York to Japan. hehehe

Jeong Yunho.

Just the name sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over you. Two weeks. Two measly weeks since he'd so casually declared, "We need some space," his voice as smooth and forgettable as the lukewarm latte he always ordered.

Space? What for?

It wasn't supposed to end this way. You and Yunho have been together for three years, a whirlwind romance that blossomed during your college days. He is your everything: the man who is charming, funny, with a smile that could melt glaciers. Spent hours lost in conversation, future plans whispered over steaming mugs of chamomile tea at your apartment after a long day of class or even workloads, the very one you now toiled in, perpetually surrounded by the bittersweet aroma of love and heartbreak.

The cracks started appearing subtly. Late-night texts unanswered, cancelled dates for "work emergencies," a growing distance that chilled you to the bone. You tried, you did— clinging to the remnants of what you both had, showering him with affection that felt increasingly one-sided. Then came the bombshell – a text, impersonal and cold, informing you of his "need for space."

Your world had tilted on its axis. The vibrant cafe, once a haven of shared laughter and stolen glances, now felt suffocating. Your co-workers, bless their oblivious souls, tried their best. Your senior head took notice of your distant and pale face–offering you to take a quick break which you deny saying that you just haven’t retouched yet after the morning rush, Wooyoung the ever-optimistic barista, bombarded you with motivational quotes. And Seonghwa, the stoic manager, offered gruff words of support (his way of showing he cared). But nothing could mend the gaping hole in your chest.

A particularly demanding customer snapped you out of your reverie. Her shrill voice, laced with entitlement, taking a deep breath, you plastered on a customer service smile, channelling your internal turmoil into forced cheer. Maybe, just maybe, a day spent slinging coffee and feigning happiness would numb the ache a little.

But as you steamed milk softly, the bell above the cafe door chimed, a jarring note in the morning lull. Your gaze flicked up, drawn by a sudden prickle of unease. There, by the counter, stood Jeong Yunho. His usual carefree demeanour was replaced by a shadowed weariness. Your breath hitched, a thousand unspoken words churning in your stomach.

He hadn't changed much. The same tousled hair, the same charming smile – a smile that now felt like a stranger's. He scanned the menu, a flicker of surprise crossing his features when your eyes met. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"I—," he finally said, his voice strained. "Hi …"

Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A million questions bubbled up, but professionalism reigned supreme. You plastered on a neutral smile, "Did you find anything you like, sir?" You managed, your voice surprisingly steady. Adam's apple bob before a small slick smirk creeps on the corner of his lips, “Yeah … you.”You rose an eyebrow, finally showing your emotions that went from ‘Fuck! my ex is here!’ to ‘Let me punch him, the audacity!’. He saw your reaction, his eyes darted on the menu before crawling his throat, “J-Just espresso ..” “Take out or dine in?” “Dine .. in”

You look down to punch his order, “Do you want to add anything, sir?” He shakes his head but his lips move again, stuttering, “M-Make it two .. please.”

You breathe sharply before giving him the receipt after he pays for the two espresso, telling him to sit for a while. He nodded before mumbling a ‘thank you’. As you pulled the shot, stolen glances confirmed the changes you sensed. Dark circles marred Yunho's eyes, etching lines of fatigue onto his previously youthful face. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. A pang of sympathy warred with the anger still simmering within you.Just why? Where did it all go wrong?

When your barista announces Yunho’s name, you watch in the corner of your eye as he places himself on the window side of the cafe with the two espresso in his hand. As you punch the order of the customer in front of you, a tap on the shoulder interrupts your work, you look over to see Seonghwa with an anticipated look over his usual stoic look, “Yes manager-nim?”He breathes sharply, eyes flicking towards somewhere before looking back at you, “You can take a break … someone needs to see you and let them explain themself.”

You immediately knew who he was talking about. You know Yunho never goes unprepared and certainly, he comes with a fixed mindset.

You sigh, removing your apron as Seonghwa rubs your back soothingly before he places the apron on him to take care of your position. You look at the side to see your senior head, giving you an encouraging smile along with the others cheering on you. You felt grateful as they have been supportive of your relationship with Yunho for a short while of announcing about your boyfriend with minimal information about him yet they never ask you questions about it until you do so.You approached his table, sat down opposite of him. He had an awkward look on his face, “Yunho please get to the point, rush hour will be an hour—”

“I’m sorry.” Those simple words were so easy to say yet the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. The air hung heavy with unspoken words. Yunho's apology, though sincere, seemed like the tip of a much larger iceberg. The man across the table fidgeted, hesitant to dismiss an apology so abruptly. The tension crackled between them, amplified by the approaching rush hour Yunho himself had mentioned.

"My excuse won’t do justice to the pain you went through and my sorry can not heal all those pain .The pain you feel is a constant reminder of my failings. I have doubted myself so much that I have neglected you and become selfish for my own emotions and at the end, I have regret all of those things, I have regret ever hurting you, rejecting your small offerings or even your love— I am sorry.” Yunho spoke with sincerity in every word he said, his hands were clinging on the cup of his espresso—controlling himself to not take your hands—while his eyes were glued to you the whole time.

You were slightly taken back, his words were piercing through your head. Your heart soars to the extent that, maybe just maybe, he did regret what he had done. You have known Yunho for as long as you both were before in the stage of dating, you have seen him grow to be a man and you have seen how he came to learn from who he was and what he is today.

Yet there goes the mind from letting you decide from your emotions. Your thoughts run through the painful days you have cried, doubted or even questioned your worth— you were also afraid to go on your days without thinking of your looks that had you wearing a mask to cover yourself— you were a complete and shattered person inside your apartment. The battle between your head and your heart, it is hard to listen.

Yunho, being the observant he is, took notice of your shaking eyes and contemplated heart. He knows what’s going through your head, every thought and he cannot blame you. Even he would be in a complicated mess if your ex suddenly came into your life after months of disappearing after a text so shitty.

“You do not have to talk or anything, I just came by to explain and maybe … have a closure before I go.” Your eyes that were fixed on the table slowly, trails towards his glassy eyes.

“Cl-Closure? Yunho what–” Why does he need closure? You were confused, your heart was expecting something more from what he had mentioned even though your mind had concluded that he will ask for a second chance but this? A closure? That is something you weren least expecting!

Yunho’s head nodded, a small smile on his lips, “Yeah– I have .. thought about it that you deserve an apology… “ He looks around the small cafe, eyes twinkling in admiration before his eyes settle back to you. The softness never left and it made your heart hurt, “I may have not talked to you for weeks but I have come across you a few times and I have seen you grow day by day. You slowly regain back that smile, your contagious laugh and your glow. You deserve so much more than the pain I cause you.” Both of your eyes were turning glossy, his nose was clogging making his voice slightly muffled yet no tears were evident.

Finally, he lets go of the cup and reaches for your hand which you let him hold on to. He squeezes them like he used to, “And you deserve those, you deserve a better chapter … without me.”

There, the water in your eyes had finally streamed down your cheeks when he gave you the smile that you have adored. A smile that reassures you that things will be okay, eventually. You’re gonna be okay and that he will be there to support you.

“Yu-Yunho …” Yunho shakes his head, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting them go. You jerk slightly, wanting to hold him again, “I’m off to Japan with my mom. Seoul will always hold a piece of my heart, but Japan has pushed me in ways I never imagined. I've grown here, found a strength and independence I never knew I had. As much as it pains me, returning feels like something I have wanted. Our paths have diverged, and forcing them together wouldn't be fair to either of us.”

Yunho reaches over, wiping a stray tear, you shamelessly lean into his touch. Yunho’s breath hitches, itching to hold you back in his arms but he has to do it, he has made up his mind that things have reason to happen, “Maybe someday, our paths will realign. Until then, I'll cherish the memories we made.” He stood up, giving you the other cup of espresso while the other tight in his hand.

He looks at you one last time before leaving the cafe. As the door chime hits close, your body shakes as silent sobs echo the, now deserted cafe. The tears blinded yet love never does it, it wounded you to make you wake up in reality that things were over and the questions of him leaving you were answered.

You look at the cup of espresso in front of you, and more tears fall on your cheeks as you read the letters, ‘Espresso for two?’ the inscription seemed to scream, each word a fresh tear on your heart.

You traced the lettering with a trembling finger, the memory flooding back. It was his idea, a silly spur-of-the-moment purchase during a weekend, he had to pull you out from your shift and drag you out to have the rest of the day with him. You'd laughed, teasing him about his overenthusiasm for a simple coffee cup. "What if you never have someone to share it with?" you'd joke, never truly believing it.

He'd squeezed your hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then it'll be a reminder of me sharing this espresso with you so i could espresso my love for you," he'd promised, his voice laced with a confidence you envied now. You laugh at his joke, making him chuckle as your enthusiastic laugh echoes down the street.

A sob escaped your lips, the sound harsh in the sudden silence of the cafe— despite your co-workers glancing at you once in a while to check up on you. The espresso remained untouched, a cold, bitter echo of a love that had turned as quickly as burnt milk. But even through the fog of grief, a flicker of defiance sparked. Wiping your tears, you straightened your spine. Maybe it wasn't meant for two today, but that didn't mean it couldn't be filled someday.

You finish the cup in a go, eyebrow furrowed. You have made up your mind a little to late, but there are things were meant on a perfect time.

You look outside by the cafe windows, "I'll share the espresso with you again."

part 2? another ending? idk 😭😅

[sosa2imagines]

My Darlin'

Warnings- Dark Bucky, dubcon, forcing, manipulation, forced/manipulated kissing and touching.

---------------------

It was a dark and gloomy night, you and your best friend Kate, were driving home through an isolated road. After a long day at work, you just wanted to get home and relax. However, as Kate was driving, you heard a loud bang and suddenly felt the vehicle shaking. The tire had punctured. You and Kate, got down and tried to remove the tire, but you didn't have a spare one. They both stood staring at each other, not sure of what to do next.

Just then, they saw a house by the side of the road. "Look, a house! Let's see if someone lives there, who could help us!" Kate said. "Yes, I do not think it would be a good idea to wait here alone in the dark. Let's hope they are welcoming and helpful." You replied.

The house looked old and dilapidated, but they were desperate and took a risk. They went up to the house and knocked on the door, hoping that someone would be home.

The door swung open, revealing a handsome man. He was a tall, imposing figure with a dark, brooding expression, wearing a long sleeve Henley and gloves. His eyes were hard and sharp, and he seemed like he was expecting them. He looked at them both, and said, "What do you need?"

You and Kate gave each other a look, you both knew it is not wise to judge people by their appearance, maybe he is really friendly. Either way, you both are in a situation and don't think you can get out of it, without talking to him.

Kate was quick to explain him, the car situation. As Bucky listened to her explain, he couldn't help feeling drawn to you. Your beauty, innocence, and gentle nature were irresistible to him. He couldn't take his eyes off you. You could feel his intense stare, making you uncomfortable. Kate quickly noticed your discomfort and grew frustrated with Bucky's behavior.

"Stop staring at her," Kate said, "she obviously doesn't like it."

As Kate said these words, Bucky felt a deep sense of satisfaction and amusement in making you uncomfortable. He was enjoying your discomfort, and was eager to keep staring, almost daring you to challenge him further.

Bucky was enjoying the feeling of having power over you. He kept staring, and you felt more and more uneasy as he continued. You had never felt such intense gaze before, and it made you feel, vulnerable and exposed. You felt your heartbeat increase, you wanted to turn away from his gaze, but felt like you couldn't break the connection even if you wanted to.

Feeling nervous and exposed under Bucky's gaze, you mustered the courage to speak. “Can you please help us?” you tried to speak with a confident tone, but your voice trembled ever so slightly.

Bucky smiled at your attempt to act confident. He was amused by your nervous trembled voice, and enjoyed your awkward gesture to speak confidently. He responded, “Of course darlin’ I’ll help ya. But I have a condition.”

"What is your condition?" you asked politely, trying to hide your nervousness and discomfort.

Bucky leaned closer to you, with a smile that exuded sinister intent. He leaned in so close that it made your skin crawl and you felt an intense sense of discomfort. "You have to be my girlfriend," Bucky said seductively, "then I will help you out."

You were shocked by Bucky's condition, and felt a mix of disgust and fear. You immediately pulled back and took a step away from him. You had no desire to be Bucky's girlfriend, and you found his offer insulting and offensive.

"Wait, are you serious?" Kate stepped forward and placed a protective hand on your shoulder. She was surprised and outraged by Bucky's offer, and she felt disgusted at his audacity. She was also horrified by the way he had lean in and come so close to you, it reminded her of a predator.

"Yes, I am serious," Bucky said with a sinister grin. His eyes twinkled with delight, and his voice dripped with sensual intent. "If you want me to help with the flat tire, you must be my girlfriend."

"That's outrageous!" Kate shouted angrily. She was appalled at the way Bucky was treating you, and she was offended at the implication that her friend was being objectified and reduced to nothing more than a prize to be won.

"Calm down, calm down," Bucky said sarcastically. He laughed at Kate’s protective reaction, and seemed unfazed by her outrage. "I was just joking, I'll help you with the flat tire without any conditions. I was just messing around."

"It's not funny!" Kate snapped. She was livid at the way Bucky had treated them both, and he was not making her feel better by dismissing their emotions. She was even more outraged by the way he was trying to act like it was just a joke, and that she was overreacting.

Bucky chuckled at your and Kate's reaction, and then nodded briefly. "Okay then, let's get the tire changed." Bucky smiles and nods, and motions for them to follow him. As he walks, he subtly looks at you a few times. He is quite interested.

As you follow him, you whisper to Kate, “Are you sure this is a good idea? This guy looks like he has some dark intentions on his mind..." Before Kate could reply Bucky speaks “Let's hurry, the sooner we get it done, the better."

Bucky, leads them into the basement. The room is very large, but dark and creepy. There is a single dim light in the corner of the room that provides minimal lighting.

"Here we are, I will get my tools." Bucky tells them.

The surroundings were quite eerie, as you were looking around, you saw something shine in his pocket, upon further focus, your gaze fell on the gun in Bucky's pocket. You had a feeling that he wasn't as harmless as he seemed. You quickly grabbed Kate and motioned her towards the door. They slowly backed out of the door, and Bucky caught the movement.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky asked mockingly. He stood in front of the door, blocking the exit and looking down at the two women with a smirk on his face.

“We…we..we were just going to wait outside for you near the car” you tell him in fear.

He glanced at you both and sighed. "You were just trying to leave without my permission, weren't you?"

"We weren't trying to leave, we...we just wanted to..." Kate fumbled with her words, feeling embarrassed and intimidated by Bucky's presence. She didn't want to come off as a coward, but she also felt nervous about being caught in a room alone with him.

Bucky laughed at their flustered reaction. He saw the fear in their eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of making them feel anxious. He slowly walked up to them, and towered over them in intimidating manner.

 "You thought you could leave and get away from me?" Bucky said, his voice dripping with seduction. He was close enough that he could see the girls' faces clearly, and he could smell their scent. He was delighted by their fear and discomfort, and his desire for them was growing stronger by the moment.

“Now I have to charge you for being disrespectful towards me.” Bucky laughed as he moved and walked to fix the car. As he was working, his eyes were quickly scanning up and down your body and lingering where they shouldn't. Bucky chuckled looking at you, "Okay then, let's get the tire changed." He pulled out a jack from his toolbox. With practiced efficiency he began to remove the tire from the car, working quickly and efficiently with little effort. His eyes drifting away yet again to look at you, up and down some more, this time a little less subtly.

He was quick to fix the car. But even quicker to grab your arm. “Now let’s talk about my charge.” He smiled.

“How much do you want?” Kate asks, opening her purse to pay him. Bucky smirks proudly, “80$”. Your jaw dropped wide open. 80$? Are you crazy? You snapped, trying to pull your arm away. Only for him to make his grip tighter.

“Either pay me or?” “Or what?” you ask nervously.

Bucky leans closer “You become my girlfriend.” You are getting more and more scared of the situation. Kate is trying her best to keep her emotions calm, but is struggling. You try to get his hand off you, but his grip is very tight.

"Stop it. I'm not interested in you. You need to leave me alone, please...." you plead. Bucky doesn't seem to recognize your refusal. He continues to hold you tightly and leans in towards you. "You may not be looking for a relationship, but I'm sure you will agree to some fun anyways. Let's go have some fun, alone. You'll enjoy the time we spend together, I guarantee it."

Bucky seems to get more and more insistent for you to agree to a relationship with him. Now he is offering two options either let him do whatever he wants with you, or give him money instead. He leans in towards you and whispers, "You can either let me do what I want with you, or pay me. Make a decision now, or I'll just take you by force."

“Can you please let go of my hand, I need to check my wallet.” Bucky subtly takes your wallet from you. “Ah only cards and few dollars” He announces proudly.

“We can pay you through app.” Kate suggests. But Bucky refuses.

Bucky laughs at this. "I don't want your cards and apps, I want cash. You're lucky I am even offering you this option. Just accept my offer, or I'll have to take her by force."

He continues to grip your arm, now getting slightly closer than before.

“Okay okay, is there any ATM nearby?” Kate asks frantically. Bucky thinks for a moment, and thinks of an easy way to get free cash from them.

"Yes, there is an ATM just down the road. If you can get me 80$ cash, we can sort this whole thing out. I have a strong feeling you won't come back with the cash, though." “You got to trust us.” You tell him politely. “No darlin’, you are going to stay here with me, till your friend is back with the cash.” "Okay, fair enough. Just take your hands off me now.” You tell him. Bucky removes his hands, but remains close to you.  

Kate is not sure about leaving you alone, but having no other option she agrees to go and get the cash. Promising you to be back as soon as possible.

As Kate leaves, Bucky turns back to you and laughs softly. "It seems your friend has left," he said seductively. "Now it's just you and me, all alone."

