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cultofdionysusnet · 11 months ago

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Check out this fifth submission by Holy for our See u on the flip side event

𝔗𝔬𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔩 | Wooyoung x reader

Pairing: Step Brother's Best Friend Wooyoung x Reader Summary: When the summer heat hits the city, all you want to do is lie around uder the air conditioning and do nothing. But your step-brother's best friend is showing you a whole new way to beat the hell out of the heat. Too hot to cuddle, but great to fuck. Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, f2l, fragment of life Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 5.2k Warnings: dom!Wooyoung, sub!reader, pussy drunk, face riding, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, squirting and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet

A|N: Something that was supposed to be a normal unholy hour, but turned into a real little masterpiece. Written as part of the @cultofdionysusnet summer24 event. My hint: "too hot to cuddle" But, this is also a gift for you, my beautiful bunnies. There are officially more than 3k of you. I hope you all can take the heat, bunnies, for no summer swelter can compare to the hotness of Wooyoung.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @oddracha

A stifling heat wave has been terrorising your city for weeks now. The heavy, white-hot air was burning on skin and settling into lungs, making it hard to breathe normally. Life in the whole city practically stopped, as everyone preferred to stay in the coolness of their own homes and don't go outside unless you have to. Unfortunately, the air conditioner in your apartment broke down just before the heat wave hit the city, leaving you to face the scorching summer heat all alone. If it hadn't been for San, who had kindly offered to let you stay at his and Wooyoung's apartment until the air conditioner was fixed, it's hard to imagine how you would have survived.

Their place just was amazing—big and bright, with a huge kitchen and a studio lounge, which was where you were now, curled up on the couch with a cold drink in one hand and your phone in the other. But most importantly, there was a big, powerful fan pointing at you and blowing cold air onto your heated, wet skin.

The boys weren't home; San was probably at the gym with Yeosang and maybe Hongjoong, although you weren't sure if they could get the grumpy blue-haired boy to come with them, especially in the middle of the noon heat. And Wooyoung, well, you didn't really think much of him, but he definitely wasn't home. You could tell by the absence of his loud voice, ringing through the paper-thin walls.

And maybe it was for the best, because you had found yourself staring at him too much lately, especially when the heat had forced him to wear tight black tank tops more often, revealing more of his smooth, caramel-golden skin covered in a light, shiny layer of sweat to everyone around him. It was hard for you to admit it, but perhaps, just perhaps, you had the strong desire to lick her like candy, even though you had doubts that Woo would be sweet on your tongue.

You were sure the heat was to blame, because you just couldn't fall in love with your step brother's best friend, even though he was so damn tempting and had that subtle but noticeable vibe of hard dominance that you were so attracted to in guys. Everything about him screamed, Daddy. And if you were asked what you thought of him, you'd even say "Daddiest." Damn it, it was all those hormones of yours that were playing up because of the long absence of sex and the heat, and maybe because of Wooyoung's all too seductive, darker fox eyes. But it certainly wasn't love, or at least that is what you wanted to believe.

You stretched out your naked legs and scrolled absent-mindedly through your news feed, completely oblivious to the fact that Woo was standing in the doorway. A soft sigh escaped from his plump lips, slightly swollen from his compulsive habit of constantly biting them, and you finally pulled yourself away from your phone and looked up at him as you smiled softly.

When he didn't say anything to you, you tilted your head to the side in confusion, because of which the strap of your tiny top slipped off your shoulder, exposing your breasts slightly as you noticed how focused and dark his gaze was. Sometimes you couldn't make out the expressions on his sculpted face, wondering if Wooyoung was angry, horny, or focused, which made it hard for you to communicate with him. But no matter what kind of emotions Wooyoung was feeling at any given moment, it was always a pretty intense one.

Under the weight of his gaze, you fidgeted a little in your seat and belatedly adjusted the strap that had fallen off of your shoulder. In all honesty, you were pretty scantily clad, especially in view of the fact that you were sharing a flat with two hot and sexually active guys.

And you probably should have dressed a little more decently, but the weather was really hot as hell, and you couldn't even think of wearing anything else but a tiny silk top and the same silk shorts that looked more like elongated panties and barely covered your plump, soft buttocks. You didn't think much of it, considering the boys themselves rarely wore anything but baggy pyjama pants or basketball shorts when they stayed at home, flaunting their tight, sculpted torsos and seductive muscles.

At the moment, however, Wooyoung was having a real interior crisis about how seductive your thighs looked and how your tiny shorts tightened around your plump booty, leaving half of your buttocks completely exposed. Your top barely covered your heavy, juicy tits and showed off more of them than he could ever have imagined. Even from his seat, he could clearly see how swollen your candy pink nipples were under the thin silky fabric. Wooyoung silently turned on his heels and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water, as if that would help him clear his mind of how thick and soft your thighs looked and how the thin strip of fabric between your legs was the only thing covering your small, plump pussy.

It was no secret that he found you attractive; even more of that, Wooyoung had found you sexy, so fucking fuckable, and he'd gotten that feeling a long time ago. Woo had never seen you before, until he and San had moved to Seoul after graduation. He only knew you nominally, because San just couldn't keep his mouth shut about his little stepsister's attractiveness. Fuck it, his buddy was drooling over you even more than he was, and once you were once a family, however briefly. But now that it was all in the past, there was nothing to connect you except decency, which was running out. He wasn't blind; Woo saw the way San looked at you because he looked at you the same way.

He'd wanted you from the second you stepped over the threshold of the flat he shared with San, and that desire grew even stronger with each passing day. Especially when you fuelled his fantasies by strutting around the house in your tiny pyjamas that barely covered your ass and perfectly contoured your cunt when you bent too low or squatted. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your breasts jiggled, barely contained by the skimpy top, as you cleaned the flat. Or the way your hard, swollen nipples showed through the thin, almost transparent fabric. Now, after a couple of weeks had passed, he could definitely tell that your nipples were a soft, deep pink colour, and your pussycat was always perfectly smooth and plump.

But tonight... it was on a whole other level. The heat level in the city was at a hellish peak, and so was the level of sexual tension between the two of you, and considering that he hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks because of the damn heat, all of his senses were on edge. And while San was distracted from you by spending his days at the gym and running off to Seonghwa's apartment, Wooyoung had no choice but to face his temptation.

He looked over his shoulder to find you still in the same position you had been a few minutes earlier, sprawled out on their soft grey sofa in your impossibly slutty pyjamas. His eyes slid down your body, taking in every detail—the way your shorts clung to your buttocks, the way the sweat dripped down into the hollow between your breasts, and the way you licked your lips, leaving them glistening and wet with saliva. Fuck, his cock twitched as the image of you running those very same lips over his cock, licking it like it was candy, flashed before his mind's eye.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's in big trouble. Woo could feel his cock getting harder by the second, and there was no way he was going to make it back to his bedroom without you noticing the big bulge in his grey sweatpants. His eyes narrowed as you shifted slightly in your seat and spread your legs a little further apart so that he could now clearly see the fabric of your shorts digging in between your labia. The image of your juicy, thick thighs arranged on either side of his head as you lower your pussy to his face and rub your moist, soft folds against his tongue instantly appeared before his eyes.

"Fuck..." Wooyoung moaned loudly, and you turned all your attention to him immediately. With your mouth slightly agape in confusion and your eyes wide and shining, you were so adorable. Damn it, girl, you were just begging him to ruin you.

"Wooyoung, are you okay?" The slightly confused, innocent tone of your voice made his cock twitch. It was already damned hard, the heavy, thick length throbbing with desire to feel the warm tightness of your cunt or the slippery wetness of your pretty mouth.

The thought of you drooling on his cock made more pre-cum leak from his slit, coating the swollen, reddened head with a transparent glaze. Fuck, he'd give anything right now, just to see you licking up all the liquid with your naughty little tongue and looking up at him with your eyes wide open and glistening. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from pouncing on you at that very moment.

God knows he tried; he honestly tried to take his eyes off of your crotch and to push all those lewd and dirty thoughts of you away from him, but it was stronger than he was. There you were, right in front of him, all sweet and seductive, in those fucking pyjamas, spreading your legs for him. How the hell could he resist the urge to fuck you senseless when you were provoking him, even if not on purpose? Wooyoung was just being a man. Sue him for that.

"It's okay, baby. It's just the heat." Yes, it was all because of the heat of your little cunt that was hidden by your silk shorts. He could almost see the little wet spot of your mucus on the thin material. God, he needs help. Where the hell's San?

"Come sit with me; it's cooler here." You said with a flutter of your fluffy eyelashes and a slight puff of your chubby cheeks, a habit he knew you'd had since you were a child and one that drove San crazy, and it seemed he wasn't the only one. But that didn't surprise Woo at all. He and San had the same taste in everything from soju to pussy. "Please." You stroked over the spot next to you with your hand and continued to look at him with those bambi eyes of yours.

How could he refuse you? It had all happened so quickly that Wooyoung hadn't even noticed how he had ended up on the couch next to you, with your legs touching his thigh. He spread his legs slightly to hide the bulge of his cock, but it didn't help; he was hard as a rock, his cock pressed tightly against his stomach, the reddened, swollen head almost peeking out from under his grey sweatpants.

Your legs shifted a little, causing your shorts to rise even higher, and Woo let out a soft moan. Your eyes slid down the length of his body until they stopped at his crotch, causing you to catch your breath. You quickly put two and two together and finally realised what the situation was, and you couldn't say that it didn't turn you on. You swallowed hard and lifted your eyes back up to his face, only to find yourself immediately trapped by his dark, intense gaze. Wooyoung was literally devouring you with his eyes as the tip of his tongue was poking out of the corner of his plump lips.

"Wooyoung...you...I..." You started to stutter, particularly when you felt his hot palm come down on your thigh. His skin was slightly rough, and his touch was possessive and heavy, but it only turned you on more. "I-I...do you need help with that?" You immediately wanted to cover your mouth with your hand as soon as those words left your mouth.

What the hell are you even thinking? Lack of sex because of the heat shouldn't be a reason to fuck your stepbrother's best friend. And maybe you wouldn't mind San fucking you too, but that's a whole other story. Right now, your brain was feverishly searching for options for escape, but the way Wooyoung's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh made you focus all your attention on the awfully sexy guy right in front of you. His tongue came completely out of his mouth, only to run it slowly across his sensual lips. He was doing it on purpose; you were sure of it because this vixen knew exactly your weakness for his lips.

There was something special about boys with full lips; you know what they say: They eat pussy like champions, and maybe you wouldn't mind trying it out with Wooyoung.

"Mmm, how can I refuse when you offer so kindly, baby?" Wooyoung begins, squeezing your thigh harder as he moves closer to you. Your breathing becomes heavy as the thick, rich scent of his perfume infiltrates all your senses. His handsome face is now so close to you that you can clearly see the small mole on his lower lip. Oh shit, that was not good. "You have no idea how much I want to feel that mouth around my cock." The tone of his voice is husky and sultry, sending shivers of excitement through your body, or is it because Wooyoung wraps his hand around your cheek and runs his thumb over your lips? You don't even know what to say back, too lost in the feeling of his touch on you. The feeling of his hot breath on your parted lips makes your brain soft and fuzzy. God, if he kisses you, you're going to melt faster than ice and you won't be able to blame the hellishly high heat index any more. "But for now..." You whimpered softly into his mouth as his tongue slid over your lips. "I want you to sit on my face, princess, and ride on my tongue until you cum in my mouth." Your whole body felt as if it had been immersed in boiling water, the scorching heat of excitement coursing through your veins as he said this, and your hand gripped the back of Wooyoung's head, preventing him from pulling away from you.

"Please..." You whispered against his lips. Your breathing was heavy and damp, as if you had a fever, and you could feel the sweat beginning to run down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. But now you couldn't blame it on the abnormal summer heat; it was all Wooyoung's fault. He was the one who made you burn. And be that as it may, it was too hot outside for a cuddle, but it was perfect for a fuck.

"Damn, baby, come here." Wooyoung pushed himself off of you, and you followed him, throwing your legs over him so that you were now sitting on top of him. You arch your back and press yourself harder against him, the head of his cock sticking out from under the waistband of his sweatpants and touching your clothed pussy, making you moan. "You're very sensitive, aren't you?" Woo grins, all sly and devious. There's a devilish sparkle in his dark, foxy eyes, and his lips slowly curve into a wicked grin. He lifts his hips harder, pressing the head of his cock against your cunt, greedily swallowing your needy moans as your hips jerk at the slightest bit of stimulation he gives you. Wooyoung can't wait for his tongue to plunge into your wet pussy.

"Wooyoung..." You whine, sliding your hands down his chest and gathering the thin fabric of his sleeveless top in your fists. His skin is damp and glistening with sweat, so hot and as if lava rather than blood flows beneath it; his sugary brown nipples have hardened, and you have the urge to press your mouth to them and run your tongue around the silver metal of his piercings. Hell, how could you resist when the boy was hotter than hell?

"So needy, baby." Woo wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you up to his face to lick your open mouth. "Don't worry, Peach, I'll give you everything and more. I'll eat you until you pass out." Wooyoung says it like a promise. A statement made with all the arrogance and selfishness of a man who knows he can do it. "Let's get this off you, baby." His fingers cling to the waistband of your silk shorts, the veins on his forearms swelling seductively from tension, and the sight of them makes your mouth water.

Hot, so damn hot, you can't resist him. Foxy eyes sparkle as he pulls the shorts off your hips, moaning deeply when he sees that you're wearing nothing under those tiny shorts. You lift yourself up slightly to make things easier for him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders, the collar of his top wide enough to expose his sharp collarbones, and you can't help but press your mouth against them, licking greedily at his brackish skin. Wooyoung tastes like summer itself: sea breezes, the bittersweetness of a piña colada, passionate beach sex under a golden sunset. You moan into his skin, clinging to his shoulders, your fingers gliding lightly over damp skin, leaving red streaks.

"Shit..." Wooyoung throws his head back as you begin to suck, leaving a scarlet red mark on his skin. He tugs impatiently at your shorts until he pulls them completely off you and tosses them aside. His hands are immediately on your buttocks, squeezing the soft, plump flesh and pulling them wide apart.

The cool air from the fan kisses your heated centre, and you arch up into Wooyoung's arms, finally pulling away from his collarbone only to let your tongue run down the length of his thick, tense neck. The bulging veins pulsate beneath your tongue as you lick his neck and leave sloppy kisses with your open mouth on it.

"Mmm, I love what you do, baby, but I can't stand it any longer." He removes one hand from your arse, and instead of this tangling his fingers in your hair, he clutches the strands in his fist as he pulls your head away from his neck. You looked so fucked up already, with those swollen lips, that flushed, wet skin, and that unfocused look in your eyes. Fuck, you'd be the death of him. "So fucking beautiful." Wooyoung pulls you close to him for a kiss, followed by a hard slap on your bottom.

"Ah...Woo..." You scream at the force of his slap and feel the tender skin on your bottom begin to burn and tingle.

"Rise." Wooyoung commands you, and you obey. As soon as you give him enough room for movement, he slides to the floor and settles between your thighs. His head rests comfortably on the soft seat of the couch, nestled between your juicy thighs, and Wooyoung practically gasps to see your wet little cunt so close to his face. His cock throbs painfully, and Woo runs his hand through his grey sweatpants, squeezing it in his palm to ease the tension. "Enjoy the ride, peach." He says as he wraps his hands around your hips, kneading the flesh and finally pulling your labia apart so that your cunt is fully exposed to his hungry gaze.

He moans softly as he admires your beautiful pussy, so wet and swollen. It is so sticky and pink, like a ripe fruit—so sweet and delicious. Wooyoung's mouth fills with saliva, and he snarls through his teeth as he sees the thick, viscous drop of your slime dripping out of your pretty little hole. Fuck, he wants to see it all stretched out and gaping, quality fucked on his tongue, on his fingers, on his cock. He wants to fuck you stupid until you're a crying, drooling mess.

"That's it, baby, sit down." Wooyoung gasps, squeezes your thighs until they're bruised, and pulls you down onto his waiting tongue.

"Oh my God, Wooyoung!" You let out a loud moan and threw your head back as his tongue began to caress your pussy. His movements are skilled and expert, as he runs his long, hot tongue from your swollen clit to your hole, gathering up all the mucus that is leaking out of you and drinking it down as if it were water, and he was dying of thirst.

Your voluptuous thighs clenched around his head, your fingers tangling in his long, silky hair, tugging lightly on the strands as you rocked against his tongue and pressed your pussy even harder against his handsome face.

Wooyoung purred in endorsement, sending vibrations through your sensitive, heated centre, and you threw your head back, rolling your eyes in pleasure as you let out those beautiful little sobs. A beads of sweat rolled down your back as you rubbed your cunt against Wooyoung's tongue, and you could feel how your skin was tingling with the hot, lustful heat of it. The summer heat was scorching the city and causing people to avoid all touches, but right now all you wanted to do was burn up in Wooyoung's arms.

His grip on your thighs is almost painful, and every now and then Wooyoung slaps your bottom hard, making you stifle half-sobbing and making more sticky, sweet fluid leak from your hole onto his tongue.

"Feeling so good...shit, Wooyoung!"

"That's it, Peach; keep moaning for me." Woo growls, pushing his nose against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders at the new stimulation, and you louder scream Wooyoung's name as you pull harder on his long, silky hair.

He moans at this, burying his face even deeper between your thighs, his nose completely buried in your pretty cunt, the lack of oxygen mixed with the taste of you on his tongue making him dizzy, his cock twitching with excitement and leaking copiously with pre-ejaculate, leaving a wet stain on the front of his sweatpants. Your hips swayed in time to his tongue as you rubbed your wet pussy against his eager mouth, muffling his moans and growls. The thought crossed his mind: If he died now, suffocated by your sweet cunt, he would die happy.