"What do you want with me?" you ask nervously, feeling uneasy being alone with Bucky. You could sense his intention, and felt uncomfortable with his sudden attention.

"I want you to be my girlfriend." Bucky answered, his tone dripping with a sensual intent. He was enjoying the way your fear of him was making you quiver and shake in his presence. He continued to inch closer toward, invading your personal space and feeling no shame. "I'm not going to be your girlfriend!" you protested. You started to become frantic and stepped back to get away from his grasp, but he simply kept inching closer.

"Why not?" Bucky asked, his tone becoming more coercive and demanding. He continued to inch closer, as if he was trying to trap you against the wall. The fear in your eyes turned him on even more.

"Look, I'm sure you are a nice person. But I'm not interested in any sort of relationship right now.” You tried to explain.

Bucky was getting furious at your rejection, and his face darkens. "You think you can just reject me like that? You think you're so much better than me?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. It's just that I'm not looking for a relationship or anything like that right now." You tried hard to explain it to him.

Bucky seems furious that you are not willing to go along with what he wants.

"You are a pretty girl, you can't just turn me down like that. Let's have some fun, you know you want to. You have beautiful eyes. You are a very gorgeous, I can see why I am attracted to you."

You are shocked by the compliment, but remain cautious since he seems very dangerous. "Thank you for the compliment, but it is not going to change my answer. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. Plus, my friend will be back with the cash to pay you shortly."

Bucky lets out a big laugh, "An hour is quite a lot of time, don't you think? We will have so much time to talk about things. To get to know each other, do something. Don't you find that exciting?"

Your eyes widen in fear as you realize that he had tricked you and Kate.

Your voice was a whisper in shock, "You lied about the distance, didn't you? You tricked us to get me out here all alone with you."

"I sure did. Now that we're out here, away from anyone else, you'll have to do what I want. Or I will take you by force. Your choice." He smiles.

You are scared by this revelation. Your breath is heavy, you feel like you could cry. "What do you mean by 'take me by force?' Are you going to hurt me?"

"I don't want to hurt you, but I can be forceful if you're not... Receptive. I'm a lonely man, you know. I haven't had any company in years, and I would really like that to change. You could make a different choice..." he tells you calmly.

Your mouth is dry, and you shudder at the thought of him being forceful. "Well, what choice do you mean? I've already told you, I'm not interested in a relationship right now..."

"Yes, but you're also in a situation where you could change your mind, at least for one evening, that is." He offers.

You can feel your heart is beating very fast. “Why do you have a gun?”

"This gun?” He removes it from his pocket to show you, “I'm allowed to carry it, I have a permit for it. I would never do anything bad with it, but you should know... It could be used if I'm not happy with anything you do."

Bucky leans in closer to you and whispers, "The last time someone didn't listen to me... It didn't end well." A chill goes up your spine, as you wonder, what he did to the last person and whether he might do it to you too. You nod, afraid to anger him further.

"I can't keep my eyes off of you. Your lips are so soft and delicate, just begging for mine..."

Your breath catches and you feel like you are going to faint.

"You can look around all you want, but there's no one here but me. You're out here in the middle of nowhere with me, and there's no one to help you." He laughs.

 "Those lips of yours are really distracting me. I can tell you know how to use them, they look like they are made for one thing..."

"Please, I'm really not interested in you like that. I'll even pay you whatever you need. Just, uh, please, just stop."

Bucky laughs as he sees your fear. "I know what would make you more inclined to do what I want. I can give you a small taste right now, and if you like it, then I'm sure you'll change your mind about having some fun tonight."

You are shaking, and your mind is spinning. You don’t know how to react, and not sure if you would be able to make a run for it.

"You really should listen to me, you're so much weaker than I am. But I can protect you, if you let me... Your life could go on without any worries at all, as long as you let me have some fun with you tonight."

Your throat is dry and afraid to respond. You are shaking with fear, and do not know what to say.

He grabs you by the shoulder, "You know what I want from you, don't you? I want you. And you know you want me, I can see it in your eyes. Just let me have you for this one night, it won't hurt anyone, I'm sure. I am going to get what I want from you, one way or another."

Bucky's grin remained plastered across his face as he leaned forward. His breath smelled of liquor as he spoke, his voice low and soothing. You could feel the air of his hot breath. "Don't try to fight me, just accept it. It will all be over a lot more quickly for everyone if you just let me have my fun with you. It'll be enjoyable, and nobody has to get hurt."

Bucky takes your face in his hands, and forcibly pulls you towards him. He holds your face tightly, his eyes staring directly into yours.

"You are a beautiful girl, and I deserve a kiss from you as a reward for letting you stay here. Give me a kiss, now."

The fear grows in your eyes, as you can't move your face away from him. Bucky is grabbing your face tightly, and holds you in place forcefully without letting you move away from him.

He lets out a low chuckle and smiles at you, clearly amused by your fear and that he had the upper hand in this situation. He ran a finger beneath your chin and you shivered from the coldness of his touch despite the heat of his breath.

"Kiss me now. We both know you want to, you're trying to play the whole innocent card all for the act but I see right through it, darlin' "

You try to shake your head, but Bucky doesn't let you. He pulls you towards him, closer than before, and leans his head close to yours.

The smell of liquor seemed to get stronger the more he closed the gap. That same damn grin remained on his face as he kept edging closer until his voice was almost in your ear.

"You're too pretty to be wasting away your time alone. You a whore? You got a boyfriend?" “No I'm not! You shout at him and he laughs in your face

"So much denial in such a pretty little package. Just let me feel your lips, that's all I'm asking for...What do ya say?" He asks with a hint of excitement, his breath still heavy against your skin and his eyes locking in on your lips. His breath was hot and smelly as he waited for an answer, holding back the urge to force himself on you.

“A kiss is never just a kiss” you voice is barely a whisper. 

A wry smile creeps across his face as he leans still closer to you. Your fear was obvious now and he had you right where he wanted.

"Just a nice lil kiss. Come on now... just to show me ya appreciate me looking after ya. What do ya say girlie?”

“Okay...” You don't know what made you say yes, the fact that you are scared of him or the way he is so confident with you.

"That's a good girl....I'm going to make you feel what no other man can. I'm going to show you a whole new world... You're just going to relax now, and you're just gonna tilt that little head of yours towards mine.. and then we're gonna kiss. Okay?"   You nod, not knowing what to do and Bucky now kisses you aggressively, pressing his mouth against yours forcefully with his tongue. Your eyes are closed and your breath is heavy, as you continue trying to resist and pull away from him. However, you feel completely helpless against his strength.

"That's a good girl. I knew you couldn't refuse me a simple kiss...”

He grabs the sides of your face, and pulls you even closer, letting his tongue explore your r mouth.

You whimper in fear, as you feel his hand wander down your body, Bucky laughs at your reaction. His hand continues to explore your body, as he continues to kiss you.

"I think you're enjoying this a little more than you let on... Don't be shy, you can give into me. I want to play with you more..."

As his hands keeping roaming, you are both terrified and aroused by his advances, not knowing what to do. You try to resist it, but your body can't stop reacting to his touches.

Bucky notices this reaction and seems to relish it. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you even closer against him.

"Don't try to fight it, I see how much you're enjoying this. I'll let you enjoy it some more if you let me continue..."

Your breath is heavy and your eyes are closed tightly. You can't fight him off anymore. You let out a soft whimper as he bites your neck. You feel like there's nothing you can do in this situation, and simply let him mark his claim. You find yourself enjoying it, and the fear is mixed with feeling of arousal.

"Good girl, you're enjoying this, aren't you? I can see this is making you want more..." His teeth graze your neck, leaving a faint bite mark.

You felt his lips touch yours and your body trembled. Your breath hitched as you began to kiss back, your body going weak and your heart beating out of your chest. Lost in that moment your mind had turned into a blank slate. They were so close their lips met and her hands grasped onto the back of his neck.

As the kiss deepened, his hand started to roam freely, groping your breast. Bucky notices Kate approaching, and immediately lets go of you muttering profanities but not before squeezing your boob again. You were speechless not able to make any sense. 

He watches Kate approach, and realizes his actions have failed. He stares down at you, feeling angry that Kate has interrupted his plans.

He speaks to Kate in a demanding and insistent way. "So, you've finally come back with the cash to pay me. This girl here must have a kind friend, to want to pay for her so much."

Kate hands him the money, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. This annoys him, but he can't do anything about it from here.

Bucky nods at her, accepting the money, but he still doesn't like his plan being disrupted. Bucky takes the money and counts it, in front of them both.

He smiles at Kate, but still feels some anger from the disturbance. "I'm glad you came back with the money. I wouldn't have wanted to have to get forceful just yet, but if you hadn't have come back, I would have had to. That girl would surely have wanted more from me, if she had seen more of what I could do."

 You think about how weak you were against his advances. His words and touches made you feel such a mix of fear, arousal and weakness. You cannot believe yourself, horrified at your reaction towards him, but can't stop thinking about it.

Bucky looks at you and smiles. "Now that I've been paid, I assume you're going to leave."

He glances at you in a suggestive way, as if implying that he and she will meet again soon.

What you don’t know is, when Bucky had taken your wallet, he subtly took out your id that had your address and number.

He smiles at you, and whispers, "I'll see you again soon. I can tell you want more..."

Bucky laughs and leaves, his anger still simmering, but determined to see you again very soon.

Kate sees the fear and shame in your eyes, and becomes concerned. She can't help but notice that Bucky's eyes were wandering around you, and she's noticed the bite mark on your neck.

"Did something happen? I saw how he was looking at you, and your bite mark on your neck... did something happen while I was away?" she asks cautiously.

You were about to tell he that nothing happened, but you notice Kate already has figured out what happened.

"He just kissed me, it's not a big deal. It's not like it was forced or anything... I am sure he wasn't going to do anything else. I am fine, I promise."

Kate hugs you and assures you.

"It's alright hun, everything is fine. You did nothing wrong. It's him who did something wrong, he never should have acted like that. You can tell me as much or as little as you want to. I'm just glad that you're okay, and that he didn't actually do anything to you."

"Please, let's go home."

Bucky watches them from his window, feeling anger and resentment that he didn't get to do more. He is disappointed that his plans were interrupted, and determined to make up for that loss, and see you again as soon as possible.

You stare out of the window, not saying anything, and feeling a sense of mixed emotions. You find yourself unable to get Bucky's face out of your head, thinking about how he made you feel. It was all a bit intimidating and frightening, but you can't lie to yourself, feeling a sense of arousal from it in hindsight.

You can't stop from thinking about the touches and kisses from him. Disgusted, feeling guilty that you are turned on by the encounters.

You feel the texture and pain from his bite mark, and feels a sense of guilt in how it makes you feel.

A week later after the incident………

You are back to your normal routine. Getting dressed for work, feeling like your mind is on autopilot. You think about the events the whole time, and can't stop feeling a mix of shame and arousal over what happened.

You are going about your normal routine, unaware that someone is watching you.

Someone knocks on your door. And when you open it you can’t stop from being nervous, scared and aroused?

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 03

note: this is part 3 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, slight jealousy, brief mentions of alcohol, sickness, academic stress, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, chan has a bit of a breakdown, bathing scene, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, praise, possessiveness, biting/marking, the slightest hint of exhibitionism, chan is very needy, stopping in the middle of a scene, oral (reader receiving), lots of begging, crying during and after sex, nursing, handjob, aftercare

word count: 22.6k

There were parts of Chan in everything you did now.

It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on you with a strange sort of delight that you’d subconsciously taken on his habit of pressing his lips together into a thin line—when giving a quick smile, when lost in thought, and, most importantly, when silently dissatisfied. For such a subtle movement, you found that, at times, it expressed your frustration better than voicing it ever could. A Chan-like quality, through and through.

Likewise, he’d adopted your habit of reaching up to brush the tip of your nose whenever you felt self-conscious. Of all the quirks he could’ve picked up on, naturally, it had to be one he could make ample use of. Now, any time your gaze lingered on him for a bit longer than necessary (which admittedly, was often) his thumb would swipe over the adorable apex of his nose, a shy half-smile following the action like clockwork. It took some audacity, really, for him to steal a mannerism of yours and make it infinitely more endearing.

Even less obvious details were fair game for the two of you to snatch up, from mirroring each other’s walks, to parroting certain words and phrases. You’d melded into one another, so much that, in some cases, you weren’t quite sure which traits he’d gotten from you, and which traits you’d gotten from him.

You wondered if the marks you’d left on each other were what had landed you in the situation you found yourself in now.

“Betrayal! That’s what this is! A Sanrio pencil stabbed straight through my giant, loving heart!”

It had been a good five minutes of this. Changbin was back from summer break—skin tanned, hair fluffy, muscles somehow more defined than ever—and with the way his voice echoed shamelessly throughout the cafe, he was making sure everyone knew it. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet him properly before the one-man show (which you’d prepared for, but clearly not enough) began; starring none other than Seo Changbin himself, of course.

“Please calm down before you get us kicked out.”

“Calm down, she says!” he cried. “You’re a real scary person, y’know that? Hiding this from me, your good friend, Changbin—your best friend, Changbin—all this time!”

You felt a tinge of guilt for what wasn’t the first time. Despite the melodrama of it all, you knew that he had a point. There was no reason for you to have kept something like this from him for so long, especially when it involved not only one, but two of his closest friends.

“I’m sorry, Bin,” you sighed. “I really did wanna tell you. I was just worried it’d make everything so awkward.”

“Well, of course it’s awkward,” he agreed. “But I still want to know! At least that way, we can feel awkward together!”

Something about his reasoning made you soften. It was just like him, to be more concerned that he’d missed out on the chance of being a supportive friend rather than the potential mess that could stem from your involvement with Chan. You would probably do well to have a little more faith in people—a message the universe seemed to have been hammering into your brain a great deal lately.

“Maybe I would’ve told you if you’d talked to me more than once over your entire vacation,” you teased.

Changbin’s mouth fell open in protest, suddenly finding himself playing defense. “Twice!” he corrected indignantly. “And don't try to spin this on me! What about when you called me, huh? That was the perfect opportunity!”

“The perfect opportunity?” you echoed in disbelief. “In that case, I’ll be sure to follow up your birthday wishes next year with news that I’m dating your best friend.”

“Scary, scary person,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask for a hug—you’re not gonna put a knife in my back are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s in the air back home that makes you act like this?”

Still, you felt nothing but fondness as you leaned fully into him, letting it sink in for the first time just how happy you were to see him again. With the way his big arms squeezed around you, you knew he wasn’t truly upset either—even if, quite frankly, he had a right to be.

“I missed you, though,” you patted his back. “You and all your drama.”

“Well, I missed you too,” he huffed. Just when you thought he might be ready to drop the theatrics and move on, he pulled away from the hug, a horrified look forming on his face.

“Oh my God…have I been third wheeling this entire time?”

“Get in line, Seo Changbin.”

His nagging and whining eventually died down, morphing into more playful jabs as the two of you ordered your drinks and found a table to sit at. Exactly as you’d predicted, once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he was all proud grins and smug righteousness, preaching on and on about how he’d told you so from day one and how you should never doubt him or his genius intuition ever again.

“I was mostly joking when I said all that stuff about you falling in love with him, y’know,” he clicked his tongue. “Didn’t think you’d actually go and do it.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you tried to retort, but much to your dismay, your voice cracked right as you uttered the dreaded word.

“No way,” Changbin broke out into cackles of pure glee. “Don’t tell me you went and had a secret wedding without me, too?”

You shoved your straw into your iced coffee with a bit too much force, face heating up. “The more you laugh, the more you sound like someone who isn’t getting his belated birthday present.”

At that, he clamped his jaws shut, giggles halting with a speed that was almost impressive. “Sorry, sorry,” he gave you a sheepish grin. “Behaving, now.”

“How’d you find out, anyway? Did Chan tell you?”

“Nah. Though, I should’ve guessed just from the way he gets whenever you’re brought up. All shy and smiley, it’s honestly kinda nauseating.”

He scrunched his nose up in distaste, but the words had no real edge to them. In fact, there was nothing but affection there. It made your heart skip a beat, embarrassingly enough, to know that just the mention of you was all it took to have that kind of effect on Chan. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly be more taken by him, he proved you wrong.

“If not Chan, then who?” you hesitated before asking. “Minho?”

“Hey,” the whine was back in his voice. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe I figured it out myself?”

You said nothing, smiling around your straw and sipping contently away at your coffee.

“Yes, it was Minho,” he grumbled.

Though you’d been expecting it, the confirmation still made your skin crawl, overtaking Chan’s warmth with a cold discomfort. You hadn’t seen or heard from Minho since your encounter in the convenience store a few weeks ago, and each time you thought back to him, the pit of unease in your stomach grew stronger. You wondered just how much he’d told Changbin. Judging by his behavior that day, he seemed to be aware of everything—whether he was the type to mince his words, or to expose it all without a care in the world, you weren’t quite sure. Even if you’d spent more time around the guy before he’d decided to switch up on you, you got the feeling that you still wouldn’t have any clearer insight into how his mind worked.

“Speaking of Minho,” you began slowly. “Has he…said anything lately?”

Changbin snorted. “He’s said a lot of things.”

“Sorry. I mean, like, about me.”

“I don’t think so,” he squinted, eyeing you up and down. “Why? Are you planning on picking off my friends one by one?”

It was lighthearted, just a joke, but it nearly made you grimace. You’d be glad to never even cross paths with Minho again if it meant avoiding that harsh, accusatory glare that had yet to fade from your mind. Experiencing it once was more than enough.

“C’mon, Bin. It’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time.”

You gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, only noticing a moment too late how unconvincing it’d come out. It caught his attention, and he glanced up from his drink to give you a curious look.

“Everything alright?”