"Please, Woo, I want your tongue. Please, I'm so empty. Fill me up with it, Daddy. Let me feel it inside of me; I need it so much." You moan, and Wooyoung, who is more than happy to oblige you, immediately pushes his tongue into your needy hole. The wet, warm sensation makes you both moan loudly. The tight walls of your slutty cunt contract around Wooyoung's tongue, trying to hold the long, slippery appendage inside as he penetrates deeper, pushing into the silky walls, causing you to release even more mucus, which now flows freely into his mouth.

"You're my baby girl. All this pretty cunt just for Daddy." Wooyoung moans as he kisses your pink pussy, catching his breath slightly. He feels like he's in heaven—you smell so paradisiacally, and you taste, hell, the best pussy he's ever tasted, and maybe Woo is already addicted to you. It's hard for him to let you go now that he's been in touch with the divine.

He takes a deep breath, intoxicated by your sweet, slutty cunt, clutches your sensitive clit as he envelops it with his plump lips, starts sucking hard on it, then soothes it with lazy tongue strokes.

"Ooooh... That, Lord..." You let out a loud and shameless moan, pulling Wooyoung by the hair and shivering with the whole of your body. You feel like you're on fire; all your senses are on edge; a sticky, tingling heat is kissing your skin. Every movement of Woo's skilful tongue as it slides between your folds is sending you deeper and deeper into a haze of pleasure.

You're so lost that you keep riding Wooyoung's face even when he moves away to catch his breath. You arch your back, throw your head back, and spin your slutty hips relentlessly in small circles. You rub your juicy cunt against Woo's stunningly beautiful, chiselled face, smearing your slime all over his cheeks and chin.

"I want...I want to cum. I want to be the best girl for you and squirt all over you...make me Daddy, make me cum. Please, I want it so bad." Your voice is cracked and hoarse; you're so close to orgasm. God, the hot sensation of a scalding knot of pleasure is getting tighter and tighter inside of you. Your hips begin to tremble. You lose your rhythm and let Wooyoung's strong hands guide your every move.

"How can I refuse you, Princess, when you ask so politely? Come on, baby, let's make you squirt." Wooyoung growls before he plunges his tongue as deep as he can into your pussy, moving it around in finely honed motions as he writes his name on the walls of your tiny, stretched-out cunt. He removes one of his hands from your thigh, only to slip it between your legs and pinch your swollen, trembling clit.

You squeal as you unconsciously bring your legs together and bury Wooyoung's face in your pussy. His fingers slide down your slit and gather up the slime before he begins to rub your clit with them in an aggressive manner as he continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue.

"Yes! Yes, oh my God. Wooyoung, I'm close, I'm close. I'm going to..." Your pussy pulsates around his tongue, the tender walls clenching together, almost preventing his movement. Your vision becomes blurred, your breathing heavy and hoarse as you feel the first waves of orgasm rolling over you at an unstoppable pace. A skilful pair of tongue movements and a sudden, painful squeeze of your clit between Wooyoung's fingers is all it takes to send you over the edge. You let out a loud squeal as your orgasm completely overwhelms you.

A stream of warm liquid fills Wooyoung's mouth and, despite his best efforts to drink it down, runs down his face and down his neck. Your delicate body shudders over him, your eyes rolling as the pleasure rips through your exhausted body. Your orgasm is so intense and overwhelming that you lose touch with reality for a few minutes as Wooyoung continues to prolong your orgasm, twisting his tongue inside you.

Exhausted, you lean back against the back of the couch and press your forehead, drenched in sweat, against the cool leather of the upholstery. Woo is licking his lips greedily, trying not to miss out on a single drop of your sweet juices. Ignoring his throbbing cock for this moment, he slowly climbs out from under you to help you. You sink onto the couch with your bare bottom, completely exhausted, and lean back against the soft upholstery as you tiredly cover your eyes, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Your eyes only open when you feel Wooyoung's strong hands spread your thighs again so he can have a look at your beautifully gaping cunt, still oozing with a mixture of his saliva and your sweet mucus. Woo leans over to you, only to press his tongue against your pussy once more and lick a long strip of it from your hole all the way to your flushed clit. You moan and push his shoulder, trying to get him to move away from your all-too-sensitive centre.

"Please... I can't take it anymore." You whine, and Wooyoung just grins at you. He crawls up the length of your body and wraps his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"You're so sweet, baby, I think I'm addicted. What are you going to do about it?" He whispers against your lips, and maybe if you were in a different situation you'd give his words more meaning, but instead you run your fingers through his sweaty hair and pull him to kiss you. You moan loudly, tasting yourself as his tongue enters your mouth, and you let Wooyoung lick your mouth on the inside completely.

When the kiss ends, you both take a moment to catch your breath. You lazily run your hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the fabric of his shirt clinging to his sweaty, heated skin. You probably don't look much better, just as sweaty and sticky as Wooyoung.

"Woo," you say, and he lifts his head to look at you with heavy, half-closed bedroom eyes.

"Mmm, what is that, Peach?" He starts to plant light kisses on your jaw, his lips still sticky with your cum.

"We need a shower; we're fucking disgusting." Your fingers run lazily through his hair as Wooyoung continues to kiss you.

"Fucked up, baby. We're fucking fucked." He corrects you. "But you're right, Peach, we need a shower." He gives you one last peck on the lips and gets up. "And maybe..." His voice trailed off, and you turned your head to the side in confusion, peering out from behind the back of the couch.

Your half-brother is leaning against the doorjamb, looking at the two of you with his beautiful cat eyes. His lips curve into a smile, revealing the deep dimples in his cheeks. San looks absolutely stunning, a perfect five-course meal; he's clearly just finished his workout, judging by the way his damp t-shirt clings to his perfectly sculpted body. Oh shit...

"Um, welcome back, Sannie..." You say awkwardly, already berating yourself for the stupid thing you just said. You cross your legs, trying to cover yourself, but it only draws his attention to your condition.

"I see Woo has taken good care of you in my absence; haven't you, Peach?" He asks, slowly walking over to you and Wooyoung as he pulls his sweaty t-shirt off over his head and exposing his perfect abs.

Oh shit.

Wooyoung laughs, takes your hand, and lifts you up, pulling you towards her, giving San a perfect view of your bare bum. You cringe, not knowing how to react in this situation, until you feel San's hot body pressing against your back, his broad palms resting on your waist.

"Mind if I join you in the shower, princess? I don't think you look fucked enough, baby. We need to fix that right now, don't we, baby?

#codn: summer24 #group: ateez #member: ateez wooyoung #genre: smut #trope: f2l #trope: fragment of life #wc: 5 10k #rating: mature #type: one shot #type: event

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merthurglompfest · 2 months ago

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Title: A Bouquet a Day By: Ravenwilds Gift for: Digthewriter Rating: General Word Count: 5,837 words Warning(s): None Summary: Five times Arthur is very unhappy about bouquets of flowers, and one time he's pleased about it. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63686386

#merlin #merthur #merlin fests #merthur glompfest #merthur glompfest 2025 #type: fanfic #rating: general #wc: 5 to 10k #glomper: ravenwilds #glompee: digthewriter

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cultofdionysusnet · 1 year ago

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Check out this Ateez fic written by Lilo!

the lamb and the wolf — park seonghwa

synopsis. all he wanted was someone to love in his dark, lonely world… and then you came along.

hades!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. strangers to lovers. fluff. smut. warnings. he’s literally obsessed with mc, ankle injury, alcohol consumption, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but it’s not really explicit, mc is described as innocent, explicit sexual content mdni, oral (f. receiving), unprotected, soft dom!hwa, praise, creampie. wc. 7.2k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ve been working on this for two-ish months and i’m so happy to finally share it. writing this was fun, i love writing men infatuated with their lovers <33 the letter he reads does not belong to me and comes from “Albert Camus, María Casares. Correspondence (1944-1959)” which is a collected of love letters sent between camus and casares. this particular one is letter #95.

playlist . . . from persephone, kiki rockwell // sunlight, hozier // liquid smooth, mitski // cinnamon girl, lana del rey // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex

masterlist.

the realm of the dead was terribly dark and cold and, as the name would suggest, barren of life. for seonghwa, the ruler of the underworld who had spent thousands of years in the realm, this hadn’t been a problem before. yet, he couldn’t deny the temptation of the distant sounds of chirping birds and gentle breezes humming through the air above.

he was, of course, free to leave whenever he wished to but more often than not he was busy—ruling over the souls that had passed or meetings with nymphs and the other deities. there had never been an inclination to explore, but somehow he found himself taking curious steps out of the cave entrance to his world.

and that’s where he saw you.

you weren’t a long way away from the entrance to the underworld, idling in a meadow and picking flowers and berries in a woven basket. the sunlight glinted off your rich skin, glistening on you manicured nails as your hands tended to the plants. the slow wind wafted through your soft-looking hair, making it dance in the air. he was entranced by the way the skirt of your dainty silk dress flowed as you moved around, hypnotised by the ivory fabric folding and brushing against your ankle with every step. you were beautiful in every sense of the word—but not the soft and comforting kind. no, not at all. in fact, he was quite alarmed by the notion of being so infatuated with a mortal at first glance.

seonghwa knew he was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on you. he wanted nothing more than for you to glance his way, willing to split himself in half or carve his heart right out of his chest to get a second of your attention. you spoke to yourself softly, muttering about how pretty you thought the little branch of lilac you plucked out of a bush was.

oh, how lovely your voice sounded; even the sun would not compare to it’s dulcet warmth.

a brilliant idea crossed his mind, one that he knew would get you to fall right in his grasp. and minutes later, he was able to conjure up a disturbingly realistic illusion of a rain storm. he descended back into his realm and all he had to do was wait.

you, however, flinched as the first droplets hit you. looking around for shelter, you spotted a cave entrance just a little way ahead, scrambling to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. the ground and walls felt cold against your body, nothing to separate your skin from the dark stone but your gown that was now soaked through and clung to your body.

minutes after you had sat down, a vaguely familiar scent breezed past you and had your head darting to look into the deeper part of the cave. there was no way it came from outside, not a single house in sight as the dewy smell of rain overtook the meadow. so your next most likely assumption was that it came from inside the cave. you stared into the seemingly endless abyss, squinting into the darkness for signs of, well, anything other than rocks and dirt.

and that’s when you saw it. a brief flickering flame, metres away from where you were sat. in the seconds that it lit, you could faintly make out what looked to be a staircase, descending further into a cave. an intrigued hum left you as you pushed yourself up from the ground and walked to the strange stairs, basket of berries and flowers left behind. there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was significantly colder as you stood at the top of the carved stairs, staring as far as you could see before they winded around and further into the unknown. another light came on, this time around the corner the stairs disappeared behind. with a final look at the exit of the cave, you began your unknowing descent into hell.

the light behind you flickered before going out, leaving you in darkness until you passed by the next torch, mounted on the damp stone. you planted your hand on the wall, afraid you’d lose your footing as each flame only lit the foreign path temporarily. the deeper you went, the colder you got. by the time you thought the stairs were endless, you could see faint puffs of white air emerging from your shaking lips with each breath you took. shivers ran through your body occasionally, your wet dress not doing anything to keep you warm.

just when you were going to give up and turn around to return to the surface, you stumbled at the unexpected absence of yet another step. your faint wince echoed through the small space as you rolled your ankle, instinctively holding yourself against the stone wall. your hand slipped from the wall for a second, a pebble falling and rolling until it stopped with an odd “clink.” you looked up in confusion to see what made the pebble stop with such a sound. looking with wide, bewildered eyes, a black and engraved set of double doors stood a few steps ahead of you. had they been there the whole time?

maybe someone lived there, someone who could help you. your father kept you safe and sound for as long as you could remember, teaching you to always see the best in people, rendering you a little sheltered and much too kind. perhaps this is what made you so trusting as you forced yourself to walk to the doors on limping legs. both doors had beautiful metal knockers mounted on them. the rusted brass resembled three dog heads, a heavy metal ring hanging from the snout of the dog in the middle. more than mildly nervous and with cold, shaking hands, you reached forward and tentatively lifted the ring of the right door before letting it knock against the dark wood.

moments later it swung open, held by a tall, pale-skinned man with slim fingers. for a moment you forgot what you were there for, caught off guard by the sharp eyes that looked down at you. your warm breath swirled in the air as you finally pieced together a sentence.

“i’m sorry, sir, but… i-i really meant to leave but i hurt my ankle…” you spoke quietly, your voice an octave higher than it usually was.

his gaze softened, the light of a torch on the wall reflecting in his dark eyes, and he smiled down at you as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “oh, you poor thing. please, come inside.”

seonghwa watched you walk past him and into this home he had conjured up just for your arrival. it was quite dark, illuminated by a fireplace and candelabras decorating shelves and tables. he didn’t care enough to provide more light, completely entranced by the way you kneeled in front of the hearth, hands outstretched to warm them by the fire. they looked so much smaller compared to his. seeing you up close made his heart skip a beat, he wanted nothing more than to lay his hands on your smooth skin, run them through your damp hair, pat the thin and wet flowing dress dry and keep you warm. droplets of the rain ran from the top of you head down your face slowly, occasionally getting caught in your eyebrows or the corner of your beautiful lips.

he wondered fleetingly if they felt as soft as they looked. another bead of rain made it past your features, trailing past your jawline and neck. his eyes tracked it but when it disappeared under the fabric covering your chest, he refused to continue looking.

you felt his presence standing beside you a moment later, drawing your eyes—your naïve, innocent eyes—to look up at him. he offered you a hand to help you stand.

“come, love, let me take a look at your ankle,” he smiled at you kindly, pulling you up helpfully as you took his hand. once you stood, you stumbled slightly, accidentally putting weight on your injured ankle and wincing. one of his arm quickly looped itself around your waist, holding you up against him so you wouldn’t fall.

his touch was gentle yet you felt a certain firmness to it, feeling as if his warm hand was searing through your cold gown. your cheeks burned and you looked away shyly, something that had him biting back a smile as he guided you to sit at one of the sofas. he was mildly surprised by how small and delicate you felt in his arms. you felt fragile. there was something so seductive about that, the thought of breaking you in the most intimate of ways. but soon he had to let you go. after you settled into the cushions of the seat, his movements caught your eye.

your jaw nearly dropped when you saw him kneeling on the ground before you. though you weren’t aware of it, something made you so special that you had a god getting on the ground on his knees in front of a mortal. his dark eyes found yours, voice as gentle as it had been the whole time.

“may i?”

when you gave him a small nod, not trusting yourself to say anything, his hand grazed your calf before gently wrapping around your ankle and lifting it to rest on his thigh. despite his intimidating and malicious role among the deities, he was softer with you than anyone could ever imagine. he slipped off your shoe but kept your sock on, dragging the ruffled trim just under your heel so he could inspect the swelling at your ankle. the ruffles tickled you as he moved it, eliciting the most melodic giggle he’d ever heard.

when he glanced up at you, a smile stretched your tempting lips and making your smooth cheeks swell as you looked back down at him. he couldn’t help but smile, endeared by everything you did.

“it tickles.” you explained through another giggle, looking down at him. as his gaze returned to your ankle, you took note of how close he was. if he leaned forward just a little he’d be able to brush his plump lips along your knees. he knew that, of course, since he planned it. every touch, every position, every word had been meticulously planned, it was no surprise to him how close be found himself.

well, other than you getting injured, everything had been planned.

his slender finger pressed against different areas of your swollen ankle with featherlight pressure, gauging where it hurt most. you winced occasionally, but a certain spot made you flinch and whimper.

“there?” he whispered, looking up at you. his gaze was still tender as he gazed at you, his fingers pressing against that spot again with just a little more pressure. you knew he needed to check if it was really that spot, but in reality he wanted nothing more than to hear those lovely sounds tumble from your lips. to his delight, you did just that, bottom lip quivering slightly with the sound as you nodded. his gaze fell to your lips and he imagined kissing you, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, but he refocused his thoughts on your injury quickly.

“how did you even hurt yourself like this?” his other hand moved to the knee of your uninjured leg, thumb brushing small circles soothingly.

“i missed a step on the stairs and rolled my ankle.” you frowned slightly, the cute downturn if the corners of your lips almost making him coo at you. you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of your ankle but it was hard to see in the dim light provided by the fireplace and various candelabras around on shelves.

“i see… how careless of you, dear,” he tutted, fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly, “but it’s okay, don’t worry. it’s just a small injury… wait here for a moment while i go get something, alright?”

you nodded once more and he got up, disappearing through a doorway as your eyes traced over his figure. you looked around the room as you waited patiently. it was a simple sitting room slash entrance area at first glance, but upon looking closer you found there were many little breathtaking details littered around for those who cared enough to find them. intricately embroidered golden designs decorating the wine red carpet beneath your feet, the shelves lining the wall on either side of the fireplace stocked with worn books neatly.

silent brisk steps drew your eyes back to him as the handsome stranger returned, a little glass bottle and roll of bandages held in his hands. his cheeks warmed at the sight of you sitting there so pretty and obediently. seonghwa kneeled in front of you once again and brought your foot to the same position as before.

“i’m going to apply this,” he held up the bottle for you to see, a mysterious deep blue liquid swishing around inside, “it’ll be cold and it might hurt a bit, but i promise to be gentle, okay?” after you nodded silently, he uncapped the bottle and poured a bit into his hand. “i’ll need you to stay still and relax. can you do that for me, love?”

after you gave him a muttered ‘yes’ he flattened his palm over the swelling. true to his word, the liquid he had poured into his hand was icy cold and stung a little as he rubbed it in as gently as possible. if you had to describe the feeling, you’d compared it to hundred of pinpricks concentrated on one area. it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

your eyes squeezed shut and your hands dug into the couch beneath you. you felt his touch leave your knee but a second later his hand found it’s way to yours, slipping between your fingers for you to hold him instead of tearing up his couch. he squeezed reassuringly and his heart swelled when you squeezed back.

before you knew it, his warm voice filled the silence of the room. “all done. you can open your eyes now, darling, you did so well.”

you eyes opened slowly at his words and looked down. he was peering up at you with round caring eyes, making your stomach flutter. his hand on your ankle lingered before he pulled away so you could have a look at the bandages wrapped around it skilfully, his other hand still intertwined with yours.

“thank you…?” you trailed off, indirectly asking for his name. despite him being a stranger, you somehow trusted this handsome man with your life. perhaps it was because he had shown you nothing but kindness thus far, every one of his actions illuminating warmth and care.

“of course. the ointment works fairly quickly, so you should be free to walk around just fine for a few hours at least,” his lips tugged into a small grin. he thought you were so cute, too shy to be upfront about your interest in him.

he wasn’t blind, your increased heart rate below his touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. for a moment, he considered lying to you—introducing you to an identity that didn’t exist in fear that you’d run away from him once he revealed himself. however, soon enough he came to the conclusion that he wanted you to love him, not some made up caricature. besides, he didn’t have to tell you about his occupation just yet. “it’s seonghwa.”

you tested the syllables on your tongue and he could’ve sworn honey poured right out of your mouth with how sweet you sounded. he nodded encouragingly and you gave him your name. he decided it fit you and your serene disposition. you watched with a warming face as he lifted your hand to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he kissed your knuckles.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.” he winked smoothly before standing from the ground, pulling you off the couch with him. his eyes glanced down at your dress. it was still wet but not nearly as drenched as it was before, though it still clung to your body, teasing him. “you must be uncomfortable. if you want, i probably have a change of clothes for you.”

you smiled at his invitation gratefully, nodding. “i’d love that, thank you.”

“down that hall,” he pointed in the direction he went earlier to get that odd liquid, “the second door on the right is a bedroom. you’ll find some clothes in the closet, i think they’ll fit you.”

you took a step towards the hall before stopping and turning around to look at him with a questioning gaze. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were thinking. he fumbled to find a convincing excuse, speaking slowly. “my, uh, sister used to live with me but she moved away recently, so her clothes are still there.”

the explanation satisfied you and he watched as you followed his instructions, eyes drawn to the way you hips swayed slightly with each step. you stepped through the door he told you to, yellow candlelight seeping into the hallway before you closed it behind you. but it didn’t close fully and left you visible through the sliver. he forced his eyes away when he caught a glimpse of you pulling your gown off yourself.

just as he said, you found many suitable clothes in the shelves of the wooden dresser. the room itself was quite plane, though the bed looked more than comfortable. there were many options, though all of them seemed to be dresses of some kind. long or short, dark or pastel, silk or cotton, and everything in between. finally you settled on a flowy white nightgown, the skirt brushing against your thighs. you pulled on some clean socks and slippers and dried your hair as best you could with a towel you found before stepping out to join him in the sitting room again.

but when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. looking around in confusion, you breathed a sigh if relief when you heard him call your name for another room, beckoning you to join him. upon entering said room, it quickly became apparent it was a dining room.

the walls were practically black, much like the rest of the house so far, and made the room appear much darker than it probably actually was despite the multiple candelabras on the long wooden table and the extravagant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. he sat at the chair on the left of the head of the table, a meal set in front of the head. he gestured for you take a seat in front of it. you obliged quickly.

his eyes roamed over your figure, lips parting in a soft exhale at the sight of your bare thighs. fleetingly, he came to the conclusion he wanted to bury his head between them, let them squeeze and suffocate him as he ravished you. before he could further entertain those thoughts, the squeak of the chair brought him out of his head.

“i figured you’d be hungry, so i made a little something for you,” he spoke as you got comfortable in the seat, pushing a glass of water towards you, “i hope it’s up to your standards, dear.”

you gazed down at the bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup with vegetables before looking back up at him. “you’re too kind, really, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

he was more than delighted by your kindness and manners, looking at him so cutely with the candlelight dancing in your eyes magically. “no but i did have to. i can’t have you sitting here, injured and starved… plus, it’s nice to have company.”

“oh?” his final sentence piqued your interest, fiddling with the handle of your spoon. “you don’t get a lot of company?”

he really didn’t, other than the souls that made down here after their bodies passed on. but that’s a conversation for another time. he shook his head slightly, lifting a glass of wine you hadn’t noticed before to his lips. he let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it and returning his gaze to you.

“not very often, no…” he explained slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink before folding his hands beside it, elegant as ever, “people don’t tend to come all the way down here and i don’t tend to invite people over.”

a frown tugged at you lips and you turned your gaze away, feeling slightly ashamed. “i’m sorry to have bothered your peace then, seonghwa.”

he tensed, hands gripping each other just a little tighter. why on earth were you ashamed, why were you apologising? he reached over and placed a hand over your free one, momentarily distracted by how soft it felt in his grip before he was quick to reassure you. “oh no, darling, don’t you dare apologise. you’re not bothering me at all, really. it’s been a long time since i’ve enjoyed someone’s company this much.”

“r-really?” you finally looked at him again, the warmth returning to his stomach as he faintly noticed one of the straps threatening to fall off your shoulder.

“really,” he reaffirmed, turning your hand over so he could hold it properly, “i should be thanking you, if anything.”

you averted your gaze once again, this time feeling shy rather than ashamed; a fact that had him grinning. soon enough, you began eating your soup, humming at the taste approvingly after the first taste. you conversed leisurely as you ate, jumping from subject to subject naturally as if you’d known each other for years. you asked him why he wasn’t eating with you, to which he said he’d already eaten and didn’t feel hungry. this was, of course, a lie since deities like him don’t need to eat anyway.

eventually, you finished, slumping back in your seat with a yawn. “that was absolutely amazing. thank you, hwa.”

the new nickname had his cheeks tinting a soft pink but he hid it quickly. he watched you yawn. somehow everything you did felt adorable to him, the urge to scoop you up in his arms to hold you tightly and kiss you softly growing stronger by the second. if he weren’t a man with unrivalled self-restraint and patience, he would’ve done it by now.

“someone’s tired, huh?” he cooed at you, crossing one leg over the other. “you should go sleep in the room you got the clothes from. i’d prefer for you to stay until your ankle is fully healed, just in case.”

you nodded slowly, another yawn ripped from your throat as you got up and stretched your arms over your head. the movement caused the skirt of your nightgown to ride up, his breath hitching as he realised if it went up any further head be able to see your lacy white undergarments you’d borrowed from the dresser too. he distracted himself with a chuckle, standing up and guiding you out of the dining room to the bedroom by the small of your back.

before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed of the bedroom that supposedly belonged to his sister. your dress fell over your body entrancingly, tempting his hungry eyes as he stood over you, adoring the way your hair laid on the satin pillow. you turned to your side and curled up with your knees pulled to your chest. he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties before they fell over the swell of your ass as if they hadn’t moved in the first place.

thoughts swarmed his mind, none of them appropriate. he imagined your legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself into the curve of your neck, sculpted for his face to fit right there. he longed to feel your soft curves against his fingers, not a single layer of clothing separating you.

“hwa?” the way you said his name made his thoughts snap to reality as his eyes found yours. the nickname sounded so wonderful with your voice, he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it safe on a shelf for the rest of eternity. not only that, but the way you looked at him, lips parted softly with small breaths, cheeks flushed, and eyes looking wide and innocent. oh, how innocent you smelled to him. he was torn between preserving it and corrupting it.

“yes, love?” he whispered back, brushing a strand of your hair from you face as casually as possible.

“thank you… for everything,” you whispered, peering up at him with those same glittering round eyes, “i’ll be sure to repay you for your kindness when i can.”

“there’s no need, really. it’s nothing,” he chuckled quietly, gaze flitting all over your features—you fluttering eyelashes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your neck, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips. he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him, he shouldn’t get too attached just yet.

somehow, he held himself back from pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless. he pulled his hand back after letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone for a moment.

“i’ll let you rest now,” he whispered, “sleep well. i’ll see you in the morning, love.”

you muttered a soft ‘goodnight, hwa’ in return before he was out of the room and shutting the door a second later.

the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps getting more and more distant. you let out another quiet yawn, pulling the comfortable blanket over your body and up to your chin. your room was quiet, the silence oddly comforting. something about the place had that feel and despite being so far underground, it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. you compared it to home, your parents always bickering with each other or taking out their frustrations on you. it felt nice to be in a quiet space again, and you briefly wondered if you could stay a little longer than another day.

your eyelids became heavier with each blink in the dark before they ultimately closed completely, pulling you into a deep sleep.

though you didn’t expect it to last so long, over a week passed and you were still staying with him in his little cave house. you didn’t mind, of course, since he took such great care of you. in the week, you’d grown closer, treating each other like lovers though neither of you brought it up. he’d let you sit in his lap and you’d let him brush his fingers through your hair.

you stirred awake, one day short of having spent two weeks with him. today was one of those days where he’d gone out to run some errands, trusting you enough to leave you alone. with not much to do, you usually sat in his little library or took a nap until the evening. this time you chose the latter.

some hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, your blanket displaced and only covering half of your left leg, having kicked it off in your sleep. for a second you couldn’t remember where you were, but memories of the previous days returned quickly and you relaxed before sitting up and looking around the room. the candle had stayed on overnight, providing light in a place where windows really couldn’t exist.

there was no indication of the time other than a clock on one of the bedside tables. assuming it was functional and accurate, it was 10:24 in the evening. you hummed, surprised you’d slept so much when usually you’d be awake hours before that. with a quiet groan, you realised there was no point in going back to bed, pulling yourself off the mattress and to the door.

you reached for the door handle but paused, pulling back to check yourself in the mirror. not wanting to look like a mess in front of seonghwa, you readjusted your dress so it sat on your body properly and tried your best to make your hair appear less messy. only then did you tiptoe your way out of your bedroom and to the sitting room.

he was back already, sat on the couch and readings a book, back straight and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. he wore something different. instead of the loose white shirt, black briefs and black corset, he now wore a black vest that had sheer black sleeves with black briefs. the neckline of his vest dipped low, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. you forced yourself to look away, settling into the armchair across from him, separated by a long coffee table.

“i don’t bite, you know,” he spoke without looking up from his book, sounding amused that you sat so far away after how close you’d been the night before.

your daze cracked, chuckling as you stood and walking around the coffee table to sit beside him on his right. though you weren’t touching, a few centimetres of space between you, you could feel his body heat radiating off him. he glanced down at your exposed thighs briefly before continuing to read, or at least trying to. his eyes were stuck on the same line for a minute, distracted by the way you leaned your head on his shoulder to read with him.

he contemplated pulling you onto his lap, missing the feel of your weight against him like the night before. you had insisted for him to carry you to bed, pouty and tired, and when he did, he had a hard time letting go of you and ended up sitting with his back against the headboard with you snuggled safely on his lap until you fell asleep.

knowing you wouldn’t mind, he moved his right arm around your waist, slipping his hand down to your hip to make pulling you onto his lap easier. once you were there, straddling him so prettily, he let you rest the side of your he’s don his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck as he tried his best to maintain his focus on his book. to the world he was a merciless king, but with you in his lap he was tender and caring.

you shifted your head, trying to look down at the book he was reading. your breath tickled him as you spoke. “what’re you reading?”

“oh,” he turned the book over for you to see the title. he let you read over, revelling in the feeling of your nose and lips accidentally grazing his neck. it tested every inch if his patience. feeling your heart beat against his chest and wanting so desperately to crawl into your ribcage, cradling your heart in his hands and peppering the beating muscle with kisses. he cleared his throat. “it’s a collection of poe and and letters.”

“you like poetry?” you giggled quietly and he swore he could taste the sweetness of it.

“i do,” he nodded, the tips of his ears dusted a rosy pink, “would you like me to read some to you?”

the offer made you feel giddy for some reason, glancing up at him with a grin as you nodded. you could only imagine how poetry would sound spoken by his divine voice.

seonghwa snickered at your excitement, flipping through the pages of his book to find something worthy for your ears. he stopped at a page near the end, his hand dropping back to your hip as he began reading. he traced a finger over your hipbone as he did, the light pressure making you squirm lightly in his lap.

“i have never surrendered myself entirely to anyone but you, and only recently. and to let my heart speak, when i am pressed against you, is an emotion and a peace that overflows all imagination.”

by the time he finished reading it, you were holding your breath, heart hammering against your ribs so hard you had no doubt he’d be able to feel it. the way he said it sounded less like a recitation and more like a confession, your stomach buzzing with anticipation as you sat up to look at him face to face, eye to eye, your hands resting on his chest.

your touch drove him to insanity. the soft press of your fingers against his vest, making it that much harder to hold himself back. he wanted to hold you against him forever. to inhale your scent so that his lungs would depend on you and only you. to touch you, to kiss you, to knit your flesh to his so you’d never leave him, to devour you, consume you. he wanted to do it all.

he could only whisper, “may i?”

his words echoed what he said before tending to your ankle two weeks prior, the day you fire timer him. that felt so long ago, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

his hand squeezed you hip gently while the other moved to cup your jaw, wasting no time in pulling your face to his. it was a slow, reverent kiss that filled every inch of your senses with warmth. your lips felt softer than he imagined. when your lips finally touched, your fingers curled into his vest, sighing against his lips softly.

he shuddered at the sound, pulling your hips tighter against him and pressing his lips against yours a little harder, your body perfectly milder to his as if that’s where you belonged. his tongue ran along your bottom lip, not pushing into your mouth, just tasting you enough to satiate his growing hunger. despite the way your hips rolled against him, guided by his hand and eliciting subtle gasps against his lips, he couldn’t help but still find you so sweet, so innocent, as you let him kiss you breathless.

in a way, you reminded him of a little lamb, hunted by a wolf. one could say you had tamed him. he could easily tear out your throat, add you to his collection of souls, yet he decided to kiss you instead. kiss you so softly your cheeks warmed.

the next time your eyes fluttered open, you somehow found yourself in your room, still on his lap as he sat on the edge. his kisses slowed, being replaced with repeated pecks before he pulled away fully to ready his forehead against yours, panting.

he sighed your name and for a second you felt the world stop, the sound making your head spin. “darling, please, let me taste you.”

your breath hitched at his whispered request, suddenly aware of your panties sticking to your wet core. wordlessly, you nodded and he manoeuvred you to lay on your back, making sure your head rested on your pillow comfortably.

he kissed your forehead, then your lips. from the he kissed his way further down over your nightgown—your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, the valley of your breast, your stomach, hipbones, the top of your pelvis—all the while murmuring praises of how beautiful you were. his hands rested on your waist and moved down to your thighs, spreading them apart without resistance as he kneeled between them.

with a final look at your curious face, looking down and following his every action with your eyes, he dragged the end of your skirt up, revealing more and more of your smooth thighs and baby blue cotton panties. he thought they were cute as he let the dress bunch up at your waist, leaning down to kiss the little satin bow of your undergarments before hooking his finger through them.

he began dragging them down but stopped abruptly when you place a hand over his own, worried eyes darting to look at you. all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop.

“no one has ever… you know,” you blushed, to shy to say no one had ever eaten you out, only giving your lower half a meaningful glance.

relieved, he chuckled lowly and kissed the hand atop his. “you know i’ll be careful, darling. just relax, okay?”

once you relaxed as he told you to, he slipped his fingers between yours, using his other hand to slip your underwear down and off you, tossing them in a random direction before finally taking a look at the parts of you he craved the most. he nearly moaned at the sight of your pink folds, glistening in the dim light as your engorged clit begged for his attention.

leaning down to kiss your inner thighs first, his tongue slid between your folds, licking an experimental stripe from your whole to your clit, drawing a soft whine. he himself groaned at the taste, the sweet nectar that seeped from your body.

“fuck, you taste so good.”

your thighs quivered around his head as he pushed his face deep into your heat, lapping up your juices and sucking at your nub with the desperation of a starved man. each prod of his tongue had your breath shaking, whimpering, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. before, you figured it would feel good, but not quite this delicious.

when you came, you came with a faint cry of his name, body arching of the bed. your hand that didn’t hold his moved to his hair at some point during his meal, tugging softly as your juices gushed out and you twitched from overstimulation, his tongue unrelenting and determined to swallow every last drop of your release.

he pulled away as you tugged at his hair, moving his torso up your body to kiss you. it was less a kiss and more feverish presses against each other, his tongue wandering between your teeth and making you taste yourself. you couldn’t taste much, but to his sensitive taste buds you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

his hips pressed against yours and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his erection straining against his pants and nudging your aching clit. he pulled back from your lips, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. but you only nodded encouragingly and he grinned, his lips moving to your neck as he helped you sit up so he could pull your dress off you and finally see everything he’d been fantasising about.

he detached his lips from your pulse point to pull it the rest of the way and toss it in a random direction, his eyes trained on your breasts. they were just as pretty as he imagined, nudging you to lay down again so he could take one erect nipple into his mouth and suck and lick and kiss it and around it.