You were reluctant to confide in Changbin about the matter, both to avoid burdening him with something so silly, and because of the very unavoidable fact that Minho was just as dear a friend to him as Chan. He’d only just found out about your relationship; immediately piling its potential problems on him was the last thing you wanted to do. At the same time, however, you figured it was better to ask someone who knew Minho well before you jumped to conclusions. Not to mention, Changbin might genuinely believe you were interested in rounding up all his friends if you didn’t clarify why you’d brought up the subject of Minho in the first place.

“I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was being kinda weird.”

“No issues there.”

“Not in his usual way, though—at least, I don’t think so?” you tried to be careful with your words, acutely aware of how sensitive you may come off if you chose the wrong ones. “I just got the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that much. So, I was wondering if he’s brought it up with you.”

Changbin frowned, taking a moment to mull over what you’d said.

“You think Minho doesn’t like you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “What’d he say to you?”

“Just some weird things about me and Chan,” you shrugged. “It almost felt like he was trying to intimidate me, or something. Like, he thinks I have bad intentions.”

A troubled look crossed his face—brief, but just long enough to foster your unease. He went quiet for a few moments, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip, then, at last, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nah, that can’t be it.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Minho knows you’re not like that,” he said simply. “And he wouldn’t just hate you for no reason, either. Definitely not it.”

You made a small noise of acknowledgement, pretending to understand what he meant, but Changbin still seemed to sense that he hadn’t gotten through to you.

“You’ve seen the way he acts around us, right? He’s probably just messing with you now that he feels more comfortable,” his voice mellowed. “He might seem difficult, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s a pretty great guy, actually. Soft at heart.”

“I believe you,” you murmured. You didn’t doubt for a second that he was a good friend to Changbin and Chan; you’d witnessed it firsthand in the time you’d spent around them. The problem was, you seemed to have done something to land yourself as the target of his inexplicable wrath, and you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of the line of aim before his eyes pierced an arrow straight through you.

“Maybe you’re right. I must’ve just misunderstood him.”

“He’s easy to misunderstand,” Changbin reassured you. An unpleasant thought appeared to cross his mind, twisting the small smile tugging at his lips right back into a frown. “Just…don’t tell him I said any of that. He didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

“Of course not,” you grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Though you weren’t entirely sold on Changbin’s reasoning, it was at least worth a shot to reconcile with Minho before completely giving up on a positive relationship with him. It wasn’t even so much that you were hurt by his unexpected hostility, you just wanted to know what had caused it. You wanted to fix it.

In fact, you were determined to fix it. For both your sakes, and—most importantly—for Chan’s, you were going to make it right.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

College parties, as it turned out, were still very plainly, very aggressively, not your scene. Even with Chan and Changbin there, even with some of the most talented students on campus putting on performances that were, unsurprisingly, really, really good, even with the three-month long promise of getting to see 3RACHA live finally coming to fruition, you were having a hard time enjoying yourself.

You didn’t think it was possible to be experiencing this many different emotions at once. Every one of your senses was suffocated with something. The stinging smell of alcohol, the uncomfortable sheen of sweat on your skin, the perpetual ringing in your ears, the swarming mass of people, and the residual taste of artificial strawberry—the only refreshment you’d managed to take a few sips of before being swept away into the crowd over an hour ago. You were overwhelmed, you were exhilarated, you were anxious, you were impatient. You appeared completely calm amidst the chaos ensuing all around you, yet somehow, were more of a mess internally than even the most intoxicated of attendees.

You’d spent a majority of your time scattered, tossed amongst your friends at random intervals throughout the night. Fifteen minutes with Changbin before he and Jisung had retreated to the bathroom to practice their lyrics, twenty minutes with Iseul before she and her boyfriend had gotten into a heated argument about him not matching the energy of her dancing (something you were sure to get earful of later), thirty minutes with various friends from class before realizing in dismay that they consisted almost exclusively of touchy and crybaby drunks, and a mere five minutes with Chan.

Shortly after the party had begun, you’d arrived to find him already looking cheerfully exhausted. He’d been there for hours already, having offered to help the committee with all the setup and decorations for the event. Even once the festivities were in full swing, he was still dashing around the venue left and right, assisting with soundchecks and the transfer of equipment with hardly any time to prepare for his own performance, let alone to socialize. It warmed your heart as much as it tugged at it. Even on a night where he should be his own top priority, he was still bending over backwards to help everyone else but himself.  

It lasted until he was all but forced to stop, dragged away by Changbin and Jisung to set up for 3RACHA’s showcase. The moment you’d been anticipating all night—all summer, really—the sole reason you were even putting up with an environment so out of your wheelhouse to begin with, came at last. The three men shuffled on to the makeshift stage with an awkward sort of swagger that you only ever saw in them when they were together. It was like each one of them needed the other two with him to lock properly into place, to align their energies and bring out the best in each other like a finely-tuned machine. In a way, that in itself was a testament to the song they’d be performing.

The familiar sirens you’d heard countless times before, pumping through your phone speakers in a personal concert, now blared through the hall for everyone to hear. Chan’s eyes fell from the screen of his laptop where he’d been getting things situated, landing directly on you without even having to search the crowd. He gave you a grin, dimples flashing, and that was the last you saw of it for the next three minutes and thirty seconds.

You’d already had an idea of what Jisung was capable of based on the handful of 3RACHA songs you’d heard, but to see it unfold in person was something entirely different. The goofy, scatterbrained junior that always looked a bit on-edge every time you spotted him, now rapping at the speed of light with each word flowing like torrents in a stream. Something about the way he read the lyrics directly off his phone, even for a performance like this, made it all the more mesmerizing to watch. He was the kind of person you could tell was a hidden genius.

Changbin became every bit as fierce and intimidating as you’d initially believed him to be the first day you’d met. Voice raspy and eyes dark, looking straight into the crowd almost like he was challenging them with each effortless line he spit out. It served as a reminder that all his drama and flair wasn't just something you could tease him for; it was something he could own the stage with, as well. His pride radiated off of him in waves; not only in himself, but in them as a unit, and every ounce of it was justified in your eyes.

Undoubtedly the most drastic transformation, however, was Chan. From the moment Zone began, the boy you’d come to know seemed to go dormant for a while, replaced with something you’d never quite seen in him before—something approaching confidence. You thought back to that day in the library, where you’d tried to imagine in amusement how someone like him, who could hardly look you in the eye while playing snippets of his Placebo instrumental, could be the one behind such powerful lines. You didn’t have to imagine it now. He had the least parts out of the trio—you were certain he’d chosen Zone as a way to give Jisung and Changbin more time to shine—but he made just as great of an impact. You could feel the effects of it, on you and everyone else around you. There was no question about it; he belonged there.

By the time the performance was over, you could add a few new emotions to the ones swirling inside you: happiness, pride, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You found Changbin amidst the sea of people first, weaving and dodging through the crowd until you reached him, or, rather, crashed directly into him. His face broke out into a wide smile as soon as he realized it was you, barely getting the chance to say anything before you pulled him into a hug.

“So?” you could hear the giddiness in his voice as he gave you a tight squeeze.

“You killed it, Bin! That’s gotta be the best you've ever sounded,” you hoped he could hear your praises over the pandemonium. “You gonna remember me when you’re famous?”

He pulled away with a laugh, lifting his chin in—mostly—feigned bravado. “I’ll consider it,” his eyes sparkled. “Did you notice the new move I did?”

“Obviously,” you imitated his stylish salute with two fingers, and his smile grew even wider. “And what’s with that sound you made at the start of your verse?”

“It’s my new signature!” he declared.

“So cool! You’re so cool, Seo Changbin!” You threw a hand over your heart with a giggle, and he bumped his shoulder against yours, suddenly embarrassed.

If he said something in response, you didn’t quite catch it, effectively losing all focus the instant your eyes caught sight of a group of people gathered nearby. Chan was at its center, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to keep up with everyone’s chattering all at once. A visual of him you’d pictured so many times before, now right before your eyes—a charming, social butterfly who made befriending others look as simple as breathing. It truly sank in at that moment, that the boy who’d come to mean so much to you in so little time, had a whole other side to his world that you didn’t even know of. The view of his thousand-watt smile wasn’t for your eyes alone, the pieces of himself that he put into his music weren’t solely for your ears.

It made your heart sing; he should be adored. But at the same time, that sensation from earlier made its presence known once again. The girl next to him, the head organizer for the event, if you remembered correctly, reached out to touch his arm as she laughed. Her hand lingered for a moment too long, a look you knew all too well swimming in her eyes.

Oh. Suddenly, the mystery feeling wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.

Something ignited deep within you, completely different from the familiar heat Chan set off in your skin. It was immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. You weren’t the type to bristle over something so small—at least, you’d never thought you were. You wanted to blame it on something; the fact that you hadn’t seen Chan for most of the night, the fact that it felt a bit too reminiscent of what he used to do whenever you’d dared to take your attention off of him for even a moment. But Chan would never even think to pull anything like that, it went against his nature. His nature just so happened to entail being adored wherever he went.

You knew it was nothing more than that same selfishness that had reared its head the night you’d first slept together. Not quite insecurity, and not quite jealousy. It was rooted in something much simpler: a matter of what felt right, and what didn’t. You’d wanted to be done with the troublesome feeling from the moment you’d first encountered it—to nip it in the bud before it sprouted into something uglier—but just like everything about your relationship with Chan, it was out of your hands. It was inevitable. With the wholeness that came with his presence, an emptiness was left in his absence.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s exasperated voice cut through the music, and, in turn, the thoughts swarming your head. “Stare any harder and he might just burst into flames.”

You blinked, embarrassment increasing tenfold. “Sorry, Binnie,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”

He gave you a knowing nudge. “Just go talk to him so I don’t have to look at your lovesick face anymore.”

“Not lovesick,” you protested, but the way your eyes darted right back to Chan did nothing to help your case. You found him staring at you this time, his overwhelmed beam shifting into something softer, sweeter—a look of relief. He dismissed himself from the group just as your feet were preparing, almost reflexively, to pull you in his direction. You turned to give Changbin another apologetic glance, only for him to roll his eyes and gesture for you to leave.

“I need to find Jisung, anyway,” he told you. “Talking to more than one stranger at a time probably has him looking for an escape route.”

Promising to meet up with him again later, you parted ways, a strange sense of calm washing over you as you came face to face with Chan at last. The pungent smell in the air was replaced with his fresh citrus, the clamoring sounds around you suddenly much quieter in your ears, as if waiting with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

“Hey, you,” he grinned.

“Hi, Channie,” you held out your hands, skin tingling when he rested his palms against yours. Slightly clammy from the adrenaline rush of the performance, but soft to the touch. Warm as ever.

“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you’re a shapeshifter?”

“A shapeshifter?” he giggled, more melodic than any of the music you’d heard that night.

“Those moves? The growling?” you marveled. “Even the way you carried yourself; you really know how to put on a show.”

Chan’s fingers—topped off with black nail polish, you noticed for the first time—twitched in your hands, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust his cap, tug at his ear, swipe over his nose, do something to try and alleviate his embarrassment.

“Did you like it? Or was it too much? I know this one’s your favorite, so…”

…I hope I didn’t mess it up. You could hear the words on the tip of his tongue without him even finishing. They were clear in every nervous flicker in his expression, every awkward shift in his feet.

“Are you kidding?” you rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand. “You were made for this.”

The flashing lights around you illuminated his face just in time for you to see his eyes widen. It almost made you sad—the genuine shock etched into his features.

“Ah…” he ducked his head, speechless. Suddenly, you completely understood why he’d been reluctant to ask you to attend the showcase. You should’ve known by now; Chan didn’t have to play coy to endear you, he accomplished that just fine by simply being himself.

“You really think so?” He kept his stare glued to the floor.

“Of course. Everyone else can see it, too,” you added. “I’m really proud of you, Channie.”

His cap hid his expression from your view, but you were certain that his brilliant smile was there—the one you loved so much, the one so wide that it couldn’t be contained, swelling his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Thank you,” it was meek, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. “That means a lot.”

You wanted to dip your head under the brim of his hat and meet his gaze, to let him know just how much you meant it. You wanted to kiss him, unconcerned with the people around you who might see—in fact, it only strengthened the desire, the chance to witness his cute, flustered reaction to a public display like that.

Your hesitation lasted a split second too long, however, as you spotted a fresh group of people approaching the two of you; some faces recognizable, some entirely new. You kept your smile as they made their way over with shouts and cheers, but your hand gripped Chan’s just a bit tighter.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Tonight was full of firsts for you, it seemed.

Attending a university party without leaving within the first hour, mingling with more people than you’d ever thought existed on campus, and now, as you currently were, lacking so much in self-control that you were pressed up against Chan in the venue bathroom.

You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up there, the only thing you were sure of was the slew of emotions leading into it. Chan could tell that you were antsy, and, maybe, he was feeling antsy too. The number of times you’d been separated throughout the night only to drift right back to each other was too many to count. It got to the point where the final time it happened, you’d opted for linking arms to avoid getting lost again.

You wanted to go home—you’d been more than ready to from the moment 3RACHA had finished performing—and you would’ve gladly left Chan to enjoy the rest of the event with his endless rotation of friends if it weren’t for the fact that every time you were apart for too long, he’d go looking for you. At first, you’d tried to tell him not to worry himself over whether or not you were having fun, but eventually, you realized with a flutter in your chest that it wasn’t just his usual attentiveness at play; he wanted you next to him.

When he’d asked if you wanted to retreat somewhere quieter for a bit, it had been innocent enough. You didn’t think he’d expected things to head in this direction—you certainly hadn’t. With your vigilance and his shyness, neither of you were exactly the type.

“This okay?”

“Mhm,” he breathed against your lips. The faint pounding of the bass outside could still be heard through the bathroom door, but you were much more fixated on Chan’s racing heartbeat.

“You look—mmph—so pretty tonight,” he slurred. “Been wanting to kiss you.”

His voice still had the faintest rasp to it after the strain of performing, exciting you more than it probably should’ve. “You’re so sweet,” you cooed, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth. “How do you think I felt seeing you up on that stage?”

He made a soft noise, unable to protest when you took his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking delicately and making him melt into you. His mouth fell open for you to devour freely. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly over your hips, rested on them at last. From the way his fingers constricted around your clothes, you knew he was itching to bring you closer; he always was. 

“You don’t believe me?” You pulled back just slightly, tugging at his plush skin between your teeth as you did.  He tasted sweet, even sweeter than usual. The same artificial strawberry you’d tried earlier in the night. Gently, you used your hold on his cheeks to turn his head in the direction of the mirror.

Chan’s eyes fell instantly, avoiding his reflection like second nature.

“Look at yourself, Channie,” you encouraged. “I want you to see what I see.”

A quiet whine built in his throat, but he complied nonetheless, meeting his own, timid gaze in the mirror. You let your hands slip from his cheeks to give him a clear view of his face, shifting your position so that you stood behind him, admiring the view together.

“Pretty boy,” you drawled, running your hands along his shoulders. “For someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re clueless about how bad they really want you.”

He tensed up, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “What?”

“You didn’t notice?” You tilted your head. “That's okay. It’s cute, actually.”

Your lips found his neck, breath fanning over his warm skin in a way that made goosebumps rise to the surface. Keeping your eyes locked on his reflection, you pressed a trail of kisses down his throat, doing little to hide how high your emotions were running.

“D-did something bother you?” he stuttered out, and if you hadn’t known him any better, you might’ve thought he was trying to tease you. Hearing him say it out loud nearly made you cringe at yourself. It was so trivial, so ridiculous. You didn’t want him to see that side of you—a side you’d hardly even known you had before tonight. Still, the burning sensation had grown too strong for you to ignore anymore, with each suggestive touch or longing glance thrown Chan's way serving as fuel to the fire.

“Why would I be bothered?” you said at last. “They don’t get to see you like this.” His breath hitched as you grazed your teeth along his skin. “Or hear you like this. Do they?”

“N-no,” he agreed. “Just you.”

Just you. You wondered if he’d said it knowing full well the kind of effect it would have on you.

“Do you like all the attention?”

He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes from the mirror again. It was subtle, but you could’ve sworn his hips jutted forward just a bit.

“I like your attention,” he said softly.

Another perfect answer from a perfect boy. Your hands fell from his shoulders, sliding down his body to give his waist a squeeze through the thin material of his shirt. “You deserve it,” you licked a stripe up his neck. “All of it. Who wouldn’t go crazy over you when you look like this?”

“I…” He bit his lip, no doubt to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Please, ‘m getting shy.”

You were almost tempted to grab hold of his chin and tilt his head up, giving him no choice other than to take in the breathtaking sight of himself. But judging by his bright red ears and restless squirming under your palms, he was flustered enough already—so much that you worried it may actually mortify him to face his appearance on top of your praises reverberating in his mind. Instead, you pressed more wet kisses to his neck, hands roaming further down his body and feeling up the expanse of his stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He whimpered, pushing his hips forward much more noticeably this time.

“It’ll be bad if we get caught,” you hummed. “Keep quiet, Channie.”

Chan sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his ear. You took his hoop piercing between your teeth, tugging at it in a gentle, but deliberate taunt.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You know I can't.”

You smiled deviously around the silver. “I know.”

The sound of your voice was nothing short of intoxicating, smooth and sultry and pooling heat in his abdomen at an alarmingly quick rate. Your fingers traced over the buttons of his jeans, playing with them in a tortuous dance, but not quite popping them open. The material was already starting to feel tight around him, and when you fully cupped the area without warning, his mouth fell open to spill out a shaky moan.

Your heart jumped; he was so sensitive, reduced to the flushed, noisy mess you saw before you with just a few touches and kisses. You thought back to what he’d said that night—about how it’d been a while—a small part of you wondering if that was the real reason, or if he was just always this reactive. It thrilled you like nothing else, the prospect of him being so vocal, so vulnerable to every bit of stimulation no matter how many times he’d felt it before.

“Maybe that’s what you want? For everyone to hear all these pretty sounds you make for me.”

You dragged your tongue up from his lobe, swirling it around the shell of his ear and practically tasting the heat radiating off the reddened skin. Frantically, Chan tried to mask another moan, hands gripping the sink for support.

“No—ah—just you. Only for you.”

“Only me?” You gave him a squeeze, curling your fingers around his growing bulge and making him shudder against you. “Should I make sure they know that?”

He peeked up at last from under the brim of his cap, eyes already so foggy, lips already puffed. Your mouth traveled down from his ear, pressing a kiss right to the junction of his shoulder and neck. A light hiccup escaped him when your front teeth tickled the flesh, threatening to bite down in full.

“Can I?” you checked.

Chan leaned in further so that nearly all his weight was resting against the sink, knees weakening at the mere thought of what you were going to do. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”

“It’ll show,” you warned, basking in the feel of his pulse beneath your lips.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want it to.”

Any composure you had left was no match for the desperation in his voice. He always knew exactly what to say—or, rather, anything he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, solely because it came from him. Without wasting another moment, you sank your teeth into his neck, wrapping your lips around the patch of skin to create a hot, delicious suction that nearly made Chan fold in half.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp cry escaping him despite his best efforts. You tightened your grasp on him in an attempt to keep him steady, but the added pressure to his length only seemed to make things worse. He whimpered something incoherent, hips rolling forward to grind into your palm—uncharacteristically shameless of him.

You sucked to your heart’s content, nibbling and running your tongue along the sensitive area until you were certain a mark would be left behind for days to come. When you finally released his flesh from between your teeth, Chan was all but panting, face scrunched up with pleasure and bulge twitching in your hand. You gave the mark a delicate lick, soothing the flared skin while he caught his breath.

“Mine.”

It sent a shiver down his spine. Just as you were preparing to sully a new spot on his neck, a sudden knock on the bathroom door made you both freeze in place. His body stiffened against yours, head shooting up in a panic.

“Is anyone in here?” a girl’s voice came muffled through the distant rumble of the music.

The doorknob wobbled, and you steeled yourself to respond, knowing that Chan was in absolutely no state to.

“Yeah, just a minute!” you called, throwing out the first excuse you could conjure. “My friend’s feeling a bit sick.”

Carefully, to avoid drawing out any more questionable noises from the boy, you pulled your hand away from his crotch and peeled yourself off of him. He straightened up as best he could, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. Guilt pricked at you, among other things, for allowing the situation to get to this point, but even as Chan urgently tried to adjust himself so the hardness in his pants would be less obvious, he didn’t look upset—not in the slightest. He gave you a sheepish half-smile when he met your gaze, eyes gleaming with pure, unfettered adoration.

You smoothed out your clothes, trying to ignore the very prominent ache between your legs.

“Sorry, Channie,” you murmured. “I guess I got carried away.”

His fingers brushed tentatively over the mark you’d left, cheeks matching the shade of his ears. “S’alright,” he licked his lips. “I like it.”

He had to stop saying that—for the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself that there was, in fact, some poor soul out there waiting impatiently for the restroom.

“And all the…possessive stuff I—” you paused. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“Too much?” he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t notice?”

A repeat of your question from earlier. You went quiet for a moment, trying to decode the meaning behind it. Everything that had transpired throughout the course of the evening flooded your thoughts at once: the fixed stares from across the room, the hand-holding, the arm-linking, the search for you every time you strayed too far. Butterflies fluttered to life your stomach the instant you wrapped your head around it.

“Oh.”

His giggles mixed with yours, light and timid. How very like him, to admit so openly to the exact feeling you’d been hoping to hide. Hiding with him was a fruitless endeavor, anyway.  

You rested your hand on his lower back, reaching for the handle with your other. “Look sick,” you whispered.

Chan leaned over slightly, masking both the lingering flush on his cheeks and the blossoming lovebite on his neck. On the opposite side of the door, you found none other than the event organizer standing there, watching the two of you inquisitively as you shuffled out of the bathroom. You gave her a polite dip of your head, and Chan offered a quick greeting as you ushered him along. You weren’t proud of it, but any self-consciousness you’d felt before was instantly overtaken by that selfish satisfaction.

As the two of you re-entered the fray, your hand slid down from Chan’s back, allowing him to walk normally again—or, as normally as he could when he was still very much trying to ebb the arousal you’d set off in him. He flexed his fingers as they brushed against yours, lacing them together before you could even think to pull away.

By some miracle, you managed to locate the other two thirds of 3RACHA with just a bit of sifting through the crowd. The relief was short-lived, however, alarm gripping you in its place when you noticed who was standing with them. Lee Minho.

It was no surprise that he was there, but you’d somehow managed to go the entire night without catching so much as a single glimpse of him. A part of you had been grateful for it, but the other part was also itching to see him. Ever since your conversation with Changbin, you’d become more and more ashamed about the way you’d acted with Minho in the convenience store. He’d rubbed you the wrong way, sure, but you were certain that your reaction had only made the situation worse. This was your chance to fix it, to dodge the arrow before he could finish drawing back his string.

“It’s completely different,” you heard him insist as you and Chan approached the group. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very serious debate with a very confused Jisung. “It’s like iced coffee versus hot coffee that’s been out for too long; they’re both cold, but one’s supposed to be, the other isn’t.”

Jisung blinked, lips parting and closing several times over the next few seconds. You’d never quite witnessed someone’s thought process unfolding in real time like that before. Even if you’d caught the full discussion between the two, the look on his face told you that you still wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

“I’ll be honest, man, you lost me three analogies ago.”

Minho clicked his tongue, looking ready to drop another equally convoluted explanation. Instead, he fell silent when he spotted you, the delighted smirk of someone who knew he was being difficult transforming into something much harsher, much less natural. It nearly made you wince. You’d never been particularly close with the guy, but you’d thought you were at least reaching a point where he’d grown comfortable enough to approach you with the same casualness he did with the rest of his friends. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, that the first sign of friendship sprouting between you had been trampled on for reasons that you didn’t even know, nor comprehend.

His stare flickered between you and Chan, and you prayed desperately that the dim lighting of the hall would be enough for the fresh mark you’d left on Chan’s neck to escape Minho’s scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, and your heartbeat picked up. So far, not off to a great start.

Still, you swallowed—your misgivings, and your pride—and flashed him a quick smile.

“Hi, Minho.”

No response, just a nod. Something told you that you were lucky to get even that out of him. He turned his head, planning to continue his debate with Jisung without addressing you any further, but the other boy had already been sucked into a high-energy conversation with Chan and Changbin about ways they could improve future performances.

“Can we talk?” you tried to keep your volume low, just enough for him to hear without catching the attention of the others.

He studied you with an impressive lack of interest, and for a moment, you thought he might really go the rest of the night without uttering a word around you.

“Why?”

“I just want to clear the air. I feel like we kinda had a misunderstanding the other day.”

“Maybe on your end,” he said curtly. “I understand what’s going on just fine.”

You took a breath, forcing yourself to remain open-minded. “Maybe,” you agreed. “So, could you tell me what I’m missing about all this?”

Wordlessly, he brought his cup to his lips, fixing you with unblinking eyes the entire time he drank, like you might lash out and attack him if he let his guard down for even a second. You managed to hold his gaze, but that same chill from before began to creep up your spine. It was so intense—and for what? Anyone who saw the way he was looking at you might think the two of you were involved in some kind of centuries-long blood feud between your families.

Even after he’d swallowed, he said nothing, and you felt your patience slip just a bit.

“If I’ve done something wrong, or if I’ve upset you somehow, please let me know,” you added.

“Upset me?” he hummed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

You tensed.

“When you said I wasn’t funny, it really hurt my feelings,” he announced. “Apologize with flowers and tears, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

It almost sounded like his usual manner of joking around, but your glimmer of hope was put out by that same, cold expression. You tried not to lose sight of your goal, clinging to what Changbin had told you in the cafe. He’s easy to misunderstand.

“Minho,” you began lightly. “I’m being serious here.”

His eyes glinted under the flashing lights. “So am I.”

You allowed your face to drop at last, realizing right then and there that he had no intention of even telling you what you’d done wrong—let alone giving you the chance to make amends with him.

“What, you don’t like that idea?” he feigned hurt. “Maybe you’d rather get on your hands and knees and ask for forgiveness?”

You bristled. “That’s enough.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. A look almost akin to gratification crossed his features, like a crack in your demeanor was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“Hm. Guess you’re not really sorry, after all.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, okay? Even as a joke.”

“I’d be glad not to talk to you at all,” he shot back. “But it seems you have nothing better to do than pick fights with me.”

Unbelievable. You had to stop yourself from clenching your fists, solely because of the fact your hand was still loosely clasped with Chan’s.

“Pick fights?” you repeated. “I’m trying to fix things between us!”

“There’s nothing between us to fix.”

The way he said it was strange, pointed. You were positive there was a deeper meaning to it, almost like he was implying that there was something for you to fix, just not with him. It planted an unpleasant thought in your mind—or, rather, watered the seed of an idea that was already rooted deep within it.

You’d managed to keep your voice hushed thus far to avoid causing a scene, but the building tension finally seemed to reach a tipping point, enough to catch Chan’s attention. He put his chatter with Jisung and Changbin on hold to give you a curious glance, and, as irritated as you were with Minho’s provocation, you smiled back at him.

“You alright?” he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, eyes darting momentarily in Minho’s direction. He’d turned away from you as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, going right back to talking with Jisung as if your conversation had never even happened. At least one part of what he’d said had been straightforward—he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

“You’re friends with some pretty weird people, y’know that?”

Chan grinned. “Birds of a feather.”

Your spirits lifted a bit, taking comfort in the fact that he at least seemed oblivious to the altercation that had just taken place. Still, it was a shallow relief. You knew now, with complete certainty, that Minho wasn’t going to make things easy for you.

Of course he wouldn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One month into the fall semester of your senior year, the academic distractions that you’d been longing for all summer were now upon you. Perhaps, even, a bit more intensely than you’d have liked.

Your classes were manageable enough—a significant improvement over the hellscape that was Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—but the amount of time and effort your research lab demanded more than made up for what might’ve been an easy final term. When you weren’t attending your lectures or completing assignments, you were practically living in the astrophysics lab; analyzing spectroscopic measurements, reconstructing images from interferometric data, observing optical maps of the interstellar medium, and, on top of all that, sitting through countless meetings with your team.

It was as fulfilling as it was exhausting, and though you were more than happy to finally get some hands-on experience in your field of study, you couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about this new routine as well. Your Experimental Physics II section with Changbin only took place once a week as opposed to the biweekly Thermodynamics lectures, and that, coupled with the lack of study sessions and your limited free time meant you were seeing him much less often than before. It was even worse in the cases of Chan and Iseul, both of which you rarely saw on campus to begin with. Even with Iseul more or less still treating your apartment as her second home, and Chan being his usual, relentlessly considerate self—never going too long without checking in on you—they were both busy with their respective capstone projects as well, leaving your interactions fewer and further between in comparison to the spring.

You knew it wasn’t rational, but it almost frightened you how such minor shifts in your daily life could feel so jarring, especially when graduation, the greatest shift of all, was looming on the horizon. The sands of time were trickling along without a care in the world, changing things little by little until they were unrecognizable. Some for the better, some for worse.

You’d thought you were handling the gaps in your time spent with Chan fairly well; that was, until it dawned on you halfway through September just how often your mind would drift to him while working on your research. Every new set of spectral line data or roAp star photometric variations had you visualizing what his reactions might be—his gleaming eyes that captivated you more than any of the stars you were observing, his voice growing shaky with excitement as he tried to discuss your observations without pausing every few seconds just to gush about how cool it all was.

You weren’t pleased with the number of instances your lab partners had caught you grinning to yourself in the middle of running tests and collecting data, giddy over the mere thought of his presence. As it turned out, Changbin hadn’t been too far off when he’d labeled you as lovesick.

Summoned by your thoughts, your phone vibrated against your desk to signal a text from none other than Changbin. You placed down your pencil in defeat, accepting the fact that you weren’t going to be getting any work done at this rate—daydreaming about how often you were daydreaming about Chan should’ve been indication enough.

bin 😑 (2:03 p.m.) number 5???

You blinked at your screen, dumbfounded.

bin 😑 (2:04 p.m.) number 5 pls pretty pls

you (2:04 p.m.) i sent you number 5 yesterday?

bin 😑 (2:06 p.m.) oh ;;; number 6 pls~~~

you (2:06 p.m.) i think i deserve an honorable mention on ur diploma

bin 😑 (2:07 p.m.) get me thru this hmwk and i’ll make it happen one for you and one for chan ><

The thought of it nearly made you laugh out loud: Changbin, trying to charm his way through the dean’s office to make a proposal as ridiculous as that. You didn’t doubt that he might try it, or that he might actually succeed in doing so.

Shuffling through your papers, you snapped a picture of your assignment, barely managing to fit the entirety of the required work in one shot.

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) thank uuu oh speaking of chan lol u know he’s sick?

you (2:10 p.m.) what???

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) i knew it he didn’t tell you -_-

You felt a pang of worry, countless questions filling your head at once. It’d been a day or two since you’d contacted Chan, even longer since you’d seen him in person—definitely over a week by now. The last time you’d talked hadn’t been over a phone call like usual; you’d texted him just to see how he was doing, and after a short chat he’d promised to meet up with you sometime the next week. It had been unusual, but not unusual enough for you to overthink it, especially considering how swamped the both of you were.

you (2:12 p.m.) how long has he been sick for?

bin 😑 (2:13 p.m.) couple days? actually more like a week now

Worry twisted into a sense of dread. Why hadn’t he told you?

You didn’t have to question it for long. You knew why—anyone who knew Chan well enough could piece it together with ease.

bin 😑 (2:14 p.m.) he hasn’t gone to class for a few days ㅜ you should visit him if you can

you (2:14 p.m.) yeah, i definitely will thanks for letting me know binnie

If your homework had been an afterthought before, it was long forgotten now. You didn’t bother to clean up your workspace before rising from your chair, leaving the scattered notes and eraser shavings for you to deal with later.

You weren’t sure what you were experiencing as you made your way over to your kitchen, digging around for ginger and garlic and praying that you’d have enough. It was an overreaction, probably, but you berated yourself regardless; for not noticing that something was wrong, for not pressing harder when asking how he’d been, for not questioning the longer periods of time you’d gone without talking. You’d wanted to give him his space, but for it to go as far as him thinking he shouldn’t tell you that he was sick—sick to the point where he couldn’t attend class, stirred something awful in you.

The pot nearly slipped from your hands in all your haste to prepare your materials, and you took a breath, forcing yourself to relax before you set fire to your apartment. Still, the concern, the guilt, didn’t die down. You were so accustomed to being in-tune with every aspect of your relationships, be it friends, family, or romantic partners, making note of every little detail, every subtle shift; sometimes before they themselves could even realize it. But for what was neither the first nor the last time, you had to remind yourself that this was Chan you were dealing with. Of course he wouldn’t tell you—he wouldn’t tell you anything that he believed might cause you even the slightest inconvenience. He would do whatever it took, go to any lengths imaginable, just to avoid committing the unforgivable sin of letting you care about him. It was the complete opposite of everything you'd come to understand about the world, the people around you, and it put you in a position that you weren’t sure you wanted to be in.

You weren’t going to stand idly by, watching him board his openings shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what was inside, watching him burden himself with the fear of burdening others. Whatever had happened in the past for him to reach that point, you wanted to suck it out like poison until there wasn’t a single drop left in his system. You were going to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

His face was the last thing you’d expected to see when the door to unit 8-325 swung open.

Realistically, it shouldn’t have been. He did live there, after all. Like the annoying troll under the bridge that wouldn’t let you pass unless you answered his riddles three. It took everything in you not to make a face as you were met with Minho standing in the doorframe. He, of course, didn’t extend that same courtesy to you, eyes narrowing into an unmistakable grimace when he laid them on you.

“What do you want?”

“Hi to you, too,” you muttered.

His expression didn’t change, and, much to your disdain, you once again found yourself mesmerized by that gaze of his. You hated how effective it was; unreadable, yet communicating a thousand things all at once. Even if he really was as harmless as Changbin claimed, even if his cold glares and cutting comments were the extent of what he could do to you, your skin crawled all the same.

When you saw that he wasn’t planning on dignifying you with a response, you inched forward, expecting to be let inside. That would simply be too easy, though. Minho shifted so that his body blocked your path, pulling the door closer to him for good measure.

“Chan’s sick,” he deadpanned.

You paused, blown away for a moment by his audacity. “I know he’s sick,” you gritted your teeth. “I’m here to check on him.”

You might’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips start to twitch, but you tore your eyes away too quickly to be certain. The last thing this man needed was whatever kind of ego boost he’d get from you paying a little too much attention to his features.

“Not much you can do,” he dismissed, voice light and airy as ever. “Unless you think gracing him with your presence is gonna make him all better.”

It was your turn to shoot Minho a glare, foot darting out just in time to prevent him from shutting the door in your face. Wordlessly, you lifted the container of galbitang into his view.

He raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to a genuine reaction you could get from him. “Changed your major to the medical route?”

“I don’t see you doing anything to help him,” you snapped.

Your patience was already minimal when it came to this guy, but ever since you’d confronted him at the event in August, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to run it as thin as possible every time you interacted with him. It was kind of impressive, really, the way he knew exactly how to push every last one of your buttons with ease.

Fresh out of half-assed excuses, Minho shrugged, as if he’d never even cared in the first place. He let go of the door handle, and you took that as a sign to push past him and slip inside.

You removed your shoes as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another second around him if you could help it. Knowing that Changbin wasn’t home, you stalked past the kitchen and through the living room, the soothing scent of freshly-brewed yuja tea flooding your nostrils as you did. It almost made you feel bad about what you’d said to Minho, but you knew better than to apologize for it now—if you’d come to learn anything, it was that your peace offerings would be met with even more hostility than your provocation. Instead, you padded down the hallway, heading straight for Chan’s room.