“you look so pretty right now, love,” he muttered against your skin as he kissed his way to your other breast, his hands working on releasing himself from his pants and yours unbuttoned his vest, hands shaking with want.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against your pillow, your fingers gripping onto his bare shoulders as he dragged his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness. he kissed your cheek.

“tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

only once you breathed an ‘okay’ did he begin pushing in. he was blessed with a cock so big and perfect it hit every sensitive spot in your walls with precision as his length filled you slowly. his tip alone had you gasping softly, moaning incoherently as your eyes rolled back and fell shut, the stretch somehow pleasing you.

when he bottomed out, his eyes were drawn to the way he could see himself pressing through the bottom of your stomach, groaning as he passed his hand over the area and felt the bump. he stiller inside you, not moving until you told him so.

“p-please move, hwa.”

his pace throughout was relaxed, slow but not painfully slow, just enough roughness to his grinds to leave you breathless without tipping you over the edge just yet. it was when his hand slipped under your waist and angled you differently that you began feeling the familiar knot tighten in your abdomen.

he had a hard time stopping himself from releasing the moment he entered you, your walls hugging him so perfectly he choked back a moan with each stroke. everything about you felt as if you’d been made for him to worship, for him to indulge in. before you had come along, there was that occasional craving of romance, of wanting someone. he longed for someone to hold his hand, whose eyes replied to his.

and there you were, beneath him, squeezing one of his hands while your dilated pupils showed him just how much you wanted him too.

you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your sounds, something that made his chuckle and kiss the bridge of your nose. “don’t be ashamed, i want to hear you.”

his quiet praises made your face warm, letting out the softest of moans as his words shot straight to your core.

“you take me so well, love.” “you’re so precious and all mine.” “keep your eyes on me, darling.”

at some point his deep slow strokes grew needy and faster, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly as moans and whimpers of the two of you filled the room, hot breaths mingling with each other. your next orgasm crashed down on your with little warning, your walls squeezing around him as he muffled your sounds with his lips.

he came soon after that, filling you with his release after you had told him it was okay. his face dropped into the crook of your neck, cock twitching until his body slumped against yours.

after cleaning you up with a damp towel and slipping a new pair of panties over your legs, he joined you in bed once more and wrapped his arms around you. your legs tangled together and your chest pressed against his, your head tucked under his chin as you drifted back to sleep, lazy kisses placed onto the crown of your head.

he sighed softly and shut his eyes, filled with thoughts. now that he’s had you, he could hardly see himself letting go of you. but why would he? you were all he wanted and more.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#group: ateez #member: ateez seonghwa #genre: smut #genre: fluff #trope: s2l #au: hades/persephone au #wc: 5 10k #type: one shot #rating: mature

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merthurglompfest · 2 months ago

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Title: Nobody's Promised Tomorrow By: Cithara Gift for: a13merlinfan Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 3,336 words Warning(s): None Creator Notes (Optional): This was written for GlompFest 2025 and a13merlinfan's prompt to build upon the season 4 episode His Father's Son. I hope you think I did the prompt justice 💞 Huge thanks to my lovely beta thesongistheriver for all her wonderful help. I hope you all enjoy the fic. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated. Summary: As Arthur navigates the difficulties and complexities of being king, Merlin watches and feels the distance growing between them. When Arthur executes Caerleon at Agravaine's urging, Merlin knows that it is more important than ever to remain by Arthur's side and remind him of the importance of the bond they share. A re-write of Season 4 Episode 5 His Father's Son. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63868261

#merlin #merthur #merlin fests #merthur glompfest #merthur glompfest 2025 #type: fanfic #rating: teen and up #wc: 5 to 10k #glomper: cithara #glompee: a13merlinfan

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

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(not so) simple masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

status: complete!

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.

featuring fake dating/courtship, minor rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining that they think is unrequited, slowish burn, hurt/comfort, a signature bridgerton happily ever after, and my blood sweat and tears!

total wc: 44,497

overall warning(s): historical inaccuracies, period typical misogyny, implied/referenced sexual harassment -- individual, more specific warnings on each chapter. reader is referred to with the last name worthing for convenience

part 1 ↳ 10k words | miss worthing makes an awful sort of proposal to the viscount bridgerton.

part 2 ↳ 7.1k words | miss worthing despises and enjoys the viscount bridgerton's company in equivalence.

part 3 ↳ 9.7k words | miss worthing has a terrible realization.

part 4 ↳ 7.6k words | the viscount has a revelation and miss worthing decides against her heart.

part 5 ↳ 9k words | miss worthing and the viscount find themselves at a crossroads.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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merthurglompfest · 2 months ago

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Title: you fill up my senses like a night in a forest By: SlantedKnitting Gift for: Violetcarson Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 8,921 words Warning(s): canon-typical violence & minor injuries, kidnapping Summary: When the Knights of the Round Table go missing, one by one, Merlin and Arthur are determined to find them. Merlin’s magic, on the other hand, is determined to pull him into nature. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64373557

#merlin #merthur #merlin fests #merthur glompfest #merthur glompfest 2025 #type: fanfic #rating: teen and up #wc: 5 to 10k #glomper: slantedknitting #glompee: violetcarson

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cultofdionysusnet · 1 year ago

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Check out this Ateez fic written by Alyssa!

for love of the game

pairing: pitcher! wooyoung x batter! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, best friends to fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

w.c: 5k (2k words of plot bc i can ✨ the rest is filth tho i promise <3)

warnings: tobacco/vape usage, nasty mean-ish dom! wooyo, perverted subby puppyboy! yuyu, bratty bitch in the streets, subby slut in the sheets! reader, yuyu has a horsecock, implied brat taming, brief choking, mxm, one single slap and spank, cuckholding, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, brief breath play, oral (giving/receiving), yuyu sucks cock, thigh fucking, cum eating, deep-throating, spit kink, hair tugging, breeding kink (would it be a kitten4sannie fic without it? idt so 💅🏼), unprotected sex, creampies, dumbification

a/n: hey batter, batter~~ ughhh i’ve been itching to write this every since they went to their first dodger game 🥺 i had an unusual amount of fun writing this as you’ll be able to tell eeheheheh (≧∀≦) anygaysss i hope you enjoy this hater x hater x nasty bsf fantasy ✨

song recs: siren by ateez - new girl by finneas - knock me out by miyavi - heaven and back by chase atlantic

“You ready for today’s game, Y/N?” Yunho, your teammate and closest personal friend outside of baseball, asked you inquisitively, one of his large hands rubbing into the tense muscle of your shoulder, using the other to send a tactical text message to someone.

When you weren’t training, working out, or competing in your college team’s playoff games, you were hanging out in Yunho’s frat house, watching him get his ass handed to him in League. You both had a simple, easy going relationship, one that consisted of chill kickbacks and drunken shenanigans, with the occasional exchange of longing glances, lingering touches, and perhaps an adrenaline induced fuck or two, or three before and adfer one of your games — but who were you to decipher what your relationship status was? You had your future career to focus on.

“Am I ready? Yun, I came out the pussy ready for this fucking game,” you replied vulgarly, bringing your water bottle up to your lips to take a few sips, smiling crookedly up at your tall friend over the shoulder he was keenly massaging.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Yunho chimed proudly, shoving his phone into his back pocket so that he could use both of his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to loosen up your muscles with his long, slender fingers.

“I’m not your baby, but maybe I would be if you stopped solo-queuing as Braum every time you hop on League.” You couldn’t help but let out a few groans from the pressure he was using on you, hoping that his massage would aid you in the powerful swings you would have to make during the next seven innings. “I’m tired of watching you get ass fucked every round.”

“You wanna go for a few rounds next time then? I wouldn’t mind watching you get wrecked,” Yunho mumbled into your ear, glancing across the dugout at the other team, before he let go of you and sat down next to his rowdy teammates, joining in on the competition to see whose thighs could take up the most space on the crowded bench.

“Yeah, I bet, you degenerate. Oh, you know what else you can watch?” you retorted, pretending to reach into one of your pockets and pulling out nothing, simply holding your middle finger up to Yunho. Your best friend quickly mirrored your unique display of affection, leading the both of you to giggle and smile at each other for a little too long, before you decided to sit down as well and conserve your energy.

During the typical pre-game announcements, you found yourself not being able to get comfortable like you usually could. It was off-putting, to say the least. There was nothing unusual going on. The sky was nice and clear, the wind blew a cool breeze across the exposed skin of your neck, right in between your pulled-up hair and the collar of your softball uniform. Your teammates were all stretching their limbs, shooting the shit, eagerly chewing nicotine gum, or spitting out tobacco juice into empty water bottles. All was right in the world, yet you couldn’t seem to stop bouncing your thigh, your cleats repeatedly digging deeper marks into the dirt below. That was when you felt the intensity of someone’s eyes boring into you.

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself.

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses.

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?”

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?”

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.”

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.”

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, unless hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it out of the playoffs.”

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago.

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face.

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites. She…does a lot of things.”

Wooyoung hummed in response, smiling like he knew something no one else did, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to his teammates who smiled back at him, then back up at Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she?”

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the love bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, a good boy, if you will, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right?

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand of Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.”

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-filled determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?”

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to put that pretty slut in her place.”

The first locker in your sight was the main recipient of your bubbling anger, the side of your bat making contact with the metal, incidentally leaving an indent. “Motherfucker!” you shouted to no one inside the empty women’s locker room, tossing the bat down the long hallway, not bothering to watch it roll along the ground until it was stopped by someone’s dusty cleat.

You threw your baseball cap into your crowded locker along with your balled up, button-up shirt once you pulled it off of your torso. You then pressed your hands into the cool metal, staring at your angry, sweaty reflection in the locker door mirror, huffing and puffing. “How could you strike out to a bitch like him? Do better,” you told yourself, your hands forming fists.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, making his presence known, taking slow steps down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, happily chewing on a piece of gum. “I knew you were a sore loser, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Are you lost, Wooyoung? This is the women’s locker room, and last time I checked you don’t have a pussy,” you spat in his direction, reaching down to unbutton your pants.

“You wanna check for me, baby? I might not be hung like Yunho, but I’ll still be able to pump you full of cum. A slutty little cleat chaser like you would love that, huh?” Wooyoung mused vulgarly, leaning against the lockers, lowering his tinted glasses to leer at your half-naked body.

You didn’t look at Wooyoung for too long, knowing you might kill him, or fuck him raw, if you did, now that jealousy-fueled rage was flowing through your veins.

A shower would probably help cool you down. Help you think straight. A nice, thick cock drilling into you wouldn’t solve all your problems, but it sure would help, even if it was your sworn enemy who was servicing you. Instead of replying, you simply shimmied out of your tight, dust-covered pants and stepped out of them, bringing a foot up onto the bench to stretch out your sore, bruise-ridden legs, deeply annoyed that you slid to so many bases just to lose anyway.

Wooyoung’s throat ran dry, his gaze suddenly fixated on the g-string that formed to the curves of your hips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down upon the sight of the thin string tightly cupping your cunt as you bent down to massage your fingers into your thighs and calves. “Fuck, is that a thong? You usually don’t wear anything…”

“What does it look like, dumbass?” you snapped, before turning on your heels in the opposite direction, looking back at him over your shoulder. Chuckling softly at the tent that formed inside his pants, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it drop to the floor, prior to heading into the open shower room, very aware of the fact that Wooyoung was following close behind you like a eager, drooling puppy, smirking at the sounds of shuffling and grunting, the pitcher’s clothes hitting the tile floor on the way. Wooyoung talked a big game, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, and you took pride in knowing you had that power over him, even if you didn’t have it on the field.

“Hey, does having something rubbing against your pussy help you play better, Y/N? Or do you just like getting wet in front of all those men like the whore you are?” Wooyoung asked near your ear, watching you turn the shower handle to the right until a steady stream of warm water began to pour onto the both of you, waiting for you to turn around so that he could slip his twitching fingers under the thong straps that clung to your hips and pulled them up just to watch your pussy lips slip out past the thin material, making the pitcher groan.

“Did you come here just to slut shame me, Wooyoung?” You pressed your back into the cold tile wall behind you, goosebumps forming on your bare, heated skin, looking up at him past your wispy lashes, an amalgamation of intense hatred and lust sitting just beneath the surface of your piercing gaze. “Or did you come here to fuck me?”

Wooyoung groaned at your bold words, pressing one of his hands onto the wall near your head, the other cupping your slick cunt, his lips just barely ghosting yours. “I didn’t just come here to fuck you, princess. I came here to ruin you.”

“Then, ruin me,” you reiterated, grabbing Wooyoung by a tuft of his wet hair, your teeth and tongues clashing together in an instant.

Once Wooyoung was satisfied with the amount of spit he had swallowed, he pulled back, simply placing one hand on the top of your head and forcefully pushing you down until you got the hint.

You were mad at yourself for being unable to resist getting on your knees for a cocky prick like Wooyoung, so you simply glared up at him, trying to pretend you didn’t notice his stiff, thick cock standing at attention in front of your face. “When I said ruin me, I meant my cunt. You think I’m just gonna suck you off because you pushed my head down? It’s bold of you to assume I won’t bite.”

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N. I won today, so I deserve special treatment, don’t I?” Wooyoung argued, squinting his eyes at you once you began grimacing up at his erection, his fingers wrapping around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. “Maybe if you didn’t strike out so many times, I would be the one on my knees, devouring that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Shut the fuck up…” you murmured, squeezing your thighs together, not understanding why someone like Wooyoung had so much power over you.

“That’s not very nice of you to say, princess.” Wooyoung reached down with his free hand to hold the base of his cock, tapping the leaking tip against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them in the process. “How about we put that dirty mouth of yours to better use, yeah?”

Afraid he was late to the show after being forced to do an interview with the local college, Yunho quickly made his way into the women’s locker room, almost slipping on the bat you left on the floor as he followed the sounds of breathy groans, gurgled moans, and running water that were echoing from the showers. He almost fell to his knees at the sight of his best friend taking cock down her throat. You were a complete mess, streaks of mascara running down your flushed cheeks, strands of milky saliva dribbling down past your swollen lips, along your bulging throat, and onto your tits, your nose routinely making contact with Wooyoung’s pelvis. Yunho didn’t even know you could deep-throat cock with so much ease.

Leaning against the opposite side of the shower room, Yunho desperately began to palm at his stiff, leaking length through the gray loose sweatpants that hung loosely from his hips, his cheeks and ears growing red once he caught your teary gaze.

You reached in between your trembling thighs, trying to relieve the deep ache inside your dripping cunt by filling it with two of your fingers, letting out a choked moan when Wooyoung roughly smacked the side of your cheek.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You’re my cocksleeve right now. You don’t get to play with your cunt, dumb whore,” Wooyoung grunted, letting go of your hair to pinch your nose when you wouldn’t stop finger-fucking yourself, keeping his cock lodged deep inside your throat, cutting off your only source to oxygen.

“M-mmnfff…!” you whimpered, your brain starting to feel delightfully fuzzy around the edges, getting an instant head high from not being able to breathe. You waited until the very last second to stop playing with yourself, suddenly grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips and squeezing them tightly, begging him for mercy with your watery eyes.

Wooyoung immediately pulled his cock out of your mouth and slapped it down onto your face as a further attempt to humiliate you in front of your friend. “What a dirty slut…” He began to jerk himself off, rubbing his reddened cockhead against your parted lips. “I want you to listen to me. Once I cum inside your mouth, you’re not going to swallow, got it?”

Wiping the excess saliva from your face, you nodded your head obediently, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, knowing Yunho was just a few feet away from you, but too distracted by the thick, leaking cock right in front of your face. “Cum, please…”

Yunho didn’t realize how much he was getting off on being ignored by the two of you until he finally freed his cock from his stained sweatpants and jerked himself off directly, thick globs of pre-cum pouring down the side of his heavy length, breathy, whiny moans escaping from his drooling mouth, his glasses starting to fog up.

“Brainless for me already, hm? What a good girl. Now, show me your tongue,” Wooyoung whispered, taking advantage of the situation and sending a few strings of spit down onto it as soon as you held out your tongue. When he watched you swallow it immediately, your thighs squeezing together right after, Wooyoung tossed his head back and let out a long guttural groan, pressing his cockhead against your tongue just in time for spurts of hot cum to shoot out of it.

Ready to cum untouched from being used solely for Wooyoung’s pleasure, you carefully closed your mouth, not letting any of his hot load spill out, but not swallowing it down either, as much as you wanted to.

Wooyoung reached down to run his fingers through your wet hair, admiring the mess of pre-cum and spit you had on your face, smiling at you with his canines on display. “Spit out my cum onto your fingers and fuck it into that whore-hole of yours. You wanted to play with yourself, didn’t you? Now’s your chance, princess.”

Shocked by Wooyoung’s perverted request, you simply looked up at him with wide eyes, looking like a hamster with the way your cheeks were currently puffed out and filled with his cum.

“Go on, baby. Don’t be shy. Show Yunho why you have a reputation of being such a shameless cumslut with the guys on my team,” Wooyoung encouraged breathily, gently patting one of your filled cheeks, a few dribbles of milkiness leaking out past your lips.

Yunho’s eyes left the soaking mess in between your thighs for a second to meet your embarrassed gaze, coming to terms with this new information. Not only did you fuck him after your loses, but you took the time to fuck the winning team, even after Yunho had pumped you full of cum. You really were a slut. Yunho became so hard, he grew a bit dizzy.

“F-fine, but don’t stare…” you murmured sheepishly, as if you hadn’t been ran through by both of their teams before. The men in question watched with bated breath as you let the milky load drip onto your fingers, letting out little gasps when they quickly disappeared all the way inside you, your cunt making obscene squelching sounds each time you pushed them in and out.

“You’re so filthy…I think I’m in love,” Wooyoung sighed dreamily, reaching down to clutch your jaw with his slender fingers. He smiled keenly at your contorted expression, enjoying the sound of your whiny moans. “What’s wrong, princess? Are you going to cum just from being a filthy whore? Does it feel that good knowing you're breeding yourself with my load? Mm, and it feels even better knowing that Yunho is watching you be my pretty little cum dump, huh?”

“S-so good, I might…ffffuck…” Once your heated gaze returned to your best friend, Yunho began to seize up at the same time as you, painting his plain black t-shirt with ropes of cum just as your milky release poured onto the tile floor below.

Wooyoung simply chuckled in amusement, before turning his head to face his longtime friend just in time to see him wiping thick streaks of cum off of his long, softened length. “Did you just bust a nut from watching Y/N try to impregnate herself?”

“Y-yes.” Blushing, Yunho adjusted his glasses out of habit, now that he wasn’t wearing his contacts, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie now that his two favorite people were looking at him like they wanted to devour him.

“You’re just as dirty as she is.” Wooyoung smiled idly, positioning himself behind you so that your back pressed into his chest, slowly spreading you wide open for all three of you to see just how pink your soaked slit was. “Hey, Yun. You hungry?”

“Very,” your teammate replied quickly, licking at his lips, already finding himself on his knees before you, ready to start panting in true golden retriever fashion.

“You don’t mind if Yun eats out your pretty, cum-stuffed cunt, do you, baby?” Wooyoung asked you, leaning over to nip at your jaw, pinching your swollen clit just to hear the cute sound you made for him.

Just as you gave them the go-ahead, your teammate buried his face in between your thighs, appreciating how Wooyoung spread you open further with his thumbs, eagerly lapping at the milky liquid that slowly began to drip out of you.

“What a good puppy,” Wooyoung praised, growing hard and harder the longer he watched Yunho desperately slurp up the tangy mixture into his drooling mouth, slipping his cock in between your soft, sweaty thighs, appreciating the warmth they provided. “Do you like the way my cum tastes, Yun?”

“Tasches scho good, Woo,” Yunho replied with his mouth full, dragging his dripping tongue up and over your puffy cunt over and over, idly kneading his fingers into the sides of your thighs.

Groaning, Wooyoung began to fuck the tight space in between your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing deliciously against your pussy, making you moan even louder than you were before. “You wanna taste it from the source, Yun? Huh? You want a taste of my cock?”

Yunho nodded quickly, having to push down his own stiff length from the way it was poking into his abdomen. Drooling, he watched how Wooyoung pulled you just a little farther back against his body, until Yunho had access to his friend’s leaking cock, immediately wrapping his lips around the reddened tip and noisily slurping on it.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Wooyoung moaned out, clutching one of your hips tightly, snaking the other one around your waist to begin flicking and rubbing your clit, looking down over your shoulder to watch his friend fervently suck and lick at his cock each time he thrusted himself between your closed, trembling thighs, a combination of his pre-cum and your wetness dirtying Yunho’s foggy glasses. “I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face, Yun. Gonna make Y/N squirt all over it too.”

“Give it to me, please…” he panted, dragging his tongue up from Wooyoung’s twitching tip, along your pulsing cunt, and up over your clit, licking fervently at it when Wooyoung lifted your hood up to expose it completely. Yunho was so desperate to chase his high, he almost didn’t register that he had begun to hump against your leg like a dog in heat, leaving streaks of sticky pre-cum on your skin.

“Good puppy, fuck, you’re such a good boy, Yuyu,” you praised your teammate whinily, desperately rubbing your cunt all over his tongue until your knees felt like they were about to buckle, Wooyoung’s veiny cock running along your slit from below sending you over the edge.

“Wet this puppy’s face with your squirt, baby. Now,” Wooyoung growled into your ear, biting on the side of it just as he roughly pinched your clit, thrusting forward in between your thighs one more time, only for his sensitive tip to be met with Yunho’s agile tongue, his eyes rolling back when his friend lapped over and into the slit.

Just as your arousal began to squirt onto Yunho’s flushed face, Wooyoung’s cock twitched up into your cunt, his hot load shooting out onto your teammate’s tongue, a few spurts landing onto his glasses.

Just as Yunho was about to cum from rubbing himself all over your leg, he suddenly didn’t have access to it, causing him to look up and whimper. Licking at the cum and squirt on his lips, his honey brown eyes widened at the both of you, his pupils blown wide.

Wooyoung had lifted up your trembling thighs so that they were pressed into either side of you, your body folded up like a paper doll, his hardened cock already slipping in and out of your soaking cunt. Chuckling at your breathless moans and whines, he dragged his tongue up and over your jaw, humming at the taste of your salty skin. “You’ve been waiting to get pounded like this, yeah? Because no one uses this pretty body like I do…huh? You’re so spoiled now.”

“It’s all your fault,” you gasped out in between moans, reaching your arm back to hold onto Wooyoung’s neck, turning your head so that your lips ghosted along the side of his panting mouth. “Please cum inside, Woo, please, I need it.”

Wooyoung squeezed his fingers into the underside of your thighs, bucking his hips roughly up into you. “God, I love when I turn you into my little breeding bitch.” He turned his head so that he could bite at your bottom lip, groaning, “Get ready to retire, baby. I’m gonna knock you up.”

Yunho thought he was going to lose his goddamn mind from witnessing the display of dominance and submission that was taking place directly above him. Wooyoung was completely controlling your body, ruthlessly fucking up into you, one hand tugging at your hair, the other wrapped around your neck, a small bulge routinely becoming visible with each thrust into your stretched cunt. It seemed like neither of you could even remember that Yunho was there, right below you, until he began to eagerly lick at the slick, milky space where your heated, sticky bodies routinely made contact.

You both moaned at the pleasurable sensation, your pulsing lower halves beginning to grow extremely heavy. “Yuyuuu, that feels so good,” you whimpered, angling your head down to gaze lovingly at Yunho, reaching your hand down to ruffle his sweaty hair.

Growling, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and shoved his tongue down your throat, forcibly bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your teary eyes never closed, and never left Yunho’s, even when you began to cum for Wooyoung, your release spilling out into your dear teammate’s open mouth and tongue. Just when Yunho thought he couldn’t get any harder, you began to cry out a cuter version of Wooyoung’s name once he really started to drill his pulsing cock into your sensitive cunt, the twinges of jealousy Yunho felt only contributing to his need to witness his friend unload himself into you.

Wooyoung pressed his forehead against yours, his sharp eyes boring into yours. “You look at me when you take my load, baby. I don’t care if your little boyfriend is watching me fuck you stupid,” he demanded, smacking his palm roughly into the side of your ass, making you squeak out in pleasurable pain.

“Yes, Youngie,” you breathed out, your eyebrows drawing closer once your bottom half began to grow heavier and heavier, not knowing if you were truly capable of cumming for the nth time.

“What a good girl…Open your mouth for me…” Sighing softly, he caught his dripping saliva on your tongue with his own and slid it into your open mouth, the both of you letting out muffled moans as he spilled inside you once again. He broke the sloppy kiss to look down over your shoulder, admiring how his load began to slip out past his softening cock, dripped down past his balls, and landed onto Yunho’s fucked-out face. He smiled darkly at the dried spurts of cum Yunho left on his t-shirt and stained sweatpants. “Baby, look at the mess puppy made…”

You licked at your lips, both you and Wooyoung just about devouring your teammate with your gazes alone. “Oh, Yuyu. Look what you’ve done to yourself. Poor, sweet puppy just wants to feel good, doesn’t he?”

Yunho bit his bottom lip, looking up at the both of you with half-closed, watery eyes, completely at your combined mercy. “Y-yeah. More, please.”

You and Wooyoung exchanged lecherous glances, knowing you wouldn’t be going back to your dorms anytime soon, not when you had such a perfect new companion to play with.

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

for love of the game taglist: @choileo-0710 @luvr4hwa @dawn-iscozy @seulfanatics @anxiousskylar @nanime-roality @304files @yunhoswrldddd

general taglist: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny @lvnderhazes @knucklesdeepmingi

#group: ateez #member: ateez wooyoung #member: ateez yunho #genre: smut #au: college baseball au #trope: enemies to fuckbuddies #trope: best friends to fuck buddies #wc: 5 10k #type: one shot #rating: mature

2K notes · View notes

crdteezv · 11 months ago

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Haechan Fic Recs

[majority of these are smut > minors dni (18+)]

**For the key, when I say extreme, I mean fics that will contain darker themes.

S - Smut | F - Fluff | A - Angst | E - Extreme

Disclaimer: *Some of these didn't have a wc so I added it myself! Another thing, some of these fics can be on the darker side so fair warning*

!!!ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE AMAZING WRITERS!!!

A/N: Whenever I add to the list I’ll reblog this post and keep the updated date down below!!

Last Updated: December 6th, 2024

PERSONAL FAVS

pussy fiend | pt.1 (28.2k) & pt.2 (40.7k) - @domjaehyun (F) (S)

→ college au, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, roommate au

spur of the mommet | pt.1 (2.1k) & pt.2 (10k) - @haetrack (F) (S) (E)

→ perv/inexperienced! haechan, use of toys

thrid wheel (ft. mark) | pt.1 (7.4k) & pt.2 (13.7k) - @ncteez (S)

→ vacation setting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, car sex, 3some

pro: love: add (11.6k) - @haetrack (S)

→ perv/switch haechan & reader

stoner!hyuck (0.4k) - @calibabii21 (S)

untitled #1 (0.4k) - @neocentral (S) (E) (D)

→ noncon

[8:52] (1.6k) - @from-izzy (F)

→ established relationship au!, marriage!au, non-idol au!

can i? (3.5k) - @yutaholic (S)

→ exes to lovers

friendly competition (ft. mark) (2.2k) - @perfumejamal (S)

→ bf mark, 3some

womaniser (2.1k) - @onyourhyuck (S)

→ bestfriend hockey player!haechan

fix me softly (3.1k) - @onyourhyuck (S) (E)

→ best friend/switch/himbo/perv/ haechan, dub-con

again & again (2.5k) - @ihaechans (F) (S)

→ established relationship, sub haechan, mommy kink

nice guy (2k) - @luvyeni (S) (E)

→ stalking, non consensual photo taking

anything you can do i can do better (4.8k) - @vnti-vntiety-recs (S)

→ enemies to lovers/rivals to lovers

jealous!bf!hyuck! (0.5k) - @ye4gerz (S) New!!

→ choking, exhibitionist hyuck, jealous/angry sex

11:21 AM (0.8k) - @junrenjun (F) New!!

→ husband haechan, suggestive

f/ck ban (1k) - @iceonneo (S) New!!

→ bf haechan

3:46pm (0.6k) - @markresonates (S) New!!

→ bf haechan, humiliation

ghost house (8.3k) - @smileysuh (S) (E) New!!

→ ghost/perv/switch sub lean!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au

hoes before bros (ft. mark) (12k) - @beomqu (S) New!!

→ idol! au, cheater! reader, bf! mark, fwb! haechan

caramel (2.8k) - @mejaemin (S) New!!

→ established relationship, beach sex, exhibitionism

9th member (0.4k) - @sugrclip (S) New!!

→ idol au, car sex

under the influence (11.6k) @domjaehyun (S) (E) New!!

→ stoner/perv haechan, shy reader, slight dubcon, corruption

something's missing (2.1k) - @zhongfile (S) (E) New!!

→ ex haechan, blackmailing, dubcon themes

i ❤️ hot nerds (ft.jaemin) (8.7K) - @domjaehyun (S) New!!

→ perv nerd haechan & jaemin, popular reader

ONESHOTS

the perfect victim (2.7k) - @revehae (S) (E)

→ noncon

angel tears (1.8k) - @diorcities (S)

→ possessiveness, mirror/make up sex

my favorite pair (3k) - @goodiegoddesselle (S) (E)

→ perv haechan, roommates, enemies to lovers

touch (1.9k) - @ch3rryc4ndy (S)

→ husband, teacher x student role-play (18+)

play bear (1.4k) - @diorcities (S)

→ established relationship, gamer haechan

impatient (2k) - @ihaechans (S)

→ established relationship, jealous haechan

cool off (4.6k) - @soobrat (F) (S) New!!

→ idol au, public sex(?), switch!ish

free falling (5k) - @sunpopz (S) New!!

→ gamer au, perv!hyuck, sub!hyuck?

forget him (7.1k) @smileysuh (S) New!!

→ friends to lovers, roommates au, recent breakup

DRABBLES

untitled #2 (0.5k) - @sserasin (S) (E)

→ dubcon, infidelity

untitled #3 (0.7k) - @starryhyuck (S)

→ established relationship, public sex??

thigh riding (0.5k) - @babiesdreams (S)

day 14: haechan (0.7k) - @babiesdreams (S)

→ hard dom, edging, degradation

4:15 AM (0.5k) - @taexoxosgf (S) (E)

→ established relationship, somnophilia, dumbification

untitled #4 (0.9k) - @haetrack (S)

→ cockwarming, himbo!haechan

untitled #5 (1.3k) - @starryhyuck (S)

fwb!haechan (1.3k) - @pinkynana (S)

untitled #6 (0.8k) - @toniiswrld (S)

→ roommates, fwb!enemies ?, birthday sex

day 18 - toys (1.3k) - @jaylaxies (S)

→ use of toys, mutual masturbation

untitled #7 (1.3k) - @starryhyuck (S)

→ established relationship, mean dom haechan

untitled #8 (0.5k) - @sserasin (S) (E) New!!

→ dubcon, infidelity, choking

11:32 AM (0.5k) - @jenoismydad (S) New!!

→ thigh riding

sweet release (0.7k) - @hisunflower (S) New!!

→ idol au, oral

untitled #9 (1.2k) - @vanesycho (S) New!!

→ bf haechan, oral, boob play

HEADCANNONS

pervert!haechan (0.3k) - @jaylaxies (S) (E)

→ roommates au

more perv!haechan thoughts (0.6k) - @thetypingpup (S) (E)

pervy!neighbor (0.2k) - @neo-percs (S) (E)

perv!boyfriend (0.3k) - @luvyeni (S) (E)

FAKE TEXTS

ex haechan - @handlemehyuck (F) New!!

2K notes · View notes

writesvani · 2 months ago

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down low | 01

boxer! jungkook x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: There's no love, there are no fights with Jungkook—just a twisted addiction that keeps you crawling back. You tell yourselves it’s not toxic. After all, you never argue, never get jealous. Just fuck, lie, and slip back into the arms of the people who will never know.

It’s not love.

But it sure as hell isn’t nothing.

friends with benefits au, situationship au

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual content, guilt, manipulation, secrecy, emotional conflict, cheating, voyeurism, risky behavior, sexting

comment here for the Down Low taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— next chapter

wc: 3,6k // date: 10th of April 2025

CHAPTER ONE — U Up?; happy reading my gummies...

AN: okay, so here's a highly questionable cast of characters that i lowkey (highkey) despise. like, seriously, i’m not sure who let them be this messy, but here we are. anyway, just to clarify, i don’t condone cheating, but since this is fiction, i’m gonna let them do their absolutely horrible, unhinged thing.

also, this series was supposed to be a 5-chapter thing, each chapter a massive 10k words (i know, i had big plans), but since i don't have time to edit those giant chapters rn, i’ve decided to split it up into smaller ones. because we all deserve a little chaos in bite-sized pieces, right?

as for the note goal… who even knows how to set these things? like, chapter one is out and my m.list has around 1.6k notes, so let’s be HIGHLY ambitious and say chapter 2 will drop once we hit 800 notes. i mean, let’s aim high, people, right? let’s get those notes!

If there were a proper title to give you, it wouldn’t be something graceful or kind. No, it would be a creature of bad habits.

Greedy—that’s what they call you. And maybe they’re right. Because how could you ever be satisfied with what you already have? You crave more. Always more. More love. More passion. More friendships. More fun. More everything. It’s intoxicating, that hunger. Isn’t that just human nature, though? To want, to chase, to reach for the things just out of grasp?

You never understood the point of settling. Why would anyone cling to a single slice when the whole cake is within reach? But greed doesn’t come alone. No, it always brings a shadow—possessiveness.

Even as a little girl, you despised sharing. Your toys were yours. Your parents’ attention? Yours, too—until your little brother arrived and shattered that illusion. You learned to live with it. You adapted. But when it came to your friends… that instinct never faded. They were yours. Always.

So maybe it makes sense that now, as a woman, you have a loyal, sweet boyfriend who adores you—completely unaware that he shares you with another man when the night grows heavy and dark.

Sometimes, you think he’s stupid. The way he never even considers the possibility of someone else touching you, breathing your name while he sleeps, studies or works late hours. The way he never questions your sudden silences, your empty stare, the soft smell of someone else’s cologne lingering in your hair.

Sometimes, you think he’s cute. Sweet, even. Taehyung trusts you blindly, so deeply, it almost breaks your heart.

And sometimes—on the rare nights when your body aches from carrying secrets and your soul feels raw—you’re grateful for him. He’s the shoulder you cry on when the weight becomes too much, the arms that hold you when you feel like falling apart. Maybe… maybe he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And yet—despite all of that—you still do it. You still let another man kiss the guilt off your skin. You still let another man wreck you in ways you never let Taehyung see.

Do you feel guilty? Occasionally. But guilt?

Guilt is for the weak.

Because the truth is—you can’t stop. Even when you know it’s wrong. Even when it makes you question everything.

Are you a bad person?

No.