Careful not to lose your grip on the container in your hands, you managed to give his door a light knock. A few seconds passed before you heard a faint “come in”, muffled by the sound of what was sure to be a pile of blankets. You braced yourself, recovering from your Minho-induced rise in blood pressure, then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind you.

Chan blinked his eyes open just in time to see you approaching his bed. They were foggy, even more exhausted than usual, and they widened slightly when he registered who was standing before him.

“Hi, Channie,” you whispered. “Were you sleeping?”

“N-no, I—” his voice came strained and hoarse, so different from his pleasant, melodic lilt that you had trouble believing it was really him speaking for a second. “I was already awake.”

You rolled his desk chair over to the side of the bed, placing your container of galbitang on his nightstand next to the half-finished cup of tea and army of empty water bottles. He watched, stunned, as you sat down next to him, still trying to process what was going on.

“Um…how did you—?”

“Seo Changbin,” you hummed.

A weak smile formed on his face. “Bin…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” he croaked, not sounding alright at all. “Guess when you told me to look sick I took it a little too seriously, yeah?”

You let out a light giggle, and he tried to join you, only to spiral right into a violent coughing fit instead. It made your heart twist with sympathy, and you reached out to brush back his messy curls, resting your palm on his forehead. His skin was burning, and not in its normal way—if you could even call the amount of body heat he carried with him normal. It was heavy and sticky and pulsing, like you could physically feel the ache plaguing his head.

“Ah, wait,” he warned. “You shouldn’t touch me, you’ll catch it.”

I don’t care. You almost wanted to say it without restraint, but you settled for something more tactful, something less pointlessly dramatic. “You wouldn’t get me sick, would you?”

He flashed you another feeble smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he rasped, shrinking into the covers so that his face was only half visible.

“Please don’t apologize, Channie,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I just wish you’d told me. How long have you been sick?”

The feeling seemed to relax him, weary eyes drooping just a bit as your nails grazed his scalp. “It’s only been like this for a few days,” he hesitated. “But I first started feeling it last week. Minho thinks it’s the flu.”

You stopped combing through his hair, letting your hand simply rest atop his head. He seemed to sense your disapproval, eyes peeking up at you from beneath the comforter to meet your frowning face.

“It’s not that bad, though,” he tried to assure you. “Just a cough and some headaches.”

“Bin said you haven’t been able to go to class.”

Chan sucked in through his teeth; caught. You sent out a silent apology to Changbin, realizing a split second too late that you’d probably set him up for a scolding as soon as Chan could speak without sounding like he had gravel in his throat.

“I just didn’t want you to worry,” he explained sheepishly. “Especially when you’ve been so busy.”

“I’m always thinking of you, anyway,” you countered, only half-joking. “So, please don’t hide stuff like this from me, okay? That’ll only make me worry more.”

For a moment, he stayed silent, and you got the feeling that your words hadn’t quite gotten through to him. Regardless, he eventually gave you a tiny nod.

“Promise?” you pressed.

“Promise.”

He didn’t hold out his pinky this time to seal the deal, but you chose not to dwell on it considering the fact that his hands were buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Instead, you gave his head one last pat and reached for the thermos on the nightstand.

“Can you eat?”

His face lit up at the sight of the galbitang. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I haven’t eaten yet today, actually.”

You frowned, biting back an exasperated comment. Even if his horribly skewed priorities frustrated you more than anything else—touching a part of you buried so deep within that you yourself couldn’t fully grasp it—you’d visited Chan with the intent of helping him, not lecturing him. There was no changing the outcome now, anyway. All you could do was try and make things a little easier for him, to balance out his determination to create new obstacles for himself as quickly as you could break them down.

“It should still be warm, but I can go heat it up if you’d like?” you were reluctant to ask, not keen on the possibility of seeing Minho again.

“No, no, s’alright,” he shuffled around in the sheets, trying to sit himself upright against the pillows. “I’ll eat it like this.”

As soon as his protective pile of covers slipped down his torso, he was shuddering. Even with the hoodie he was wearing, chills passed through his entire body, so strong that you could visibly see how his shoulders shook.

“Oh my God, Channie,” your voice softened to a tone that he’d only ever heard you use with him, one that soothed his pounding head. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”

He attempted to say something in response—to deny it despite every cell in his body screaming otherwise—but between his sniffles and chattering teeth, it was hard to make out. You reached out with your free hand and pulled the covers back up his chest, draping them over his shoulders so that just his head and neck were exposed. Chan blinked at you, the confusion on his face morphing into subtle panic when he understood what you were planning.

“Ah…you don’t,” he coughed. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” You unscrewed the lid and unlatched the spoon from its side. “I want to, actually. If it’s okay with you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you—the flush that crept up on his cheeks, even more visible than usual with how little color there was to his sickly complexion.

“Okay,” he averted his eyes. “Yeah, thank you.”

You scooped up a portion of the soup, making sure to gather a good mix of ingredients for him, then brought it up to his lips. He blew out puffs of air a few times before taking the spoon into his mouth, still refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite his awkwardness, a cute hum followed. “This is really good.”

“That’s how I know you’re sick.”

He giggled gently, careful not to set off another coughing fit. “No, I mean it,” he licked his lips. “I can taste the flavor, even though my nose is all stuffy.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, dipping the spoon back into the container. “I kinda made it in a rush, so I hoped it’d at least be edible.”

Chan finally looked up, fixing you with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, just as you brought another portion up to his lips.

“The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself,” you said firmly.

A comfortable silence filled the room, with nothing but the sound of Chan’s slurping and wheezy breaths breaking it. Though the bashfulness was still there—it always was—he gradually came to relax the more you fed him, slumping his shoulders and letting out those content, satisfied noises that you’d come to love so much after each hot spoonful. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made your heart feel strangely full, the ripples of worry fading out until it was calm and clear. He was being cared for, looked after; even if for just a moment. You decided right then and there that it was the only thing you’d ever ask of him—to dare to let you treat him with an ounce of the kindness he showed everyone but himself.

The steam, garlic, and ginger seemed to do their job in clearing up his sinuses a bit, as his sniffling grew more and more frequent until it was obvious he was having a hard time containing it. He had to refrain from ducking his head, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him as you plucked a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his nose clean. Still, he thanked you quietly, sinking further into the pillows.

“Is there anything else I can do?” you sealed the now-empty container shut. “I can pick up any missing work for you tomorrow, if that helps.”

Chan’s eyes were half-lidded now, his weariness finally starting to catch up to him. “Nah, don’t trouble yourself. Most of my stuff is on my laptop, anyway.”

For the first time, you noticed the device amidst the blankets and sheets, teetering on the edge of his mattress in a way that made your adrenaline spike considering it was the precious amalgamation of all his blood, sweat, and tears since he’d entered university.

“Have you been working, even now?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I think staring at a screen just made my head feel worse. Gonna try again later.”

Before you could say anything else, he changed the subject, like he knew you’d advise against it the instant the words left his mouth.

“But how’s your work? Is the lab going okay?”

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips. You might not have let him get away with it if he hadn’t asked about the exact thing you’d been dying to share with him since the last time you’d met up. Maybe that was what he needed, anyway—something to cheer him up and take his mind off the perpetual ache consuming his body.

“I’m observing a pair of binary stars right now.”

He perked up against the pillows, lifting his head so quickly that it actually earned a light hiss of pain. Still, his face broke out into a smile, exactly the way you’d dreamed of when you’d first analyzed the spectral lines.

“What kind?”

“Spectroscopic.”

His dimples appeared for the first time that day. “The closest pair!” he chirped. “That’s amazing, I wish I could see it.”

“I can show you their Doppler shifts as the next best thing,” you offered. “They’re so close even the telescopes can’t separate them. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Super romantic,” he beamed, eyes twinkling through the glaze of illness. That familiar warmth spread through your skin—just by looking at him, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. “Orbiting so close and so fast…you think they’ll change each other’s evolution?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

Like in the case of most binary pairs, one star burned brighter than the other—just the slightest bit. Even if the difference in them was miniscule, you had no doubt in your mind which of the two was Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Space talk could only mitigate the effects of the flu for so long. Chan’s half-lidded eyes eventually drooped all the way shut, his raspy but enthusiastic chatter dying down into barely-responsive mumbles, then, finally, soft, steady snores. It took everything in you not to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, already accumulating beads of sweat as his fever began to break. Even after all your recklessness in getting so close to him while he was sick, you figured that would be pushing your luck a bit too far. Instead, you ensured he had enough water for when he’d inevitably wake up parched, adjusted his pillows so that his head was properly elevated, and tidied up the mess on his nightstand as best you could.

Carefully, you tiptoed out of his room, taking one last look at his sleeping face before shutting the door.

As you entered the living room from the hall, you found Minho seated on the couch; presumably hard at work, judging by the way he was hunched over his laptop, typing up a storm with computer glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t even spare you a glance when you passed him to toss the empty bottles in the recycling bin. You’d long learned to keep quiet around him to avoid setting off yet another tirade of petty insults and icy scowls, and you would’ve gladly gone without a word if the memory of your earlier accusation wasn’t nagging away at you. That, and, maybe the affection that had bubbled up inside you upon seeing Chan had let down your guard a bit.

Against your better judgment, you mustered up the will to say it. “Thanks for looking after him.”

Minho’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Obviously,” you replied evenly. “I just mean I’m glad he has you.”

You were prepared to leave it at that, both to let him resume his work, and avoid the claws that were sure to come out if you kept pressing the matter. To your surprise, however, he piped up again just as you began making your way over to the door.

“If you’re expecting me to say the same about you, don’t hold your breath.”

You told yourself to ignore it, but with just a few words, he’d effectively frosted over all the warmth that Chan had kindled in your chest. Something snapped in you, making you spin on your heels before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Minho’s eyes flickered up at last, widening for only a split second before they narrowed again.

“That’s no way to talk to someone in their home,” he clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d kick you out.”

You held your ground, refusing to feel embarrassed about your outburst no matter how much he provoked you.

“Answer me.”

Minho rose from the couch with a sigh, making it no secret what an inconvenience he found you to be, what an utter waste of his time it was to even address you.

“What makes you think I have a problem?”

You let out a bitter laugh. The absolute gall of this man.

“Don’t play dumb with me, okay? Changbin told me this is just what you’re like, but I haven't seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me.”

Minho was closer now, still a few feet away, but near enough to put you on high alert. He looked so unrecognizable these days, you’d forgotten what it’d ever felt like to be comfortable around him, to be in the same room without that unease spreading through your skin.

“You think you’re special?” he sneered. “Do your ego a favor and listen to Changbin.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he carried on, still managing to sound so carefree despite the venom in his words.

“Unless, of course, you’re the only one allowed to give orders here.”

You froze.

“What?”

“Hit a nerve?”

“What are you talking about?” You had to contain yourself, solely for the meager hope that maybe, just maybe, you might get a clear answer from him for once.

“I’ve seen your type before, too many times,” he spat. “Chan just can’t seem to break that ugly habit—falling for people who only know how to take advantage of him.”

You bristled, so enraged that you couldn’t even think to answer. All that filled your head was red, hot anger, defiance, and, buried beneath all that, fear.

Anger that he had the audacity to speak to you that way. That he’d passed such a cruel and absurd judgment without so much as bothering to get to know you first. Defiance that he thought he had you all figured out when he didn’t even know the half of it—of what Chan meant to you, of what you’d been through, of the people who had chewed you up and spit you out just like he was implying you liked to do.

Fear that he was right. Fear that someone else was capable of having those thoughts about you, that they weren’t just your own baseless inhibitions. The lingering effects of what he had planted in your mind, never quite uprooted.

“My type,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Is just as capable of being taken advantage of.”

Minho crossed his arms, stare unbreaking as if inviting you to continue—to prove yourself to him. The thought alone made your stomach churn.

“You’re not as smart as you think,” you hissed. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and whatever happens between Chan and I is none of your business.”

He sniffed, unimpressed. “When you hurt him, it will be.”

He said it with so much certainty, so much confidence, you nearly believed it yourself. You clenched your fists, mustering all your strength to control the irrational amounts of rage bubbling up inside you. You thought of Chan, asleep in the other room amidst his nest of sweaty blankets and tissues, fighting off the flu on top of everything else he had resting on his shoulders. You thought of his exhausted face, paler than usual, and his cracked voice, still trying to reassure you even when he was in such a miserable state.

You took a deep breath, and you softened.

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

Minho said nothing. Maybe he thought it was too easy to counter, maybe he thought it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Either way, you were done trying to make sense of him—done trying to defend yourself in front of someone who had long decided you were guilty.

So, he hated you. You could probably live with that. You didn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of him either.

You turned around, making a beeline for the door and slipping your shoes back on as calmly as you could. But, of course, it wasn’t over quite yet. Ending things on your terms, where you got the last say, wasn’t an option when it came to Minho.

“Running away from the fight you started again?” he called lazily. “This is getting boring.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Iseul’s sigh rang out through your apartment, so loud and so exaggerated this time that you couldn’t in good conscience brush it off. Half-amused by her transparency, you paused the show on your television, turning to give her a questioning look.

“Something wrong?”

“Look at that!” She gestured aggressively at the screen, where the male lead, soaked and forlorn with a bouquet of flowers in hand, was waiting in the pouring rain outside of his love interest’s home. “Where do I find someone like that, huh?”

You giggled, only to realize with a start that she was being dead serious. She pouted at you, and you cleared your throat, rushing to correct yourself.

“Are you still having problems wi—?”

“Yes,” she interjected, as if exasperated that it’d taken you this long to notice. “We had an argument earlier today. He called me needy, can you fucking believe that?”

You let out a hum of disapproval; you’d never really gotten a good vibe from this guy from the start, especially as Iseul’s boyfriend. He was far too emotionally unavailable for someone as expressive and sensitive as her.

“Why would he say that?”

“He’s just a dick. All I did was ask him to help me practice my marketing presentation—y’know, since you didn’t have the time to,” she added. You guessed it was probably just her frustration speaking, but something about the way she said it seemed off, like you were partially at fault for not being there to help her in the first place. “Then, after like two tries, he gets all annoyed with me saying I’m being way too nitpicky and wasting his time.”

You knew better than anyone how high-strung Iseul could be when it came to academics; it was the trait in her that had initially sparked your friendship, after all. She could be demanding, sure, but it was only because she cared so much about performing well. Being there for her any chance you got wasn’t even a matter of debate for you—it was the bare minimum, whether for a friend, or a significant other.

“Anyway, I’m still waiting on him to apologize,” she huffed. “I’m not the crazy one here, right? Like, do you think he has a point?”

“You’re not crazy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to approach the matter with caution. “I think you just have high expectations for people.”

“But that’s not a bad thing!”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “As long as you treat them with the same consideration.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I could literally be the best girlfriend ever if he’d just let me. He literally never appreciates the things I do for him.”

“Maybe you just have different ways of showing your care for each other?” you suggested. “You can try bringing it up next time you talk.”

Iseul groaned, dragging her hands down her face, as if the thought of urging him to have a mature, emotionally open conversation with her caused physical pain. “I guess. If he ever even bothers to text me again.”

“How long has it been?”

She looked away, uncharacteristically meek. “A few hours.”

“He usually takes that long anyway, right?” you reasoned. “He’ll definitely come around, try not to stress too much about it.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m sick of thinking about it. How are things with Chan?”

It was the only detail of your life she ever really asked you about lately. You didn’t mind most of the time—you were more than happy to talk about him over other, significantly less pleasant things, but in this case, you felt a twinge of discomfort. You hated that the first thing that came to mind wasn’t Chan’s crinkled eye smile, but rather, Minho’s relentless death glare. The thought was unnerving enough for you to consider bringing it up with Iseul, just as a way to get an outside opinion from someone who wasn’t Changbin or Chan. Unlike them, Iseul didn’t know Minho at all, and you liked to think she was blunt enough to tell you objectively if you were in the wrong.  

“Pretty good,” you hesitated. “Well, there is something—”

“I’m sure they’re more than just good,” she interrupted again. “All you ever do is hang out with him these days.”

You flashed her a grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to entertain myself with once you’ve settled down?”

You were met with another huff. She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing in a way that immediately told you she wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Doesn’t mean you have to ditch me now that you’ve got yourself a boytoy.”

“C’mon, Iseul,” you tried to keep your tone light. “You practically live here.”

She picked at her fingernails in silence, and you felt yourself start to panic a bit, suddenly taking the implication that you’d been neglecting your friendship much more seriously. You hadn’t noticed a difference, save for how much busier your schedules were this semester—but that was inevitable given how hectic senior year was for everyone. As much as Chan consumed your thoughts (something Iseul was better off not knowing) you barely saw him more often than her; in fact, given everything he was constantly juggling at once, you probably saw him less.

“What are you always so busy with, then?” she questioned at last, the slightest bit accusatory.

“The same as you. Classes and my senior research.”

You couldn’t decipher why she looked so unconvinced by the explanation, like the idea of you being preoccupied with your own personal matters was somehow incomprehensible to her. She shifted around in her spot, clearly set on the idea that there had to be more to it than that.

“Fine,” she turned her head back to the television, still frozen on that same, pitiful frame from the drama. “I still need someone to help me practice though, and I’m definitely not asking him again. So, it’s gotta be you.”

“Sure,” you replied. “I can definitely find time.”

You wanted to believe that she was just in a foul mood because of the fight with her boyfriend—and maybe that really was the whole of it. Surely, she wouldn’t dismiss the past two years you’d spent helping and supporting her the very instant you had to focus on yourself for a bit.