Just… human.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The honeyed scent of Taehyung’s skin wraps around you like a memory you never asked for. It’s warm, familiar—safe. His arm is thrown lazily over your waist, fingers curled like he’s afraid of losing you even in sleep. He’s close—so close it should feel like home. His chest rises and falls behind you, a steady rhythm you’ve come to memorize. His soft snores echo in the quiet, like a lullaby meant just for you.

You should be asleep.

You should be calm. At peace.

But you’re not.

Your eyes flutter open again, lashes brushing your cheeks with every blink. Frustration bubbles beneath your skin as you squint at the red digits on the nightstand. 01:34 AM.

You have classes in the morning. Work after that. Your entire day is stitched together with responsibilities, expectations, and the mask you’ve been perfecting for months, years even. Still, sleep refuses to take you. It stays just out of reach, mocking you.

Your fingers flex around Taehyung’s forearm—his skin warm under your touch—and he shifts closer, unconsciously drawn to you. It makes you smile. He’s too adorable for his own good when he sleeps. Soft. Vulnerable.

Yours.

You almost turn toward him. Almost let yourself bury your face in the crook of his neck. Let his scent rock you to sleep like it’s done a hundred times before.

Almost.

Until a sound cuts through the silence.

A ping. Soft, sharp. Familiar.

Your body stiffens. Taehyung mumbles something incoherent, lips brushing your shoulder, and you feel the faintest trace of drool there. He’s out cold.

You reach for the nightstand like you’ve done it a thousand times. No hesitation. No second guessing. You already know who it is.

Of course it’s him.

Your screen lights up with a message so simple it makes your stomach flip.

JK: u up?

It’s always like this.

He waits until Eunji is asleep, until the world is quiet, until you’re wrapped in someone else’s arms—and then he texts. Always at night. Always in secret.

And you?

You always answer.

Because your little game only lives in the shadows, breathing between midnight texts and silenced guilt.

Because even though you’re lying in Taehyung’s bed, wearing his t-shirt, listening to the steady beat of his heart—

You're never really his. Not fully.

Not when Jungkook’s name has the power to set your entire body on fire.

you: mhmm, but thinking of dozing off rn

JK: c’mon bby, don’t fall asleep on me now, wya?

you: taehyung’s. wby?

JK: home. but eunji’s sleeping over.

you: so why are u texting me?

JK: can’t i just miss you?

you: liaaaar. you don’t miss mee.

You stare at the last message, lips curled into a smirk even though your chest tightens with something you won’t name. Because it’s true.

Jungkook doesn’t miss you. He never has. Not in the way you need to be missed. Not in the daylight, not when the world is watching. Only in the dark, only when it’s quiet and no one’s looking. Just like you don’t miss him.

Not really.

Not ever.

JK: mmh, myb, but i miss that cute little throat

Your breath hitches. Instinctively, your eyes dart to Taehyung.

Still fast asleep.

His face is soft, turned toward your shoulder, mouth slightly open. The steady warmth of his breath fans your skin. He looks like everything that’s right in the world. Everything stable. Everything safe.

So why does your pulse quicken like this?

Why does your body react as if Jungkook’s hands are already on you, as if his voice is already whispering filth into your ear?

It shouldn’t be hot.

It shouldn’t be.

But it is.

The guilt crawling beneath your skin only adds fuel to the fire.

Your fingers tremble as you type.

you: really? what else do you miss?

You send it before you can stop yourself.

Before you can talk yourself out of it.

Taehyung shifts beside you, arm tightening around your waist, and you freeze for a second—heart caught between panic and something darker.

Something closer to thrill.

There’s a pause.

Long enough for anticipation to curl low in your stomach like smoke.

You can already picture him—lying in his bed, lights off, the pale blue glow of his phone screen painting shadows across that pretty face. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, that familiar furrow in his brow as he tries to come up with something clever. Something that’ll make your skin burn.

He always does this—crafts the perfect reply, like he’s pulling the strings and watching you fall apart from the safety of his room. Like he knows exactly what to say to make your walls crumble.

You bite the inside of your cheek, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Taehyung’s arm is still snug around your waist, his body still warm, still unaware. Still perfect.

But it’s not him you’re thinking about.

Not in this moment.

Not when your phone buzzes again.

JK: aha. miss the way u sound when i hit it from the back.

JK: miss how u shake when i bite down real soft so he wouldn’t notice.

JK: miss that dumb look in ur eyes when u know u shouldn’t want it but beg anyway.

Your mouth goes dry.

Shame rushes in quick and hot, but it doesn’t stop the way your thighs clench beneath the blanket. Doesn’t stop the heat blooming in your chest like a fire you’re too afraid to put out.

You should put the phone down.

You should.

But instead, you type with shaking fingers:

you: you’re such an asshole.

you: but what if i wanna beg now?

A reckless message. Sent before you can overthink it.

And just like that, the silence of the room shifts—heavier now. Thicker with something filthy. Dangerous.

He doesn’t reply right away.

And for a fleeting second, dread slips beneath your skin like ice. Your heart stutters.

What if she woke up?

What if you both got caught?

Your fingers tighten around the phone, breath held hostage in your lungs.

Ping.

Two notifications.

But not texts.

Photos.

Your pulse skyrockets as you swipe them open.

The first image is a little blurry, but you don’t need perfect resolution to know what you’re looking at.

Blanket draped low, his tattooed arm stretched across it, boxers tenting high with the unmistakable shape of his cock—hard and ready.

Your stomach twists. Fuck.

Even through the layers of cotton, it makes your mouth water. The idea that he’s this worked up over a few late-night texts? That his body responds to you like instinct, like addiction?

It shouldn’t thrill you this much.

But it does.

You swipe to the next photo—and suddenly, it’s not just lust that grips you.

It’s something darker.

Colder.

Eunji.

Sleeping on her stomach, hand curled beneath her pillow. Her face is turned away from the camera, peaceful. Innocent. Her long black hair spills across the pillow like silk—so shiny, so well-kept, you might’ve asked her about her routine if you weren’t fucking her boyfriend.

Your throat tightens.

She’s right there. Within arm’s reach of him. Of this.

And still, his attention is on you.

Still, you’re the one making him hard.

Taehyung stirs beside you in his sleep, lips brushing your shoulder, completely unaware. Completely devoted.

You blink, breath shaky, phone clutched in your hand like a loaded gun.

You should be disgusted.

You should feel something.

Shame. Guilt. Rage.

But all you feel is heat pooling between your legs—and that awful, aching need that only Jungkook seems to know how to pull from you.

And best of all?

The power.

The power of knowing you’re the one they both need.

you: bruuuuh, why’d u have to send me a pic of her

JK: because you’re teasing too much bby and i can’t do anything about it

you: ugh you’re so disgusting kook

JK: c’mon, don’t pretend you don’t love making me this hard when she’s here

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering, breath stuck in your throat.

He got you.

Again.

It’s not even about the sex anymore—it’s about the way Jungkook crawls inside your head and flips every switch you swore no one else could reach.

He knows.

Knows how your body reacts to filthy words whispered like secrets.

Knows which buttons to press to make you unravel with just a few taps of a keyboard.

But more than that—he knows your mind.

Knows how you crave what’s forbidden.

How your appetite is carved from hunger for things you can’t have.

How the moment something is off-limits, it becomes irresistible.

How the line between guilt and arousal blurs the second he sends you proof that he’s hard—while the girl who trusts him sleeps inches away.

And worst of all, he knows you won’t stop.

He knows you’ll let him get away with it.

Knows that the shame is half the high.

That this game you play—the one with no winners—is the only thing that really makes you feel anything anymore.

You clench your thighs together beneath Taehyung’s sheets, the warmth of his body wrapped around yours like a lifeline. And yet, you’re not even here.

Your body’s here.

But your mind?

Your need?

Your guilt and desire and the ugliest parts of you?

They’re with Jungkook.

JK: u there?

JK: or is taehyung waking up?

JK: should i stop texting, baby?

Your jaw tightens.

you: shut up, kook.

you: you’re insane.

you: she’s literally RIGHT THERE.

you: you’re actually disgusting.

JK: yeah? but you’re wet, aren’t you?

JK: don’t lie, baby.

JK: you love this shit.

JK: love that i’m hard for you while she’s snoring in my bed.

JK: love knowing she has no idea.

JK: love knowing taehyung’s clueless too.

Your hands tremble just slightly, phone screen glowing like it’s daring you to throw it across the room. You don’t.

you: i hate you.

JK: no, you don’t.

JK: you hate that i know you.

JK: hate that i get to see this part of you no one else does.

JK: hate that it turns you on this much.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Not yet.

But he doesn’t need your words to keep going.

JK: i bet you’re squeezing your thighs right now, aren’t you?

JK: laying there next to your sweet little boyfriend, thinking about my cock.

JK: thinking about my mouth.

JK: thinking about how fast i’d make you cum if you were here instead.

JK: or better yet... if i was there.

Your heart slams into your ribs.

you: kook.

you: stop.

you: seriously.

JK: say the word, and i will.

JK: but we both know you won’t.

JK: you like this too much, baby.

Your lips part. The room is quiet—too quiet—except for the sound of Taehyung’s steady breathing against your neck.

Your fingers move before your mind can catch up.

you: tell me what you’d do if you were here.

There’s a pause. A long one. Long enough to make your heart thud louder in your ears.

JK: i’d pull those panties to the side and stuff your mouth so you can’t make a sound

JK: i wouldn’t care about taehyung. he wouldn’t even wake up. he’d just keep dreaming while i fuck you slow and deep right next to him

JK: you’d cum with your back arched into me and my hand on your throat to keep you quiet

Your breath hitches. You feel the wetness between your thighs, undeniable now.

The scenario is absurd, unrealistic, impossible, yet the mere thought of Jungkook fucking you right next to your sleeping boyfriend makes the irational part of you ponder of calling him over.

Key word: irrational.

you: you’re horrible.

JK: and you love it.

JK: you love knowing i want to ruin you while he holds you like you’re some kind of good girl.

JK: you’re not.

You close your eyes, inhale the sweet scent of Taehyung’s skin—and then, traitorously, exhale Jungkook’s name in your mind.

you: what would you do after?

JK: i’d stay inside you.

JK: soft. slow. still.

JK: just so you’ll remember who really owns you every time he touches you.

Your whole body clenches.

You shouldn’t reply.

But of course, you do.

you: i want you so bad it hurtsssss

JK: then come over

JK: i’ll fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt

you: haah, you wish. she’s still there kook.

JK: so what? i’ll wake her up, tell her i have an emergency with friends or something, make sum up

you: you wish jungkook.

JK: you’re soooo mean

You stare at the screen. Your fingers hover for a second before you start typing again, heart pounding.

you: you want to know what i’d do if i was there?

JK: fuck yes.

JK: tell me.

You smile, biting your lip, eyes glinting with mischief as you start typing slow.

you: i wouldn’t touch you right away.

you: i’d crawl into your bed real slow, straddle your lap, let your hands wander while mine just sit on your chest.

you: tease you. rub against you just enough to get you begging.

you: but i wouldn’t let you take my clothes off.

JK: fuck.

JK: keep going.

you: i’d grind down on you until you’re so hard it hurts. kiss you just to shut you up.

you: make you watch me take off my shirt. real slow. nothing else.

you: then i’d lean in and whisper how good i’d make you feel—if you kept your hands to yourself.

JK: you’re evil.

JK: i’m literally throbbing rn.

you: i’m not done.

you: i’d slide down between your legs, kiss up your thighs, leave scratches on them just because i can.

you: and then i’d suck your cock so slow you’d lose your damn mind.

you: make you beg to cum.

you: but you don’t get to, not until i say so.

you: i’d let you fuck my mouth. deep. wet. sloppy.

you: and right when you’re close? i’d stop.

you: tell you to fuck me instead.

There’s a pause.

Then—

JK: baby. i’m gonna cum in my boxers.

JK: you’re unreal.

JK: comeee here.

you: you wish.

you: you don’t deserve me tonight.

JK: you’re so fucked up.

JK: and i love it.

you: you love it when i edge you, don’t you?

you: leave you aching and leaking for me.

you: bet you’d cum the second i sit on your lap.

JK: fuck. stop.

JK: you’re gonna make me ruin these boxers.

JK: get your ass over here.

you: why? so you can throw her out just to rail me. or so you can fuck me while she’s sleeping in the next room?

you: so i have to keep quiet with your hand over my mouth?

JK: you love that shit, don’t you?

JK: you biting my hand to keep from screaming is the hottest shit ever.

JK: you shake when you cum. did you know that?

JK: so fucking pretty.

you: you think i don’t know?

you: you only cum that hard for me.

you: not her.

you: never her.

You glance over your shoulder. Taehyung is still knocked out. Thank God.

you: he’s still asleep.

you: you should be fucking me right now.

you: you should be filling me up in his bed.

JK: you’d love that, wouldn’t you?

JK: i’d cum inside you so deep you’d leak into his sheets.

JK: he’d never know he’s holding you while you’re full of me.

JK: you’re so mine it’s pathetic.

you: i’d let you fuck me slow. real slow.

you: make you watch my face while i whisper his name just to fuck with you.

you: and you’d still moan like a bitch.

JK: jesus fucking christ.

JK: you want me to beg? fine. i’m begging.

JK: tell me what you’re wearing.

You smirk, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your panties just enough to make yourself gasp softly.

you: just his t-shirt.

you: nothing underneath.

you: it still smells like him.

you: but i’m touching myself to you.

JK: i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

JK: show me.

Your fingers move before you can think. You slowly peel the covers off your legs, making sure not to wake your boyfriend. The room is dim, but there’s just enough light from the window to catch your skin in that soft glow.

You bite your lip and slide your hand down the front of your body, lifting the hem of Taehyung’s shirt just enough. Camera up. Angle just right. The top of your thighs, the curve of your stomach, your fingers just brushing beneath the shirt, teasing the promise of what’s underneath.

Click.

You send it.

you: this enough for now?

you: you don’t even get to see everything. not tonight.

Another picture follows, this one riskier—your fingers between your thighs now, lips parted slightly in the mirror, shirt still on but clearly, there’s nothing beneath.

Click. Sent.

JK: holy. fuck.

JK: you’re gonna make me cum just from this.

JK: i want you on your knees the second i see you.

you: you’ll be lucky if i even let you touch me.

you: maybe i’ll just sit on your face and make you beg for it.

JK: say less.

JK: i’ll let you ride me until i forget my own name.

JK: just say the word.

You’re beyond turned on right now. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your thoughts tangled in need and desire. Every inch of you is aching for him, and you can practically feel your body calling out to Jungkook. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a constant reminder of how badly you want him.

For a moment, you consider sneaking into the bathroom, texting him some more, maybe even making yourself cum with your fingers. But then the air shifts.

Taehyung stirs in his sleep, and your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. Panic rushes through you, cold and sharp, as his voice breaks the silence.

“Love, what are you doing there?”

Your body freezes, a deer caught in headlights, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly shut your phone, lowering the volume to make sure he doesn’t hear Jungkook’s incoming texts.

“Oh, nothing,” you manage to say, your voice sounding steadier than you feel. “Just going to the bathroom.”

He hums in response, shifting his body to turn the other way. “Just turn the hallway lights off when you get back, and hurry up. You know I can’t sleep without you.”

Your heart races, but you manage to whisper, “Okay, love. Wait for me.”

You bolt out of the room, the urgency in your movements as sharp as the guilt gnawing at you. The second you’re in the bathroom, you lock the door behind you. You sit down on the closed toilet, your body trembling, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

You pull your phone back out, your fingers shaky as you unlock it. A string of messages from Jungkook lights up the screen, his words practically searing into you.

JK: ugh, i want to fuck you so bad

JK: bby?

JK: wya?

JK: is he up or sum?

JK: are you okay?

JK: did he catch you?

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening as you type your response, fingers trembling.

you: he woke up for a sec, i'm in the bathroom rn

you: he’s waiting for me

The next message hits you like a punch in the gut.

JK: oh shit

JK: we should probably stop for tonight

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. No shit, Sherlock. Of course, you should stop for tonight. Why does he always have to act like you’re stupid?

you: yea, i gotta go.

The reply is almost immediate, and you can hear the tension in his words.

JK: okay

JK: wanna chill tmrw tho?

You pause, your mind racing. You should stop, but you want him. You always want him.

you: when?

Your fingers hover over the screen as you try to keep your composure.

JK: after your shift? maybe 10-11pm? you can sleep over.

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. The pull of temptation is too strong, and you can't resist.

you: sure.

taglist: @mochi13 @wobblewobble822 @jkvamp @sunnikthv @kimyishin @asyr97 @pjmname @shesscorpio7 @daarla07 @jeontids @bellefaerie @kissyfacekoo @lily-lilacsky @bammbi-jeon127 @httpjeonlicious @belleilichil @minghaosimp @marrtyaa @septemberskies @yok00k @ioanatodorova @rokshi @b2407 @boommoom @kookienooki @avawants2havefun @bhonbhon @taekritimin123 @oraiseok @thenamesathy @superchamchi88 @lenamercedesworld @candygalx @notsevenwithyou @heesuvk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonsinsatiablekitten @saki-gojo @piratekingateez2001 @0-0rot @bangatanily @justbelljust @plusultra0 @softhaes @bangtanily @justbelljust @gguk-lvr @gukkie7 @beomluvrr @iamworldwidehandsome

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mocharyc · 3 months ago

Text

Invincible variants x reader Pt. 5✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

♡ The first variant gets the best pickings of her(y/n's) love ♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Fever Dreams‧ ₊ ˚

☆ WC: 10k+ [Part 5] ☆ TW: fluff + more~ ☆ Author's Note: This chapter took a long time to get down, I kept re-writing it over and over again. I really wanted the... well, I can't spoil, lol. read and find outttt ♡ ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ ♡This is a long chapter; bear with me pls♡

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Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of conversations reaching her through the haze of medication and pain. Each voice filtered through her fevered mind with distinct clarity, bringing with it the unique cadence and emotion of its owner.