Even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help but wonder for the first time if the scale between you and her was more out of balance than you thought.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October had arrived at last, bringing with it a pleasant chill in the air, early tints of orange on the trees, and a fresh wave of midterm exams. Most importantly, it brought Chan’s birthday. He’d recovered from the flu a mere few days before the third of the month, and you’d never been more grateful for the sight of his radiant smile and rosy cheeks, full of so much life that he energized not just himself, but everyone around him as well.

His birthday fell on a Tuesday, not exactly the most ideal time for a celebration between Experimental Physics II and The Life and Death of Stars, but you’d been determined to make it work. You would’ve made anything work if it meant getting to spend even an hour with him on the day where he was, for once, the center of the universe. A small get-together had been planned later in the evening at his apartment—actually a small get-together this time, as promised so seriously by Changbin—but you’d come up with an excuse to skip out on it. No matter how hard you wished it didn’t bother you, the idea of being under the same roof as Minho again had been all the reason you needed to keep away. You had no doubt in your mind that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel unwelcome, and you didn’t trust yourself to remain collected around the guy after he’d proven time and time again how talented he was when it came to riling you up.

The last thing you’d wanted was to cause a scene on Chan’s birthday; it wasn’t even worth risking. If you put a damper on his happiness simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting with his best friend like two feral street cats each time you crossed paths, you’d never forgive yourself. Instead, you’d met up with him for lunch and pastries earlier in the day, with the perfect excuse to cover all the expenses for it—much to your delight, and much to his dismay. Even if you were a bit wistful about missing out on the real celebration later, Chan’s beaming face when he’d opened your gift, the best external hard drive you could afford, had more than made up for it.

It’d been a week since then, another week where you and Chan barely found the chance to lift your heads from the sea of work to check in on each other. You knew that he was especially overwhelmed. His sickness couldn’t have come at a worse time, leaving him playing catch up with all his missed assignments and lectures on top of the stress of midterms.

Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping against each other as you debated whether or not to send him a message. As if on cue, it lit up with a notification that made your breath catch.

channie 🐺 (1:03 a.m.) you awake?

you (1:03 a.m.) yeah hi channie

There was a delay before he texted again, three little dots appearing and disappearing below your chat bubble more than once, like he was repeatedly typing and deleting what he wanted to say.

channie 🐺 (1:07 a.m.) can i call you?

The question felt strange, unlike him. You’d grown accustomed to expecting his calls the very instant he’d find out you were available—more often than not, without any warning at all.

you (1:07 a.m.) do you even have to ask?

channie 🐺 (1:09 a.m.) i should probably start haha sorry

You frowned. Something was definitely off.

you (1:09 a.m.) nooo that’s not what i meant  ur calls are the best surprise

Another minute passed without a response, and you began to worry that you’d actually upset him. Then, your screen lit up again, this time to signal his incoming call.

He didn’t greet you immediately after you picked up like he typically did. You registered the subtle sound of whirring on the other end of the line, like a breeze was billowing through his phone speaker.

“Chan?”

“Hi,” he sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”

“I was about to check on you, actually,” you confessed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your heart fluttered, but it didn’t fully ebb the worry piling up inside you. “I missed you,” you murmured. “Starting to think dropping out isn’t such a bad idea.”

He chuckled—light, barely there. It was gone as soon as it came, as if not to overstay its welcome. The distant sound of a car engine met your ears, distracting you from what you’d planned to say next.

“Are you on your balcony?”

“Taking a walk,” he replied.

You blinked. “At this hour?”

“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”

For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. You’d never heard him sound like this before. Blunt, sullen, defeated. A part of you, the hypervigilant part, wondered if he simply wasn’t in the mood to talk—but then, why would he have even asked to call you?

“Oh no,” you made a soft noise of sympathy. There was a pause as you mulled over how to approach it; whether to nag him not to get his adrenaline rushing so late, to offer words of comfort for whatever seemed to be bothering him, or to pretend like everything was okay, just to take his mind off of it. You didn’t want to keep pressing after you’d already asked once, but something was very clearly wrong; so wrong that Chan himself was making little effort to hide it.

“Do you want to look at the moon?”

A deep inhale. “Yeah.”

Wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder, you pulled up the blinds of your bedroom window and pushed it open, allowing the cool, October air to waft through your senses and drift over your skin. The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, a thin, delicate slice of light illuminating the clear sky. You tried to picture Chan on the other end, the wonder in his tired eyes, the slope of his nose tilted upwards as he admired it like it was the first time it’d ever graced the night.

“Are you looking?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’ll be a new moon soon.”

“Yeah,” he said again.

A silence stretched across the call, not quite uncomfortable, but not quite serene, either. Even from afar, you could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head like they were your own, disturbing any peace the view might usually wash over him. His breathing, at least, steadied, and you guessed he’d stopped walking to get a proper look at the sky.

The two of you stayed that way for some time, long enough for you to start filling the gaps with his absentminded humming and sweet vocalizations. There was none of that today; just silence.

Then, you heard it. Faint, muffled, like he’d turned away from his phone to avoid letting you catch it: a sniffle.

“Channie,” you whispered. “Are you really okay?”

“Just my leftover cold, don’t worry.”

You kept quiet. You both knew he’d fully recovered well over a week ago.

“Sorry,” he said weakly. “Can I come over?”

“Right now?” You glanced at the time. It was already nearing 2:00 a.m., you didn’t want him to make such a long walk this late, especially not in his current condition. “Why don’t I come meet you?”

“No, no, ‘s alright.”

“Well, of course you can come. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended. It left you feeling heavy with unease, an emotion you’d never once associated with Chan. As foreign as it was, it made you all the more determined to be there for him, to take on some of the weight he carried everywhere he went before his knees completely buckled underneath him. In your eyes, he was just like the moon he loved so much—always shining down on you with the brightest side of him, and never allowing you to see the other. You wanted to break the tidal lock and see the dark side of the moon. To uncover all the hidden craters and basins and accept them as a part of him.

Not even ten minutes had passed before you heard a knock at your door, far too soon for him to have arrived by foot. It made you realize, with another tug at your heart, that he must’ve already been on his way to your apartment when he’d first called.

When you swung open the door, there was a short lapse before his smile came, strained, but relieved. His hair was tousled from the wind, eyes outlined with dark circles, and black jacket unzipped. It hung loosely off his shoulder, and when you pulled him into a hug, you could feel the chill from the outside air lingering on his skin. Even so, his persistent warmth still seeped through; it always did.

Neither of you said anything as you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other room. You settled down next to him on the edge of your bed, facing the window where the moon was still watching over you. Chan kept his eyes firmly locked on it, but his fingers brushed tentatively against yours, tracing the lines of your fingerprints and palms as if to commit them to memory.

“Sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You could never bother me,” you said simply.

It was so immediate, so natural, it had him taken aback for a moment. He sucked in through his teeth, well aware of your gaze studying his side profile with growing concern.

“At the showcase,” he mumbled. “Did you really mean what you said?”

The question could’ve been in reference to anything, but somehow, that was all he needed to ask for you to know exactly what he was talking about.

“Of course.”

Memories of him up on that stage flooded your mind. His charisma, his passion, his belief in Changbin and Jisung and, for a fleeting moment, himself. Just thinking about it was enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin.

“When I saw you performing, all I could think about was how much you belonged up there.”

Chan’s breath hitched. At last, he turned his head to face you, that same look from the night of the party—the one that troubled you for reasons you couldn’t explain—crossing his features again. Hopeful eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, any shadow of a doubt, only to find nothing but raw affection.

He leaned in suddenly, brushing his nose against yours in a wordless plea, and you closed the space between you. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the crisp autumn air, but their plushness was never lost, consuming your senses with that soft, irresistible quality you could never get enough of. He melded seamlessly into you, filling every gap and crevice, pulling you further in like waves lapping at a shore.

Chan turned slightly on the bed, angling his body to bring himself closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours. For such a simple touch, it made him sigh sweetly into you, lips parting to add a new degree of heat to it all. His fingers flexed in your hand, and you used the other to cup his face, holding him steady as he moved his mouth with increasing urgency. Cute, tiny sounds built up in his throat each time your tongue slid against his, growing louder and louder until he was all but whimpering into your mouth.

His desire, normally thinly-veiled by a layer of timidity, was on full display tonight—not quite pushy, rather, begging with every pucker of his lips and graze of his teeth for you to take things a step further, to let him fall completely into you. It was a lack of restraint you often had to build into, to guide him there yourself. You kept telling yourself to get a grip, to break the kiss and check on the boy who, just minutes ago, appeared to be on the verge of falling apart; but it was fruitless to even think about ridding yourself of a sensation so addictive. His free hand reached for your waist, hesitant as ever to grab on as tight as he needed to. Instead, he took your shirt between his fingers, playing with the fabric in a way that, strangely enough, was even more exhilarating.

The sounds spilling out of Chan became muddled together, and it took you a few seconds to realize that he was trying to say something to you.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, please.”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, unlocking your lips from his at last. “What is it, baby?”

“Need you,” his breath was shaky, lungs aching from the intensity of the kiss. “Can I make you feel good? Please, let me this time.”

You paused, pulling away to get a proper look at him. “Are you sure?” you frowned. “You don’t look well, Channie. Why don’t we talk?”

“N-no, ‘m okay. Just really need you right now.”

His gaze flickered down to the spot between your thighs, and he swallowed. It affected you more than you wanted to admit—the pure want in his eyes for something so selfless.

“I’ll be good,” he promised. “However you want it, I’ll do it. Please.”

You scanned his face a few moments longer, trying to put aside the arousal spreading through you at an alarming rate, just long enough to get a read on him. Your concerns were still very much there, but the look on his face told you that he wanted—needed this even more than you did.

Gently, you squeezed his hand one last time before unlacing your fingers. “Alright...if that’s what you want.”

Chan watched, mesmerized, as you repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your back against your pillows and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to tug them off.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll do well. Promise.”

It nearly made you coo out loud. All this just to please you, just to satisfy desires that, unbeknownst to him, were already fulfilled just by being with him. Still, you knew Chan well enough to understand that it wouldn’t sit right in his mind until he gave you everything he had to offer. He’d give you his all if only you would let him.

Even as you slipped off your underwear, he stayed put, unmoving until you gestured for him to come over. He licked his lips, eyes shining in the low light when you spread your legs at last. Your heartbeat picked up as he settled between them, suddenly so close that you could feel each shaky breath of his tickling your sensitive skin. Tentatively, he placed his hands on your thighs, glancing up at you to ensure that it was really okay. You gave him an encouraging nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak when the only thing you could focus on was how dangerously close his mouth—his perfect mouth—was to your most intimate spot.

With your permission granted, he began pressing kisses to your inner thigh. They started off with that same shyness you knew, careful and reserved, but quickly became less and less controlled the more his mouth roamed. His lips were smoother now, wet and glossy, and they sent tiny jolts through your senses each time they came in contact with your skin. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought he was purposely trying to tease you, giving hints of what he could make you feel without diving in fully just yet. But the way he kneaded your flesh with the pads of his fingers, a low, desperate noise bubbling up inside him, said otherwise. He was appreciating every bit of you, basking in the moment, as if he may never get the chance to have his head between your legs again.

His sloppy kisses drew closer and closer to your heat, and when his lips came to hover over it at last, you had to stop yourself from pushing against his face right then and there. Delicately, his tongue slid out to glide from your entrance right up to your clit, ending it with a gentle flick that sent a shiver down your spine. He repeated the action almost immediately, a sweet hum escaping him as your arousal flooded his tastebuds.

Your hand fell down to his head, gripping his curls in a way that made his own pleasure spike, if the sudden whine he let out was any indication. He continued licking away, each intoxicating lap of his tongue growing more confident and making you ask yourself just why on earth you’d ever deprived yourself of such a feeling. It satiated a need that you hadn’t even known was there to begin with, twisted the muscles in your core with both tension and relief. If it’d been a while since he’d used his mouth like this, it certainly didn’t show.

“Am I…” he slurred. “Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you assured him. “My sweet boy, using that pretty mouth for me. Making me feel so good.”

Your praises earned a moan from him, so loud you’d think he was the one experiencing the hot, delicious rhythm of his tongue. The sound vibrated against your folds, making your toes curl and your nails dig further into his scalp.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you giggled breathlessly.

“Mm. Just wanna—mmph—please you,” he managed between licks. “Wanna be a good boy for you.”

Before you could respond, heart-shaped lips wrapped unexpectedly around your clit, engulfing it with his plush, wet warmth and sending shockwaves all throughout your body. Despite your best efforts, you gasped, barely able to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. He sucked eagerly, adding just the right amount of pressure that, if kept up, was sure to draw you to a climax faster than you’d ever experienced before.

“Just like that.” You let your eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. You were made for this.”

Chan dragged his upper lip along the sensitive bud, the tip of his nose brushing against it in a way that threatened to snap the tightening coil in your abdomen all at once.

“Made f-for you,” he stuttered out. “Please, tell me I’m good for you. Tell me ‘m okay.”

You weren’t sure if it was his own arousal becoming too much for him to bear, but his voice had become near-frantic, as did the strokes of his tongue. His movements grew sloppier and sloppier, drool mixing with your essence and nose dragging along your folds almost obsessively.

You ran your fingers through his curls, hoping to keep him grounded. “More than okay. You’re perfect for me, baby boy.” 

A broken whimper met your ears, driving you closer to the edge. “Yeah? ‘M doing well? Please, tell me I’m good,” he begged. “P-please, wanna be good enough.”

Amidst all his pleading and babbling, the words caught you off guard, pulling you out of your blissful haze all at once. Something wet dripped against your skin, warmer and thinner than any of the other fluids pooling at your core, and it made your eyes snap open in alarm.

“Channie?”

“I’ll do it right.” He didn’t look up, still working his mouth despite the choked noises building up in his throat. His hands pawed at your thighs, gripping and squeezing with so much urgency that you’d think he was terrified you might disappear. Another hot droplet ran down your skin, and as you blinked to refocus your vision, you finally noticed it—the trembling of his shoulders. “Just please, l-let me show you ‘m worth something.”

“Chan.” Panic gripped you, and you used your clutch on his hair to catch his attention. “Chan, stop for me, baby.”

Every one of your nerve-endings screamed out in protest as he obediently unlatched himself from you, releasing the mind-numbing suction of his lips. But your worry quickly overtook any of the remaining lust in your body. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to lift his head, and you slid your hand down to his dripping chin, tilting it up into view.

He was crying; tears trickling down his cheeks with fresh ones brimming in his clouded eyes. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet your stare, and your heart may as well have snapped in two.

“Oh, Channie,” you whispered. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” his voice failed him, anything he’d been planning to say fading out into a sob. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

A lump rose in your throat, guilt flooding your chest. You’d known he was off from the beginning—you should’ve done something, you shouldn't have let things get to this point. This was Chan, after all. Of course he’d pretend that he was fine for you, of course he’d try to make himself useful to you instead. You should’ve known better.

Still, you kept calm, even if it was surface-level, you steadied your volume and relaxed your expression; something to ground him amidst it all. “Don’t be sorry. Come see.”

He blinked the tears out of his eyes, only for them to immediately glaze over again. The skin around them had turned red and puffy, and coupled with the exhaustion written all over his face, he looked positively broken. “Sorry, ‘m okay, really,” he tried to insist. “I just…”

One look at your outstretched arms was all it took for him to lose his last shred of composure. He surged forward with a hiccup, falling into you and burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms securely around him, the tear in your heart growing as you felt him shake against you with each gasp and sob that racked his body. His flow of tears didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to come stronger in your hold, warm droplets streaming freely and seeping through the fabric of your shirt. You stayed quiet for a bit, just allowing him to release as you ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“Why are you crying, baby?” you murmured again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I c-can’t fail,” he managed at last, barely coherent through the slur of his speech. “N-not again. I can’t.”

“Fail? Why would you fail?”

He didn’t answer right away—or, rather, he couldn’t, another feeble gasp effectively cutting off any response he’d mustered up. Despite the slew of questions his words unleashed in you, you remained patient, cradling his head with your free hand while the other continued to rub his back. For all its strength and broadness, it was more fragile than ever shuddering under your palm.

“It’s my last chance. C-can’t mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said firmly. Even without any idea as to what he was talking about, you knew that much was true. “What makes you think that?”

Another minute or so passed of him trying to gain control over his hiccups, just long enough to get a proper sentence out. “My mentor,” he took a deep breath. “My mentor rejected my project. S-said it needs a complete rework.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Why?”

You winced at how loud it’d come out, but the utter disbelief in your tone at least seemed to encourage Chan to keep going. He sniffled, still refusing to lift his head from the comfort of your shoulder.

“Just wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t say that.” The possibility wasn’t even worth considering to you. There had to be more to it; you refused to accept otherwise, not when you’d witnessed firsthand how earnestly Chan poured his heart and soul into every piece of music he’d ever created. “I know that can’t be it.”

A thought flickered to life in your head, one so obvious that you scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. “Did you have enough time to work on it?”

“I…” he began weakly. “I t-tried.”

“You were sick for over two weeks, Channie. Does your mentor know that?”

His breath caught in his throat, telling you all that you needed to know. “Don’t...wanna make excuses.”

“But it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s just the truth,” you reasoned. “You couldn’t even get out of bed. There’s no way you could do your best under those conditions.”

“I...I sh-should’ve—”

“You should’ve been getting enough rest. You should’ve told him what was going on.”

Your words seemed to reach him at last, cutting carefully through the thick fog of self-deprecation and sabotage consuming his mind just enough for him to really mull it over. He inhaled again, slower and deeper this time, but still not free of that painful tremor.

“M-maybe,” he rasped. “Maybe I did need more time.”

“There we go.” You combed through his hair. “Your best is more than good enough, Channie. Your mentor wouldn’t have done this study with you otherwise.”