"...collar repairs are possible, but without proper calibration..." Emperor's voice, commanding even in hushed tones. His brow furrowed with impatience, the muscle in his jaw twitching beneath his chiseled face as he stared down at the broken technology with disdain. The golden accents of his imperial uniform caught the dim light of the cabin as he moved, his posture rigid with authority.

"...keep her sedated until the fever breaks..." No Mask's voice carried an unusual gentleness. His exposed features—so jarring without the familiar invincible mask—softened with concern as he checked her bandages with practiced efficiency, his fingers trembling slightly when they brushed against her burning skin. The familiar blue and yellow of his costume seemed darker in the cabin's shadows, his face marked with exhaustion.

"...touch her again and I'll tear your arms off..." Mohawk snarled, his threat punctuated by the flash of his teeth. His eyes blazed with protective fury, veins pulsing visibly at his temples as he stood with his fists clenched, knuckles white with restraint. The distinctive ridge of his mohawk cast a jagged shadow across the wall, matching the harsh lines of rage etched into his face.

"...mission parameters are clear, this distraction is illogical..." Omni's razor-sharp logic cut through the tension. His perfectly composed features betrayed him only through the slight clench of his jaw as he fought against his overwhelming desire to rush to her side, to ensure her comfort himself. The blood stained red and white of his uniform seemed to glow in the half-light, pristine despite the chaos surrounding them.

"...she’s your Y/N, she's mine..." Sinister's words dripped with possession, his face gleaming with obsession. His pupils dilated as he stared hungrily at her prone form, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as if tasting her vulnerability in the air. His black and yellow suit seemed to absorb the shadows, making him appear more creature than man.

The voices blended and separated, identifiable not just by tone but by the emotions etched into their identical-yet-different faces—Emperor's imperious sneer, the way his nostrils flared when contradicted; Mohawk's snarling defiance, the permanent crease between his brows deepening with each protective glance; Omni's calculated detachment betrayed by the trembling of his lower lip when he thought no one was watching; Viltrumite's cold authority masking deeper anguish visible in the shadows beneath his eyes; Prisoner's raw hatred punctuated by twitches of longing that softened his scarred features momentarily; Phantom's haunted gaze, perpetually searching; Sinister's predatory smile revealing his sharp canines, his eyes never blinking beneath his black lenes when fixed upon her; No Mask's rare flickers of humanity breaking through his professional demeanor like cracks in armor.

They were arguing about her, around her, over her—as if she were a prize to be claimed rather than a person with agency. The realization should have angered her, but in her weakened state, it offered opportunity. Their fracturing alliance, their competing claims—these were vulnerabilities she could exploit if only she could recover enough strength.

The medication pulled her under again, dragging her into dreamless darkness where even these thoughts faded to nothing.

When Y/N next opened her eyes, the cabin was bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight. The pain in her side had dulled to a persistent throb rather than the sharp agony of before, suggesting No Mask's medication was working. Her mind felt clearer, no longer swimming in the fog of fever and infection.

She wasn't alone. A figure sat in a chair beside her bed, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the broken window. For a moment, fear spiked through her—was it Prisoner, returned to make good on his threats? Sinister, with his disturbing obsession? But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she recognized the distinctive outline of Phantom's mask face, the void-like quality of his presence.

"You're awake," he observed, his voice so quiet it might have been mistaken for the rustling of leaves outside. Beneath the see-through fabric of his mask, his eyes watched her with an intensity that felt different from the others—less possessive, more... haunted. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across his masked features, highlighting the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself apart from her.

Y/N didn't respond immediately, taking stock of her condition. The bandages around her torso felt clean and dry, no longer sodden with blood and infection. Her throat, while still raw from the collar's damage, no longer burned with each breath. The worst of the fever had broken, leaving her weak but coherent. She felt her Viltrumite powers slowly returning.

"Why are you watching me?" she finally asked, her voice stronger than it had been earlier, though still rough around the edges. She pushed herself up slightly on the bed, wincing as the movement pulled at her healing wounds.

Phantom didn't answer directly, his head tilting slightly as he studied her in the moonlight. A muscle in his jaw jumped beneath the edge of his mask, betraying emotion beneath his controlled exterior. "You look like her," he said after a long pause.

"My mother."

The admission was so unexpected, so far from anything Y/N had anticipated, that she found herself momentarily speechless.

Of all the possible intimate connections these Mark variants might have formed with her, a maternal one had never crossed her mind. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, lips parting slightly as she processed his words.

"Your mother?" she echoed, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She shifted against the pillows, trying to see his face more clearly in the moonlight.

Phantom leaned forward slightly, the moonlight casting half his masked face in silver while leaving the rest in shadow. For a moment, his eyes glimmered with something that might have been tears under his mask, the wet moisture beneath his lenses catching the light. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, as if steeling himself to continue.

"In my universe," he explained, each word measured as if speaking required conscious effort, "she raised me after my father died. Taught me control. Strength." His gloved fingers curled into a fist on his knee, knuckles white beneath the leather. "Than they came… I was took weak without proper training… When she was killed, there was... nothing left to contain what I became."

Y/N remained silent, sensing that any interruption might end this rare moment of vulnerability. The rawness in Phantom's voice, the slight tremor of his lips beneath his mask—these were cracks in his armor that she hadn't thought possible. She kept her gaze fixed on him, her own face softening with something like understanding.

"The others," he continued after a moment, his eyes darting to the door as if fearing interruption, "they see their lovers, their partners in you. Their Y/Ns." The word seemed to catch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

"But I see the woman who taught me what compassion meant." His mask turned toward the broken window, moonlight catching damp fabric beneath the eyes of his mask. "Before I forgot."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken history, with the ghost of a relationship that had shaped this Mark variant into something different from the others. Not better, perhaps—his hands were as blood-stained as theirs—but different in motivation, in drive.

"Is that why you're here?" Y/N asked finally with a raise of her brow, her voice barely above a whisper. "To remember what compassion feels like?"

Phantom remained motionless for so long that Y/N wondered if he'd heard her question. When he finally spoke, his voice had returned to its usual emptiness, the momentary vulnerability buried beneath layers of control, his eyes once again shadowed and unreadable behind his mask.

"I'm here because I believe every universe should suffer what I have." The words were recited like a mantra, a truth so fundamental it had become faith. "Angstrom Levy promised us salvation. Promised me..."

"A new Y/n?" she supplied when he trailed off, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone as she rolled her eyes, a hint of defiance returning to her despite her weakened state.

Phantom's head snapped toward her, the movement too quick, too inhuman to be comfortable. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords beneath his skin, his breathing suddenly harsh behind his mask. The moonlight caught the subtle changes in his posture—a coiling of tension, a predatory stillness.

"No," he said, with unexpected vehemence.

"You can't be replaced. She can't be… None of you can." His voice dropped, becoming almost introspective. "That's what they don't understand. What I'm beginning to fe–..."

He stopped abruptly, rising from the chair with fluid grace. His black and blue uniform absorbed the moonlight, creating a void in the shape of a man, as he moved.

"You should rest," he stated, retreating behind the mask of cool detachment, though his eyes remained fixed on her face with an intensity that belied his tone. "Tomorrow will be... difficult."

Before Y/N could question him further, the cabin door opened, admitting Viltrumite's imposing figure. The moonlight caught the white of his uniform, lending him an almost ethereal quality as he stood framed in the doorway, power and authority radiating from his perfect posture. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, his dark hair swept back immaculately despite the chaos of their mission.

His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked between Phantom and Y/N, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he could smell the vulnerability that had permeated the room moments before.

The white of his uniform seemed to glow in the moonlight, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the strength contained in his frame.

"Your watch is over," he stated, not a question but a command. His gaze lingered on Y/N's face, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Return to bringing destruction to this planet."

Phantom inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, moving toward the door. He paused beside Viltrumite, the two Mark variants presenting a study in contrasts—one all light and imperial presence, the other shadow and restrained power. The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity.

"She's stronger," Phantom observed quietly, the words meant only for Viltrumite's ears but carrying in the cabin's stillness. "The fever's breaking, clear signs of her Viltumite status returning."

Viltrumite's features remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or satisfaction. The corner of his mouth twitched upward momentarily, a fleeting crack in his regal facade.

"Good, now go," he replied, dismissal evident in his tone. "Join Sinister in the eastern quadrant. The planet still needs to be destroyed."

Phantom disappeared into the night without another word, leaving Y/N alone with Viltrumite. The absence of his presence left the cabin feeling suddenly larger, emptier; a sadness bellowed in her eyes.

The older Mark variant moved into the cabin with measured steps, each movement precise and controlled. In the moonlight, he seemed carved from marble—flawless, ageless, his features set in lines of authority that brooked no defiance. His eyes, though identical to all the Mark's in color, held centuries of experience and the weight of an empire.

"Your condition is improving," he observed, coming to stand beside her bed. Closer she could see his brown eyes clearer, they were cooler than the others' yet somehow more penetrating, cataloging her appearance with clinical assessment. The slightest twitch of his lips betrayed satisfaction at her recovery. "No Mask's intervention was... fortuitous."

Y/N attempted to push herself higher on the pillows, determined to face him from a position less vulnerable than flat on her back. The movement sent a dull throb of pain through her side, but it was manageable—a vast improvement from the searing agony of before. A bead of sweat formed at her temple from the effort, rolling down her cheek.

"Lucky for you," she replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "Can't extract much value from a corpse, can you?"

Something shifted in Viltrumite's expression—not quite surprise, but a reassessment.

His nostrils flared slightly, and the harsh lines of his imperial bearing softened fractionally, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the mantle, his brown eyes studying her with newfound interest, pupils dilating almost imperceptibly. A muscle in his cheek twitched, betraying emotions he kept carefully controlled.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice losing some of its commanding resonance. "Your survival is... significant beyond our new mission parameters."

Y/N laughed, the sound bitter and sharp in the moonlit cabin. "Right. Because I look like her—your Y/N." The words were a challenge, thrown like rocks at his feet.

Her eyes flashed with defiance, color rising to her cheeks as she held his gaze. "Is that it? I'm a convenient replacement for whatever woman you lost?"

Viltrumite's reaction was unmistakable—a tightening around his eyes, a momentary tension in his jaw that made a muscle jump beneath his skin. For an instant, his perfect composure cracked, revealing raw grief beneath the imperial façade. His fingers trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out against his skin.

"She was not just..." he began, then stopped, the words seeming to catch in his throat. His eyes appeared suddenly brighter, more vulnerable in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Y/N watched, fascinated, as emotions warred across his face—grief, anger, longing, all quickly suppressed beneath the mask of control. His eyes darkened, his breath coming slightly faster as he fought for composure. The white of his uniform seemed suddenly too bright, too pristine in the darkness of the cabin.

"She was going to be the Empress of Earth," he finally continued, his voice steadier. "My partner in bringing order to chaos. She just lacked the Viltrumite blood." His expression softened minutely, something like nostalgia crossing his features. "But she understood the necessity of strength, of..."

He trailed off, his brown eyes distant, seeing not the cabin but some memory of glory long past. Then, with a visible effort, he refocused on Y/N, his gaze sharpening like a blade being honed. The moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by the cold calculation she had come to associate with him.

"You are not her," he said, each word precise and deliberate. "But you could be... more."

Y/N felt a chill that had nothing to do with her fever. The hunger in Viltrumite's eyes was different from Sinister's predatory obsession or Mohawk's possessive rage. It was the hunger of a man who had tasted power and found it addictive, who saw in her not just a lost love but a potential ally in conquest.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she met his gaze.

"I'm not interested in being anyone's empress," she said flatly, a puff of her cheeks as she met his gaze without flinching. "Or replacement. Or puppet."

Viltrumite's lips curved in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, the expression as cold as winter frost. "You speak as if you have a choice," he observed, his tone almost gentle as he leaned down closer to her. "As if any of us did."

Before Y/N could respond, something unexpected happened. Viltrumite moved closer, his expression shifting from imperial distance to something more human, more vulnerable. In one fluid motion, he reached out and touched her face, his fingers cool against her fever-warm skin.

As his fingers slid along the side of her soft cheek, a shiver ran through his entire body, barely perceptible but unmistakable.

"You have her spirit," he murmured, his voice so low she could barely hear it. "Her defiance. It's... why I—"

He leaned in closer, his warm breath washing over her face. The scent of him—clean, masculine, with an undercurrent of blood. His eyes, dark and intense, searched her face as if memorizing every detail. The hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something almost tender, almost reverent.

For a brief moment, Y/N saw not the conquering Viltrumite but a man grieving, a man who had lost something precious and thought he'd found it again. His eyes softened, the harsh lines around his mouth relaxing into something almost tender. The nearness of her, the warmth of her skin against his fingers, seemed to draw him out of himself, out of the imperial persona he wore like armor. His eyes almost fluttered shut, her warm breath fanning over his lips.

He looked into her eyes, noting the flush spreading across her cheeks, her lips parting softly. But he just stared into her eyes, and he remembered why he fell in love with her in his universe. The pale flecks of color in her iris caught the moonlight, bringing him back to another time, another place—where those same eyes had looked at him with adoration rather than defiance.

Then reality crashed back upon him like a wave. His eyes widened with shock, horror flashing across his perfect features as he realized what he was doing.

A flush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks pink, a color that looked alien on his usually controlled face. His jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle twitched violently along his temple.

His hand jerked back as if burned, and he stepped away from the bed, his composure reasserting itself like armor sliding back into place. He was panting softly.

The moment of vulnerability vanished so completely that Y/N might have thought she'd imagined it, if not for the lingering sensation of his touch on her cheek and the haunted look that briefly crossed his features. His shoulders squared, spine straightening as he physically rebuilt his imperial bearing.

"Rest," he ordered, eyes not meeting hers, his tone once again cold and commanding. "Your strength will be required soon."

Biting his lip softly, he turned and strode to the door, his back rigid with tension, shoulders squared as if preparing for battle. The moonlight made the white of his uniform glow almost ethereally, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist—perfect Viltrumite physiology enhanced by years of conquest. ~ Body Teaaa 💅~

"I must ensure the destruction continues as planned," he said without looking back, his voice carefully modulated to betray no emotion. "Another will watch over you."

The door closed behind him as he took off, leaving Y/N alone in the moonlit cabin. The sudden absence of his overwhelming presence left the air feeling lighter, easier to breathe.

Her face flushed as she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her mind racing with the implications of what had just occurred. The cracks in Viltrumite's façade, the momentary tenderness—these were weapons she could use, if she was clever enough. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the path where his hand had touched her cheek, her brow furrowing in thought, Damn that was hot…

She had barely begun to formulate a plan when a sound from outside caught her attention—a distinctive electrical hum that raised the hairs on her arms. It was a sound she knew all too well, one that haunted her nightmares and left her throat constricting with sudden fear.

The sound of a GDA teleportation device.

It happened in seconds, the air around the cabin heating up, molecules vibrating with increasing energy.

Y/N watched as the atmosphere wavered, becoming distorted like heat rising from hot pavement. The familiar blue glow of the teleportation field began to form in the center of the room, and she knew the process was about to begin—someone was coming, GDA. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat sending fresh pain through her injured side.

Y/N struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that flared in her side. Panic gave her strength she didn't know she possessed, and she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed just as the air in the center of the cabin shimmered and distorted. Fresh blood began to seep through her bandages, a dark stain spreading across the white fabric as her sudden movement reopened her wounds.

A figure materialized, tall and imposing in the distinctive uniform of the GDA. The moonlight illuminated his face, revealing hard eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. Cecil Stedman, director of the Global Defense Agency, the man who had authorized the experiments that had made her what she was. His thin face looked ghostly in the blue teleportation glow, the light catching on the eye bags around his eyes.

"Finally you're alone," he said, his voice cold with satisfaction. His eyes narrowed as they took in her weakened state, the bandages visible beneath her torn suit, dark stains of blood seeping through the white fabric. "Did you really think we wouldn't find you? We were just waiting for the moment you alone without those stupid variants glued to you."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fight-or-flight instincts screaming even as her body refused to cooperate. She opened her mouth to respond, but Cecil was already moving, the old man's gaze sweeping the cabin until it landed on something on the kitchen counter. His thin lips pressed into a line of concentration, his movements efficient despite his age.

The broken collar. The pieces had been laid out carefully, presumably by Omni as he assessed whether it could be repaired. The moonlight glinted off the metal components, making them look like fragments of ice rather than the instrument of control they truly were.

"How convenient," Cecil murmured, moving to collect the fragments. A satisfied smile stretched across his thin lips, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. "Can't have alien technology falling into the wrong hands, can we? Especially not these hands."

Y/N tried to stand, her legs trembling with the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead as pain shot through her side, causing her to wince visibly. Her jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her. The wooden floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet, the room spinning slightly at the edges of her vision.

"You don't understand," she managed, her voice stronger than she expected. Her eyes flashed with defiance despite the pallor of her skin. "They're not just—"

"Variants of Invincible?" Cecil cut her off, his thin lips curling in a humorless smile. His eyes, cold and calculating, narrowed as he studied her.