You wanted, more than anything, to see his face as you spoke, to look directly into his red, watery eyes and let him know exactly how much you meant it. But you knew how vulnerable he must be feeling for you to even see him like this, so you let him be, hoping the message would get through to him nonetheless. “I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. He knows what you’re capable of, and so do I. So please, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

Chan’s shoulders relaxed just barely in your arms. He nuzzled further into you, and little by little, the trembling under your palms came to a stop. Given how hard he’d been crying—even now, with new ripples of tears still trickling onto your clothes—you were certain there was something else brewing deep within him. This was only the tip of the iceberg, the breaking point. Even so, you didn’t press the matter just yet, instead choosing to nurture the hint of calm that had begun to creep up on him.

“Do you really think I can do this?”

Your hand slid down to the nape of his neck, playing gently with the wisps of curls that swooped out. “I know you can,” you murmured. “And even if I didn’t, you’d do it anyway. You were made for this.”

A sweet sound, something between a sigh and whine, spilled out of him. Under any other circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t accept it without a protest or two, but in that moment, he absorbed it wholly—clung to it, even. His head finally lifted from the mess of tears and sweat that had formed in the crook of your neck, only to fall right into your chest instead, not quite ready to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he scooted impossibly closer to you, his thigh brushing between your legs in a way that you willed yourself to ignore. “Why don’t we go wash up?”

He tightened his grip on you, another soft noise gracing your ears. “Can we stay like this, please? Just a little longer.”

You softened. “Of course. Anything you want.”

He slumped fully against you as you rested your hand on the small of his back, the last of his reservations effectively washing away. You played loosely with the hem of his hoodie, listening to the sound of his breathing and taking comfort in the fact that it was finally beginning to even out.

The two of you stayed peacefully like that for several minutes, that was, until something warm and damp spread through your shirt, immediately catching your attention. Not tears this time, rather, the feeling of Chan’s mouth pressing against your chest.

Your heart skipped a beat. His lips puckered faintly, forming a moist ring over the material, right around your nipple. Just as you were about to pass it off as an accident, it happened again.

“Is there something you need, Channie?”

“You,” it came muffled. He parted his lips, wider this time, nibbling delicately on the fabric. “Can I? Please?”

It didn’t take much thought for you to understand what he was implying. An uncharacteristically self-indulgent request, one that filled you with affection and pooled heat in your stomach all over again.

“You’re so cute.” You couldn’t help yourself, his transparency made you melt like nothing else—you only wished that it would extend to other aspects of his life, ones that you were equally as hungry for.

Careful not to disturb him too much, you slipped your hands under your shirt and wiggled out of it. Chan lifted his head, albeit briefly, to make it easier for you to unclasp your bra. The instant your skin was bared to him, he nestled right back into your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sending a spark of electricity through your body. He sucked gently at the bud, taking in your scent through his nose and exhaling contently. His hand, covered by the sleeve of his jacket, reached up for your other breast, pawing at it with timid fingertips before squeezing the soft flesh at last.

“My sweet boy,” you cooed. “My baby boy who works so hard he forgets to care for himself.”

He whimpered, puckering and unpuckering his plump lips in a way that would’ve made you rub your thighs together had he not been settled between them. You cupped the back of his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, a look of pure bliss crossing his face. The red, hot flush from all his crying was replaced with something softer now, a rosy shade dusting his puffed cheeks.

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you continued. “I hope you’ll see it one day. I’m so proud of you.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, an especially high-pitched whine escaping him. For a moment, you worried that he may begin to cry again, then, you felt it—his bulge brushing against your leg. His hips rocked forward so subtly, you weren’t even sure if he himself was aware of it, but once you’d noticed, it became hard to ignore the spike in your adrenaline.

Driven on by the feeling of his tongue swirling hungrily around your nipple, you let your hand drift down to the waistband of his pants. His mouth fell open as you traced over his bulge, all but jolting against you. “A-ah, yes. Touch me,” he pleaded.

“My baby’s so needy today,” you teased, dipping your fingers into his underwear and wrapping them around his half-hard length. He tightened his hold on your chest, his low, drawn-out moan sending a delicious vibration through your skin. “But good boys like you get whatever they want.”

Chan unlatched his lips from your nipple, only for any attempt at a reply to be cut off as you began pumping your hand along his dick. The cool night air drifting through your window was no match for the heat building between your bodies; that same, inexplicable heat that always drew you back to him. His fingers flexed around the softness of your breast, and you realized with a soft giggle that he was subconsciously mirroring the pace of your strokes.

You stopped to roll your palm over the head of his cock, smearing the droplets of precum around to add a layer of slickness to your movements. The cry it earned was nothing short of heavenly, ringing out shamelessly through your bedroom and making your core clench. Chan’s hip shot up into your grasp, so overtaken by the pleasure that he forgot to keep sucking for a moment, instead letting his mouth hang as drool began to dribble from its corner.

“Does that feel good?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes,” he slurred. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You deserve it,” you guided his head closer to your chest, allowing him to take your nipple between his swollen lips again. “You deserve to feel so good, angel.”

A wet, sticky sound, mixing with Chan’s pleas, began building as you glided your hand up and down his cock more steadily. Despite everything, it flustered him the moment he registered it, legs squeezing together with a broken whine.

“You hear that? Even the sounds your body makes are cute,” you hummed. His eyes, already shut tight, scrunched up even further to form an adorable look of embarrassment. “My pretty boy. You don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”

“Please,” he mewled, almost unintelligible through the skin and drool occupying his mouth. “Please, ‘m getting close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?”

He could only whimper in response, cock twitching in your hand as you added a delicious pressure to your strokes. He kneaded your chest with more vigor, leaning in to suck on your other nipple and sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His mouth was like wet, warm velvet encasing the sensitive bud; you found it hard to believe that those same lips had been between your legs earlier, drawing you to a climax with a purpose that you could only describe as raw devotion.

“Gonna—!” Chan’s hips bucked up, his whole body tensing. “A-ah, please, can I?”

You swiped your thumb playfully over his slit, and he practically keened. It was cruel, probably, but his unrelenting need to please you, even amidst all the desperation clouding his judgment, only made you want to toy with him more. Still, you knew that given the state he was in, teasing was out of the question. He needed comfort, pleasure, relief—and all of it rested in the palm of your hands.

“Let me see you cum like a good boy.” You gave one final jerk of your wrist, sending him over the edge at last. His thighs clenched, voice catching in his throat for a moment before breaking out into a gasp. Even so, he kept sucking to the best of his ability, babbles of your name dying down into soft mewls as the last few spurts of his seed coated your palm. You held still to avoid overstimulating him, curling his hair absentmindedly around your index finger until his cock finished throbbing in your grasp. Chan blinked his eyes open, still hazy and puffy, just in time to see you remove your hand from his pants and spread your fingers, connected by thick strings of his release.

“Look at all that,” you marveled. “You really needed this, huh?”

A low whine built in his throat. He pressed his cheek into your chest, shying away from the messy view.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Mhm,” he managed a chuckle—quiet, still missing the jovial, melodic quality of his laughter, but even a trace of it was all it took to lift your spirits. Other than that, he said nothing, and you guessed he wasn’t entirely grounded just yet. You reached for a tissue from your nightstand, making a light grunt of effort with Chan’s full weight resting against you, and wiped down your hand to the best of your ability. As you leaned back against the pillows, your stare flickered down to the boy in your arms. He was an absolute wreck now; a sweaty, flushed, beautiful wreck of dried tears and drool gazing back up at you like he would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You did so well for me, Channie,” you praised. “Such a good boy.”

Pressing a quick kiss to his ruffled curls, you shifted beneath him, wordlessly urging him to let you wiggle off the bed. His reaction was immediate, sweater paws gripping your waist with an unexpected intensity.

“W-wait,” it was tinged with panic. “Don’t go, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you assured him, tapping the tip of his nose. “But we need to get you cleaned up, don’t we?”

He blinked a few times before the words seemed to get through to him. Then, with a slow nod, he hoisted himself off of you. It came as a surprise—though it shouldn’t have—how your body instantly longed for his warmth again. You took both of his hands into yours, almost tempted to push his sleeves back to properly lace your fingers together. But he seemed content with his palms covered like that, safe and secure in a way you didn’t dare to disrupt. With care, you tugged him up by his arms, letting him lean against you as you guided him to the bathroom. He didn’t let go of either of your hands the entire time, and, as awkward as the intimate gesture made it to walk, your heart fluttered.

You set the water to a warm temperature, watching Chan sway back and forth on his feet as you filled up the tub. His eyes were a bit more alert now, breaking the glaze that had encased them all throughout the night, like the reality of what had taken place was beginning to set in his mind.

“Wanna get undressed for me, Channie?”

There was a delay before he responded, long enough for you to give his hand a squeeze.

“Oh…yeah.”

Reluctantly, he released his hold on you, clumsy fingers fiddling with his hoodie in an attempt to shrug it off. With a fond smile, you reached out to help slide it down his shoulder. His arms fell limply to his sides, and you took it as a sign to keep going, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off, his pants and underwear following soon after. Even now, he ducked his head, unable to look you in the eye as you shut off the stream of water and ushered him into the tub.

As he sank into the warm pool, a sigh escaped him, so soft and relieved that you could practically feel the bliss rippling through his body. You sat yourself down on the edge of the tub, taking a moment to soak your washcloth before drizzling it with body wash—vanilla and cherry blossom, a blend of scents you’d quickly come to learn was Chan’s favorite. He loosened up the instant you came in contact with his skin, leaning into your touch. Gently, you began to scrub, lathering his broad back and shoulders with the sweet, flowery smell and admiring every curve and muscle in the process.

The rhythmic drag of the loofah and the gentle lap of the water had him reduced to putty in your hands in no time. He didn’t bother to resist the way his eyes drooped shut, each tranquil rock earning a small hum from him.

“Does that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Channie. Your muscles are so tense,” you added. “I hope this helps a bit.”

He hummed again, tilting his head to the side as you moved up to the junction of his shoulder and neck, the comforting scent of your soap fully flooding his nostrils. Knowing how sensitive his neck was, you were careful not to press too hard around the area. It was horribly timed, but your skin tingled as you passed over the spot where you’d previously marked him—long faded by now, but you remembered the visual clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “About all of this.”

“Don’t apologize,” you ran the cloth along the slope of his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want you to hide stuff like this from me—isn’t that what we promised?”

He hesitated. “I…yeah.”

“Even big, strong shoulders like yours can’t carry everything by themselves,” you scolded lightly. It earned a puff of laughter, and even with his eyes still closed tight, he lowered his head sheepishly.

The question that had been lingering in the back of your mind all night—the question that had been eating away at you since you’d first met him, really, made its presence known once again. The missing piece of the puzzle, the hidden crater yet to be illuminated. You knew by now that Chan wouldn’t reveal it without a strong enough nudge, no matter how badly he wanted to. Even if it was threatening to burst out of his chest, just aching for a pin to come along, he’d use all his strength to keep in until you punctured it yourself.

“Chan,” you pressed your lips together. “When you said ‘not again’…can I ask what you meant by that?”

He stiffened under your palms, features darkening to form that same expression as all those months ago, when you’d first asked why he’d changed majors. You repressed the urge to take it back this time—you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

“Spring semester of my senior year,” he mumbled. “I failed most of my classes.”

Something awful gripped you, so intensely that you stopped scrubbing for a moment. Failed. It felt so wrong coming out of his mouth, a word you couldn’t comprehend ever applying to him.

“I…I decided to change from astrophysics and try music. It was something I always kinda wanted to do, anyway.” He sounded so nervous—terrified, even—shrinking into himself as he spoke as if each sentence made him more and more vulnerable to some hidden assailant waiting to attack. You continued your ministrations with the hopes of easing his fears a bit, wringing out the washcloth before adding more soap and running it along his chest. Even through the rough material, you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“My parents, they…I've never really disappointed them like that before,” his voice cracked on the word “disappointed”, like it physically pained him to say. “I still don’t think they’ve really accepted it. They still look at me like…like I'm…”

He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it for your gut to wrench.

“Maybe once I graduate, they’ll think I'm worth something again.”

“Please, don’t talk like that,” you couldn’t hide your own distress. “You’re worth something as you are. It’s your future, Chan, not theirs.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just fail again? I’m so…so scared that I’m making the wrong decision.”

“It must be scary,” you agreed, gliding the washcloth along the tense curves of his arms. “Really hard, too. But that’s because you’re carving out your own path. No one else has walked it before you to clear out the way.”

He went quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue, a chance to keep swinging at the seemingly indestructible wall of self-doubt he’d so carefully crafted for years.

“You’re not alone, either,” you encouraged. “Think of Bin and Jisung and all that faith you have in them. Think of how much faith they must have in you to follow you down that path without question.”

If only he knew—if only he saw the admiration for him written all over their faces, oozing from every word they spoke. If only he knew the admiration you’d felt for him as early as when Changbin had first told you about him choosing music composition. Daring to take a route that, in many ways, was more challenging than even the most horrific of astrophysics courses. Not only that, but daring to flourish, leaving room for flowers to grow along the way wherever he roamed.

When Chan replied, you could've sworn you heard the faintest glimmer of hope in it. “I guess I never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, start thinking of it that way,” you chided softly. “I know you can do it. Just because others want you to do something, doesn’t mean it’s right. What’s right is what makes you happy.”

He loosened up further, welcoming your cleansing touch and your words of compassion more and more openly. You washed him in silence for another few minutes, debating in your head whether or not to keep pursuing the matter, to peel back another layer of him and get to his core.

“Were you…unhappy doing astrophysics?”

“Not exactly.” You got the feeling he could tell what you were really attempting to ask him. “I meant it when I said I liked it. That’s…not why I failed.”

You made a noise of understanding that masked the countless other things you wanted to say. He jolted just barely as you ventured down to clean his stomach, approaching his most sensitive area with a touch as gentle as it was deliberate. Care with a purpose.

“The…the person I was with, at the time,” he paused—whether to gather his thoughts, or to gauge your reaction, you weren’t entirely sure. Your eyes widened just a bit, but you kept your hand stubbornly occupied, scrubbing over his sore thighs. Like clockwork, they nearly closed in on each other. “She had a lot going on. Her mother was really sick; in and out of the hospital a lot.”

Even as dread stirred within you, like you knew exactly where this story was going, you left him space to continue.

“She just needed some help with everything she was dealing with in her life, y’know? I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” you murmured. It was a given, one of the few certainties in life. Chan would always help, for no reason other than the fact that he could.

“I t-tried to be there for her. Took her wherever she needed to go, helped with her classes, visited her mother, looked after her little sister when she couldn’t,” he swallowed. “Then, around May, things got really bad. Her mom needed treatment for a few weeks, so I spent most of my time at the hospital or taking care of her sister.”

Something about the way he phrased it made you feel compelled to ask, “Where was she during that time?”

“Dunno,” he chuckled, humorless. “But I can probably guess.”

You stole a glance at his face. His eyes were open now, locked on the bubbly water and refusing to meet yours, like he might break all over again if he did. “In the end, I guess I didn't prepare well enough for my finals. Didn’t pass most of them. So I figured, if I was gonna be taking more semesters, anyway…i-if it wasn’t going to be perfect, I might as well start from scratch, y’know? Do it right this time.”

“Oh, Channie,” you rested your hand on his head. “That’s too much. That’s way too much.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h—”

“No, no,” you didn’t even want to give him the chance to second-guess himself. “Please, don’t hold back. I’m listening.”

He was sugarcoating it, you knew he was. Even now, two years into the aftermath and still suffering the effects of it, he was trying to dismiss it all as something casual.

“What about her? What happened?”

Chan shrugged, reaching up for his ear. You didn’t push him as he fiddled with the silver hoop, instead taking the opportunity to grab your bottle of shampoo and squeeze some of the substance into your palm while he found the will to answer.

“When she found out I wasn’t graduating, she ended it,” he said at last. “Think it was already over, anyway. She was with someone else a few weeks later.”

“Oh my God.”

Through the haze that had been filling his head the entire night, your emotions still reached him with ease. “I brought it on myself, though,” he added quickly, as if the excuse—had it been even remotely correct—would’ve made it any better. “It was all just my own stupid choices. I can’t really say it’s her fault.”

Yes, you can. It took every ounce of self-control to stop yourself from pressing your nails into his head, just to avoid hurting him. You weren’t sure what drove the urge most: sympathy, protectiveness, fury. You couldn’t even begin to fathom it—you didn’t want to fathom it. To be presented with a heart as pure and honest as Chan’s, a love so selfless and sincere, only to trample all over it like it was worthless.

Despite the whirlwind that had spiraled to life inside you, you settled for something softer, a tenderness that, clearly, had been missing from his life thus far. You rubbed the shampoo delicately into his hair, swirling the dark curls around in a way that sent pleasurable ripples down his spine.

“It’s not your fault,” your tone left no room for debate. “Someone took advantage of your kindness. But showing that kindness? How could that possibly be your fault, Channie?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. You wondered if it was the first time he’d been told anything like that—whether by himself, or anyone else.

“I never do things for people to gain anything from it,” Chan began, and you knew, more than anything, that he meant it. “But…”

He hesitated, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to compose himself.

“But it hurts to be used.”

“Yeah. I understand.” You understood more than he could know, more than you could say in that moment. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes again, and for his own sake, you scooped up a portion of water in your hands and began to cleanse his head of the shampoo, letting the streams mask any fresh droplets that may trickle out.

“She never really did anything like this,” he said softly. “Most of the time, she’d just leave.”

Everything clicked into place. All the missing pieces of the puzzle, all at once, with each realization serving as another pang in your chest.

“Chan. I need you to know, right now, that this is what you deserve. All of this, and more.”

Faint sniffles and dripping water echoed throughout the bathroom. In this case, you welcomed it over his usual protests.

“I see everything you do, for me, and everyone else. You never give up on people, even with more than enough reason to,” you ran your hand through his hair, watching the wet ringlets slip through your fingers. “I admire that so much about you, but you still need to think of yourself once in a while. It’s not worth it—it’s never worth it to give your all to someone who will only see the empty husk left behind.”

Vaguely, you saw it, the slow nod of his head. It filled you with hope, the possibility that he might start to see himself the way you saw him, even if just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of him was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

“One day, all that kindness you put out into the world is gonna find you again. I promise.”

He turned his head to look up at you for the first time, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.

“I think it already has.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Neither of you said much as you continued bathing him, a quiet spell—comfortable, once more—passing between you and allowing everything that had been said to settle in your minds. You took your time conditioning Chan’s hair, giving each lush, beautiful curl the proper attention it deserved until you were fully satisfied. By the time you had finished rinsing him off, your legs were aching from sitting in the same, uncomfortable position for so long, and you were certain his were too. You helped him rise from the tub to the best of your ability, taking a moment to admire the streams of water traveling down his body before you passed him a towel.

As you re-entered your bedroom together, you immediately went to shut your window, not keen on creating even the slightest opportunity for Chan to catch another sickness. He was rocking on his heels again, looking seconds away from collapsing into your bed; he likely already would have if it weren’t for the fact that he was clad with nothing but a damp towel.

You dug around for a bit before locating a fresh pair of sweatpants he’d previously left at your place. When you presented them to him, he grinned for the first time that night.

“Been looking for these,” he commented. “They’re my favorite.”

“Well, they’re mine, now,” you teased. “But I can let you borrow them, I guess.”

To your surprise, he brought the garment up to his nose, and it took you a moment to register that he was breathing in the scent of your laundry detergent. It was almost ridiculous, how such a small action made you feel like your heart was going to erupt out of your chest.

The two of you settled into bed once he’d changed, and the exhaustion that had been gradually seeping down into Chan’s bones throughout the entire course of the night—even before that, probably—took over at last. You pulled the covers over your bodies, and he nestled into you before your head had even hit the pillow, his misgivings from your first night together nowhere to be found.

You prayed that he’d be able to sleep soundly tonight. His warmth washed over you, lulling you into dreams of your own. As you opened your mouth to wish him goodnight before your consciousness escaped you, you heard it. A mumble, just audible enough for you not to pass off as your own imagination.

“Think I love you.”

He was so drowsy that he may not have even noticed if you chose not to respond—you weren’t even sure if he noticed that he’d said it in the first place.

You rested your hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I love you, too.”

Something twisted deep within you as you returned his words. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you did.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime (mentioned), Kagaya Ubuyashiki (mentioned), Shinobu (mentioned), Kanae (mentioned) Enmu, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Warnings: nsfw, murder, traumatic events from a child perspective, death, violence, gore, loss of parents, implied adoption, implied stalking, oral sex (reader receiving).

Plot: Talking with his seventh in command, Muzan reminisced about his past, about you and how you had always been his greatest weakness. While a particular Slayer is searching for you, Muzan bent his knee to you and showed you a side of him you, deep down, hoped to see. He cared about you a little more than he allowed you to know, apparently, and you once again feel lost into this crazy whirlwind of contrasting emotions.

PART 1| PART 2| PART 3| PART 4| PART 5| PART 6| PART 7

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MEMORIES.

"What do we know about her?" Muzan asked, lighting up a cigarette as he stared at the photograph of the purple-eyed slayer who had dared to put your life in danger. She was no different from the other ones they had taken down throughout the years: a prick destined to fall by his hand, a girl whose name was going to be forgotten by the world, once she had exhaled her last breath. Who was she again? A slayer.

Who were The Slayers?

The Slayers, right, a pack of mangy dogs without a life purpose who spent their time trying to get his head, young people wasting their youth to serve that man. Every single time The Moons captured one of the swordsmen, they all said the same thing: "Muzan Kibutsuji is a monster, he deserves to die".

He was not offended. He pitied them, instead. How could they be so blind to see that Ubuyashiki Kagaya, and his father before him, asked them to stain their hands in blood, to commit the same crimes he, the devil himself, the infamous Muzan Kibutsuji, had been accused of? The thing was they surely fought for opposite ideals, but when the sun set, they were the same.

Why? Because two people pointing a gun, pulling the trigger, washing the blood of their victim away from their faces, were always going to be murderers. It did not matter why they did it, or how they dealt with their conscience, they were killers.

Now, looking at that girl, he wanted nothing more than tearing her apart limb from limb, for she had had the audacity of putting your life in danger. You, the girl he was going to marry, the one who had touched some strings of his heart no one had ever found, the good omen in his life. There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about: he would have always protect you.

Even if it meant dying for you.

"Her name is Shinobu Kocho, Master. – the seventh in command cooed – Her code name is Belladonna. Apparently, she is best known for poisoning her victims" he singsonged, drawing another photograph from his folder and sliding it down Muzan's desk.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes at the girl portrayed in it. She seemed a few years older than the other Slayer, but she had some physical traits in common with her. Were they perhaps related in some way? He had a feeling he had seen her face before. Those twinkling, kind, pink eyes felt familiar.

"She is the reason why Balladonna attacked Douma and Miss. L/N yesterday—" the Moon continued, only to be cut off by Muzan.

His plum red eyes blazed in a sinister glint, until they almost seemed to have darkened for his evident irritation "Mrs. Kibutsuji, Enmu" he deadpanned, watching the way his subordinate prostrated himself in front of him, his dark bob swinging around his heart-shaped visage.

"I beg your pardon, Master! – Enmu pleaded him, his turquoise eyes transfixed on the polished black derby shoes of the raven-haired man in front of him – I did not mean to offend you and your lovely fiancé" he apologetically cried out, not daring to flick his gaze up to face his cantankerous boss. He knew how cruel Muzan could be, he knew he would have not stopped when blood spilled, or a bone broke. They were nothing more than toys for him. Oncr they were broken, he threw them away without hesitation.

Muzan scoffed, reaching his hand out to put off the cigarette on the silver ashtray "Spit it out then. You are wasting my time, Enmu Tamio. – he stated, grasping the photo and turning it towards the terrified boy – Who is this other girl?".

The seventh in command gulped down forcefully, eyes landing on the the girl's smiling face in the photo, as he nodded his head absent-mindedly "Her name was Kanae Kocho. She was Belladonna's older sister. Douma kidnapped, tortured and killed her in hope she would have revealed her colleagues's identities. She did not say anything, except that her sister would have come for our heads sooner or later. – he explained, a tear rolling down his right cheek – I was there too. I recorded everything".

It was only then, when Enmu mentioned the fact that she had been killed by Douma, that he remembered her. Peony, she was Peony. He had specifically given the order to murder her, after they had reported the news of her being a Slayer and wandering around a certain area of the city: your neighborhood. Her shifts dangerously coincided with your homecomings from the restaurant where you worked.

He could not let you two interact. Not after he had found you again after all those years. You were his greatest weakness, his remorse. His humanity. The idea of having killed you too that night, under the pouring rain, had tormented him for years. He would have never forgotten your big doe eyes filled with tears. You had not changed. The terrorized look you had whenever you were scared was the same you had shot in his direction in the middle of the night, when you screamed out your father's name as his dead body slumped down on the muddy ground.

Your eyes had haunted him for years.

When he saw you all those years later, jogging down the sidewalk, he knew you were not just a random girl. He did not imagine it was you, though. The kid whose life he had crashed the night he officially succeded his father and swore to take the lead of the Country. He had to see you again, he had to know who you were, you had to be his to protect and keep by side forever.

When Douma had showed him the first picture of you he had taken, he immediately focused on your eyes. It was you then. It was the kid he had to kill. It was Y/N L/N.

It was Y/N Ubuyashiki, the sin staining Kagaya's name.

And it was yesterday, when you stared at him in horror, fearing for your life, that he understood that he could not keep the eye-contact with you. He could not keep up with you, he could not see you staring at him as if he was a monster, like you had said that night. Therefore, he had blindfolded you.

If only you knew how deeply he cared about you. He cursed the fate day and night for having made him fall for you, his enemy's daughter. He was going mad. You were a black diamond, enticing him with your attitude and beauty.

You, how dare you to make him fall for you with every minute you spent together?

Muzan scowled, his plum red eyes darting on the display of his phone on his desk. You had apparently texted him a few minutes ago, but he was too busy reminiscing about the past to hear the sound of the nitification.

"Leave" he flatly said, grabbing his phone and turning his back at the knelt man in front of him to make him plainly clear that his presence was no longer required.

Enmu flinched at the sound of his voice and hastily stood up, bolting for the door with his heart thrumming into his chest. A coward, that was how Muzan saw him. A talented hypnotist, indeed, but a rabbit running into his burrow as soon as danger flinged around the room.

Once he was alone, Muzan sat on his armchair and unlocked his screen to read your message. He expected you to thank him for the bank transfer, or asking him more about the plans for the night. What he did not expect was a picture of Nakime, staring blankly at the camera, and your comments below.

YOU: Hi, Muzzie! Care to explain what the fuck she's doing here? :)

YOU: Also, thanks for the gifts and the money but, honestly, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some privacy back. If I am not mistaken, the fourth clause of the contract specifically grants a car for me to use. Where is it?

Muzan smirked. You were really as smart as he thought you were. But he loved playing with you to test your nerves.

MUZAN: Earn it, love.

You did not take a long time to reply and he found himself smiling at the display once again, eager to read what you had to say.

YOU: How? Do I have to kill for you? Whose head do you crave to use as a footrest?

He would have never ever let you be a monster. You were an angel, a pure soul. He killed in your name, but he would have never ever asked of you to take someone's life for him. You were his pride and joy. Therefore, before going back to work on his pc, he typed a simple reply.

MUZAN: That's romantic, love. But I'm fine. Just get on all four tonight, it will suffice.

♚

Cheeks beet red, nails digging onto the palms of your hands, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was no way in the world you were going to wear that thing for him. You liked some good lingerie, but that was definitely too much. You felt naked, the silky black choker around your neck was making you feel like a courtesan. The suspenders, the lace thong and the bra were doing numbers on you.

What did he have in store for you? After all, he had promised you that you would have talked about his bodyguards, about him and about The Slayers.

If he thought you were just going to moan his name all night long, he was wrong. Grabbing your phone, you called him. You were not going to wear these slutty undergarments to pamper his ego. Reaching one hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, you kept your phone pressed to yout ear with the other and patiently waited for Muzan to pick up the phone.

"I guess you've found my gift, haven't you?" his hoarse voice finally pierced your ears after the third ring, earning a sight from you.

"Yes, I have, and I'm not going to wear this shit. I don't care if it's a 'Victoria's secret' limited collection. I still have my dignity" you complied, struggling to get the with the item off of you. As long as you hated it, you perfectly knew that it was expensive and you did not want to ruin it out of irritation.

You heard Muzan humming "It's not something supposed to stay on for a long time, love. – he reasoned, as you finally discarded the bra back onto the box huffing and puffing – What are you doing, anyway?" he curiously asked, making you roll your eyes at his comment.

"Nothing inappropriate, don't worry. I'm just going to take a shower" you replied, settling the phone on the bed and selecting the loudspeaker as you proceeded in slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear to drag them down your thighs.

However, the call ended with a click but Muzan's voice sounded too close to you "I'm just in time, then" he cooed from the threshold, making an high-pitched scream leave your lips, arms reaching up to cover your exposed chest from his vicious eyes immediately. Zero privacy, as per usual.

You blushed and took a few steps back, your eyes daggers on the man stripping off of his jacket "Hands down, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen before" he promptly remarked, turning towards the door and locking it.

"You're a pervert" you spat, averting your eyes from him.

Muzan quirked his eyebrow up, loosening the knot of his tie and throwing it on the floor carelessly, his fingers then working on the buttons of his shirt "I haven't showed you all my kinks yet, love. Don't be so rude. I'm much worse than that" he jested, irking you.

You exhaled through your nostrils and stormed to the bathroom, in hope to lock the door and leave him behind, but Muzan had understood your poor strategy and, before you could reach your destination, he had his hands around your waist. You yelped, your naked back pressed against his firm abs sent shivers down your spine, but the way the way his hands cupped your breasts, replacing your shaking ones, was something else.

"Can we try to get along? – he whispered in your ear, planting a kiss below your jaw – I don't like it, when you're mad at me" he hotly said, resting his chin on the top of your shoulder.

"If you stopped being a jerk, I would stop being a brat" you retorted, trying to resist his charm.

"What do I have to do to make you like me?" Muzan asked, a smug smirk gracing his lips as he rested his hands down your hips and spun you around to face him. Now, staring deep into his eyes, it was hard saying no. It was hard denying him what he was asking of you.

You batted your eyes close for a second, your fingertips grazing the outline of his abs "Show me that you like me too" you said breathless, almost regretting it. Why did you ask him such a thing? He oughted you no devotion, or romantic commitment after all.

You did not expect him to take you seriously. You did not expect him to grasp your chin and capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss again. Yet, when his tongue slipped into your mouth and he softly helped you to lay down on the bed behind you, there was something that made you feel like he was truly trying to convince you of something, of proving his intentions and feelings.

When his lips parted from yours, his hand slipping down underneath your panties, he locked his eyes with yours "Has anyone ever gone down on you?" he asked in a whisper, making your breath hitch in your throat.

No. The answer was no, naturally. You had gone down on someone a few times, but no one had ever done it for you. Not even your ex, Sanemi.

"N-No" you murmured, turning your face to the side in embarrassment.

Muzan cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking the area above your cheekbone lovingly "May I have the honor to be your first once again?" he asked you, watching the way your eyes widened slightly and how you nodded your head at him. He had asked for your consent. Not that you never had given him it, but it was hot, it was intimate.

"You don't have to, you know?" you told him, watching how he worked on the suspenders and dragged every last piece of item you were wearing down your legs.

Muzan's hands ran up and down your thighs, parting them gently, as he laid his body flatly on the mattress. His hot breath fanned your heat and you bit your lower lip in anticipation, as he placed a soft kiss on your clitoris.

"I want to" he simply said, before he ran his tongue down your slit.

You jolted, sparks of electricity pervading your body as he started lapping up at your arousal with swirls of his expert tongue. How many times had he done it? Probably, too many to count. Yet, you were aloof from knowing that you were the only woman he was enjoying going down to, the only one he had offered his skills to without feeling any kind of pressure.

Why? Because it was you and you were different for him.

His pace was torturously slow, his mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it, flicking his tongue around it, made whimpers and soft moans fall from your lips as your hands gripped the bedsheets at your sides tightly.

Arching your back, you glanced down at him. Muzan met your gaze, his red eyes pinning you on the spot as he gave you a look of your juices running down his chin, glistening under the artificial light of the chandelier. You blushed and he grinned, grasping your legs and settling them over his shoulders.

"You taste heavenly" he purred against your pussy, before sticking his tongue deep into your clenching hole.

You squirmed, hands flying up to your face to shield yourself from his attentive eyes. You felt ashamed for fhe lewd faces you were making. Did you really miss that much? Or was it just Mr. Kibutsuji talent?

"Muzan—" you whined, tears peeking at the angle of your eyes as your partner's grip on your hips intensified. You felt the a familiar pressure coiling into your lower abdomen and the idea of releasing on Muzan's tongue made you both thrilled and bashful. What if he did not like it? What if he did not want you to cum?

But, actually, the way he stimulated every right spot of your clitoris, the way he held your body close to his face, was a clear sign that he aspired to. He groaned against your entrance, your legs squeezing his head as you ended up climaxing on his sinful tongue.

He lapped away your essence and you trembled under the overstimulation, your chest raising and falling erratically as you stared at the ceiling in haze. What had just happened? Why did he let you enjoy yourself that much? Why did he satisfy your fantasies, if you should have been the one doing it?

You lifted yourself up on your elbows, glancing up at the dark-haired man unbuckling his belt at the end of the bed. The prominent tent in his pants looked uncomfortable and you blushed, crawling towards him with the most grateful and kind expression on your face that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. You could not look that cute and beautiful at the same time.

"T-Thank you... – you whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear – Can I help you take care of..." you trailed off, darting your eyes away from the bulge in his boxers, threatening to nudge at your nose. You had not realised how close to it you were, until you had flicked your gaze up to meet his intense gaze.

Muzan chuckled, his calloused hand ruffling your hair jokingly "You don't have to thank me. – he said, his eyes darkening all of a sudden – But you can follow me into the shower. I feel like if I fucked you right now the way I had planned, you would seriously need me to carry you around for a week" he hoarsely commented, making your heart drop into your stomach.

What was wrong with him?

♚

In the meanwhile, maroon eyes studied your empty house. It seemed like you had not been home for a few days. Everything was perfectly tidy, but the majority of your clothes were gone from the drawers, from your wardrobe. Your books were no where to be seen and the fridge was empty.

The tall man sighed, entering your bedroom in search for any clue of where you had gone. Little did he know where you were, but when Kagaya had called him last night to ask for his help again, he had refused to believe it.

You, the sweet and innocent girl he had rescued that night, were now siding with a monster? How did he convince you to follow him? How could you possibly love him?

Yet, when he spotted a white shirt with a reddish stain on its sleeve, he grasped it. Inhaling the dull track of scent still impregnating the fabric, he cussed. Reality finally dawned to him at the smell of the wine ruining the snow-white shirt. It was a Chianti. He knew exactly who loved sipping glasses of Chianti.

Muzan Kibutsuji had taken you away and Yoriichi Tsugikuni was going to bring you back home.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I am honored to finally introduce the knight in the shiny armor: Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Now, Muzan and oral sex are something else for me. Y/N is a lucky pal, although her past is … ehm, a little crazy, you know? And there’s so much more to know about it muhahah. I love angsty shit, don’t I?

Anyway, let me know what you think about the chapter and thank you so much for reading this fan fiction 😭❤️

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013