"Oh, we understand exactly what they are. The fuckers ripping apart our planet, killing billions!" His voice rose slightly, a vein pulsing at his temple, his carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal genuine fury beneath. "What we don't understand is why our most valuable asset decided to join forces with them."

"I didn't—" Y/N's face contorted with frustration, her eyes widening with the urgency to make him understand. A lock of hair fell across her face as she leaned forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bed. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, metallic and warm on her tongue as she hisses, why am I so weak?!

"Save it," he snapped, pocketing the collar fragments in his suit. The harsh lines around his mouth deepened as he frowned, making him look even older. "You had one mission, and you failed. You're coming back with me now. The experiments aren't finished, and you're far too valuable to leave in the hands of these... aberrations. Even if our planet if falling apart."

Y/N's fingers curled around the edge of the mattress, searching for stability. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths, each one sending a ripple of pain through her injured side.

"I can't go back," she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to Cecil, pupils dilating with fear. "I can't live like that again—controlled, unable to feel, to think outside the parameters they set." Her voice broke slightly at the memory, cracking on the final word.

"The collar nearly killed me. Another round of experiments will—"

"That's not your decision to make," Cecil interrupted, his voice flat as he pulled out a small device, pressing several buttons. The blue light from the small screen cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting the cold determination in his eyes. Due to the destruction, normal teleportation has been reduced to remote control.

"This will only take a moment. Try not to struggle—in your condition, it will only make things worse."

Y/N's mind raced, searching for options. The Mark variants were gone, scattered across the planet on their mission of destruction. She was alone, wounded, barely able to stand. But return to the GDA, to the experiments that made her a Viltumite, to the collar that had nearly killed her?

That was a fate worse than death. Her eyes darted around the cabin, seeking anything that might serve as a weapon or distraction.

With a desperate surge of strength, she lunged for the door, trying to fly but it didn't work, she was still to weak. Her face contorted with pain and frustration as her legs gave out after just two steps. She crashed to the floor, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through her side. Blood soaked through her bandages, warm and sticky against her skin. She was no Viltrumite if she couldn't take this simple pain.

But the strangled cry escaped her lips as she pressed her hand against the wound, crimson seeping between her fingers, vivid and alarming against her pale skin. The floor beneath her began to stain with dark droplets, her blood pooling on the worn wooden planks.

Cecil sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. His shoulders slumped slightly before he straightened again, "Always the hard way with you, isn't it?" He moved toward her, device in hand. "Don't worry. Soon enough, you won't remember any of this. A new collar will see to that."

Y/N's vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges. A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at Cecil, her expression a mixture of defiance and despair. Blood continued to seep through her fingers, each heartbeat pushing more of her life force out onto the cabin floor. Her lips trembled with the effort of staying conscious.

The last thing she saw was Cecil standing over her, the teleportation device counting down to activation to teleport two beings. His thin face set in lines of grim determination, the blue light from the device casting ghostly shadows across his features.

Then, a crash as the cabin door burst open, the sound of splintering wood echoing in the small space.

"Get away from her." The voice was cold, utterly devoid of emotion—and yet, somehow, vibrating with barely contained rage.

Omni stood in the doorway, his red and white uniform splattered with dust and blood. His eyes, usually so calculated and distant, burned with an intensity that made him look almost feral. His hands, normally so steady and controlled, trembled slightly at his sides. The moonlight cast half his face in shadow, highlighting the rigid set of his jaw and the dangerous flash of his teeth.

Cecil froze, his face draining of color as he took in the sight of the Invincible variant. His eyes darted between Omni and Y/N, rapid calculations visible in his expression. The teleportation device beeped insistently in his hand, the countdown continuing, its blue light pulsing with increasing urgency.

"Look- You don't understand what you're interfering with," Cecil said, his voice steady despite the fear evident in his widened eyes. "Even if you're destroying our planet she… She belongs to the GDA. She's government property...Take everything else but her-"

Omni's nostrils flared, "She belongs to no one," he stated, each word precisely enunciated. He took a step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Especially not to someone who would collar her like an animal."

Y/N, still conscious but barely, watched the exchange through half-lidded eyes. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one sending fresh spikes of pain through her body. The blood pooling beneath her felt warm, too warm—a stark contrast to the cold that seemed to be creeping through her limbs. Her vision tunneled, focusing on Omni's imposing figure, the red of his uniform seeming to blur and shift in the dim light.

Cecil's face hardened, his mouth a thin line of determination even though he could die at any moment. "I can't leave without her," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"She's too valuable. The work we've done—" He broke off, glancing down at Y/N's prone form, his expression a mixture of scientific detachment and genuine concern. The lines around his eyes deepened, betraying a conflict behind his harsh exterior.

Omni moved with inhuman speed, crossing the room in a blur of motion. Before Cecil could react, Omni's hand closed around his throat, lifting the older man off his feet. The teleportation device clattered to the floor, its countdown still ticking, the blue light casting strange shadows across the cabin walls.

"Your work," Omni said, his voice still eerily calm despite the fury blazing in his eyes, "nearly killed her. The collar you designed—" He stopped, something flickering across his face—a memory, perhaps, of his own Y/N. His grip tightened momentarily before he seemed to regain control, his fingers adjusting with mathematical precision to maintain pressure without crushing Cecil's windpipe. "You will not take her. Not now. Not ever."

Cecil's face reddened as he struggled for breath, his hands clawing ineffectually at Omni's iron grip. "You... don't... understand," he gasped, his voice a raspy whisper. "Without... the collar... she's... unstable."

Y/N's eyes widened at this, a fresh surge of adrenaline clearing some of the fog from her mind. "Liar," she managed, her voice weak but clear. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she pushed herself up on one elbow, her face contorted with the effort. Her skin had taken on an alarming pale, making the blood on her lips stand out like crimson against snow.

"The collar... was killing me. You knew... and you kept... pushing."

Omni's eyes flicked to Y/N, something softening in his gaze as he took in her bloodied form. The harsh detachment slipped for a moment, revealing raw concern beneath. His perfect posture faltered, a momentary slouch betraying his distress before he straightened again with a huff.

Then his attention returned to Cecil, his expression hardening once more, eyes cold and calculating beneath the black lenes of his mask covering his eyes.

"I should kill you, slow… and painfuly, just like i’ve killed so many others" he stated, his tone suggesting he was merely making an observation. "It would be... logical. Efficient." His thumb pressed against Cecil's carotid artery with precise pressure, a demonstration of how easily he could end the older man's life with a flick of his thumb.

Cecil's eyes bulged, his face now purple from lack of oxygen. His feet kicked uselessly in the air, his hands still trying to break Omni's grip. The veins in his temples stood out prominently, throbbing with each desperate heartbeat.

Y/N watched, her vision swimming. Part of her—the part that remembered the pain, the experiments, the collar that had nearly killed her—wanted Omni to do it. To end Cecil's life and with it, the threat of returning to that existence. But another part, the part that still clung to some sense of who she had been before all this, couldn't bear to watch. Her eyes, though clouded with pain, retained a spark of humanity that she feared losing.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She coughed, the action sending fresh pain through her side, blood spraying from her lips in a fine mist. "Not... worth it."

Omni's head tilted slightly, considering her words. His grip on Cecil's throat loosened fractionally, allowing the older man to draw in a ragged breath. "He hurt you," Omni said, his voice so quiet only Y/N could hear it. For a moment, the mask of detachment slipped completely, revealing a depth of emotion that shocked her. His eyes, usually so cold, burned with a protective fury that bordered on madness. A muscle in his jaw worked silently, betraying the battle between logic and emotion raging within him.

"I know," Y/N acknowledged, her eyes meeting his beneath his mask.

She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, blood staining her teeth. "But I'm... not like him. Not yet." Her eyes pleaded with him, even as her strength began to fade. "Don't... become what he... thinks you are. You can be kind, I know you can."

Omni stood perfectly still for a long moment, his face a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Then, with a movement so sudden it was almost invisible, he hurled Cecil across the room. The older man crashed into the wall with a sickening crack, then slumped to the floor, unconscious but alive. A thin trickle of blood running from his receding hairline down his temple.

The teleportation device continued its countdown, the beeping more insistent now, the blue light pulsing faster.

Omni moved to Y/N's side, kneeling beside her with a grace that belied his power. His large hands, capable of such destruction, were gentle as they carefully lifted her. His face, usually so controlled, showed open concern as he took in the extent of her injuries. The front of her bandages was now completely soaked through with blood, the white fabric stained a deep crimson.

"You're bleeding heavily," he whispered, his voice soft once more, though his eyes betrayed his worry. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he saw the blood soaking through her bandages. "The fall reopened your wound...Y/n."

Y/N tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The room was spinning now, darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. She felt Omni's arms around her, solid and warm, as he lifted her from the floor. His heartbeat, steady and strong against her cheek, was oddly comforting. He partially melted into her touch, cradling her with a tenderness that belied his fearsome reputation. He would keep her safe—this certainty radiated from him, wrapping around her like a protective shield.

"Stay with me," Omni commanded, his voice taking on a note of urgency that broke through his usual detachment. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. The black lenses of his mask couldn't hide the desperation in his gaze as he leaned closer, the harsh lines of his jaw tightening with concern. "Y/N, focus on my voice. Stay conscious."

Y/N tried to obey, but the darkness was too inviting, the pain too overwhelming. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, fluttering closed despite her best efforts. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, painting a crimson trail down her ashen cheek. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness creeping through her limbs.

The last thing she heard before unconsciousness claimed her was the urgent beeping of the teleportation device and Omni's voice, suddenly clear and filled with raw emotion, "I won't lose you. Not again." His large gloved hand cupped her cheek with surprising tenderness, thumb carefully wiping blood from her parted lips. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike the calculated precision with which he typically moved, that had she been conscious, it would have stunned her.

As darkness engulfed her senses, Y/N's mind spiraled into fever dreams. She felt herself being lifted, placed back on the old bed, the springs creaking beneath their combined weight. Through the haze of unconsciousness, she imagined Omni's voice, broken and desperate, "Stay with me Y/N... feel me... God, I—"

She felt his large hands guiding her legs around his hips as he leaned over her, his powerful frame encompassing her own. The heat from his body seeped through her clothes, warming her chilled skin. His presence was overwhelming, consuming her senses entirely.

"Stop me... Y/n, tell me to stop..." The words were a plea, not a command. His voice, usually so controlled, now ragged with need. A strangled groan escaped him as his head came to rest on her chest, between the valley of her breasts, his rough hair brushing against her suit. The friction sent unexpected sparks of pleasure coursing through her body.

He nuzzled closer, allowing her to feel the unmistakable hardness pressing between her legs. His hips rolled against hers with exquisite restraint, the motion so gentle yet devastating in its effect. Her body responded with an intensity that shocked her, a sensation she had never experienced before.

Y/N awoke with a startled gasp, her eyes flying open, heart hammering against her ribcage. Sunlight was barely peeking through the broken window, bathing the cabin in the golden light of sunrise. The dream's vividness left her disoriented, unsure of what was real and what wasn't.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, a flush spreading down her neck to her collarbone. Her mouth was dry, yet she felt an unfamiliar wetness between her legs, a persistent throb that confused her. As an experiment, these sensations were entirely new territory—her body responding in ways she didn't understand. She panted heavily, trying to calm her racing heart as she pushed the vivid images from her mind, focusing instead on the dull ache in her side.

When Y/N fully regained consciousness, the cabin was illuminated by the soft glow of dawn. Her side throbbed with a persistent ache, but the searing pain had subsided. She was back in the bed, fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. The coppery taste of blood lingered in her mouth, but she felt stronger than before.

She wasn't alone. Omni sat in a chair beside the bed, his posture perfect even in repose. His uniform was still stained with dust and blood, suggesting he hadn't left her side since the confrontation with Cecil. He leaned over the bed, his arm on the edge, hands curled around each other as he pressed his forehead to his palms. His eyes were closed beneath his mask, but she could tell from the tension in his jaw that he wasn't sleeping. The muscles around his mouth twitched occasionally, betraying that his mind was far from restful. He had remained vigilant all night, watching over her with an intensity that spoke of something beyond mere duty.

"You stayed," she said, her voice raspy but stronger than it had been the night before.

Omni's eyes snapped open beneath the lenses, instantly alert. He straightened in the chair, shoulders squaring as if caught in a moment of weakness. He leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking beneath the shift in weight. His gaze swept over her with clinical precision, cataloging every detail of her condition. Something flickered across his face—relief, unmistakable and profound—before his features settled back into their usual controlled mask. The momentary softening around his eyes disappeared so quickly she might have imagined it.

His nose twitched slightly, nostrils flaring as he caught a scent. His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch behind his mask, his head dipping to glance at her midsection then back to her face, a fleeting expression of surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features once more.

"It was the logical course of action," he stated, his voice neutral, though a slight tremor betrayed him. "Your condition was... unstable."

Y/N's lips curved into a small smile, her eyes softening as she looked at him. A stray lock of hair fell across her forehead, and she made no move to brush it away. "You can show me emotions," she hummed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet cabin. "It's just you and me."

Something in her chest tightened as she realized she was beginning to feel drawn to this red and gray suited Invincible variant. Among all of them, he had been consistently the most protective, the most considerate of her wellbeing. Even now, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for her, spoke of a care that went beyond his calculated exterior.

Y/N tried to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at her injured side. Fresh beads of sweat formed at her hairline from the effort, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she suppressed a groan. Omni's hand shot out, steadying her with surprising gentleness. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, his fingers warm against her skin.

He brushed his fingertips over her face, almost reverently, as if memorizing every feature. The pad of his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, his breathing noticeably changing—becoming deeper, more measured, as if he was fighting for control. When he finally pulled away, it seemed to require conscious effort, his hand retreating reluctantly.

"Cecil?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what had happened after she lost consciousness. Her brow furrowed with concern, a vertical crease forming between her eyebrows.

Omni's expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The perfect line of his mouth tightened, eyes hardening behind his mask. "Gone," he said simply. "The teleportation device activated before I could disable it. He escaped with the collar fragments."

Y/N exhaled slowly, relief and dread mingling in her chest. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it away from her face. Her fingers trembled slightly with the lingering weakness from blood loss. "He'll be back," she said, her voice steady despite the fear churning in her stomach. Her pupils dilated slightly, the only visible sign of her anxiety.

"Yes," Omni agreed, his tone matter-of-fact. "That is the most probable outcome."

Y/N studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. Despite his clinical demeanor, something about him seemed... different. Fractured, somehow. The perfect control he maintained seemed to be costing him more effort than usual.

"Why did you help me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. "Why not let him take me? It would have been... logical." She used his own word deliberately, watching for his reaction, her head tilting slightly to one side.

Omni's eyes met hers, and for a moment, his mask slipped completely. The raw emotion in his gaze—grief, longing, determination—took her breath away. His perfect composure cracked, revealing the man beneath the calculated exterior. With deliberate movements, he reached up and removed the mask covering his eyes. The black lenses that had hidden his expression were gone, allowing Y/N to see the full intensity of his gaze.

His eyes were a startling blue, unlike the others; deep and clear as mountain lakes after a storm. They were red-rimmed from exhaustion, the skin beneath them slightly darkened, but they burned with an emotion that made her heart skip a beat. Long lashes framed those expressive eyes, a stark contrast to the hardness of his other features; his angular jawline, the straight nose, the firm set of his lips all softened by the naked emotion in his gaze.

"Because I watched you die once," he said, his voice low and intense, vibrating with suppressed emotion. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he continued, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he stared at his hands. "I will not do so again."

The control that had been his hallmark was visibly slipping. His breathing quickened, chest rising and falling more rapidly as emotions he'd kept buried threatened to surface. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with the tension.

Y/N's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. The color drained from her face as understanding dawned.

"Your Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I only know from what Sinister said… But I want to hear from you, what happened to her?"

Omni's gaze dropped to his hands, which had curled into fists on his knees. The knuckles whitened with pressure, veins standing out prominently. When he looked up again, his expression was carefully controlled once more, though his eyes still burned with that same intensity.

"She had cancer," he said finally, each word seeming to cost him. "A human weakness I couldn't fight. I tried everything—" his voice caught, Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he swallowed. "Every treatment, every experimental procedure. I exhausted every resource at my disposal, but it wasn't enough."

His breathing quickened slightly, nostrils flaring with the effort of maintaining control. "My father... Omni-Man... he saw her as a distraction. A weakness. Because I spent more time with her than training. Learning." His eyes darkened with remembered rage, pupils contracting to pinpoints. "So he killed her."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. "Then I killed him," he finished quietly, his voice devoid of emotion once more. "And then... I became something else."

Y/N reached out, her hand covering his fist. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt him tense at the contact before slowly relaxing. The hard lines of his knuckles softened beneath her touch.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, her voice soft with genuine sympathy. Her eyes, though tired, were clear and compassionate as they met his. The skin around them crinkled slightly with the sincerity of her expression.

Omni looked at her hand on his, an expression of confusion and wonder crossing his face. His eyebrows drew together slightly, creating a small crease between them. "You are... different from her," he observed, his voice quiet. "More... resilient. Adaptable." His gaze returned to her face, studying her with newfound curiosity. The intensity in his eyes softened to something almost like admiration. "She was gentler. Less... combative."

Y/N smiled slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her split lip. A small bead of blood welled up where the skin had cracked. She absently ran her tongue over the injury, tasting copper. "I'm not her," she said gently but firmly, her eyes never leaving his that were drawn to her lips. "Just as you're not my Mark... cause I don't have one."

Omni blinked, nodded slowly, accepting the truth of her words. "I am aware," he said, his voice regaining some of its clinical detachment, though his eyes remained unguarded. "Yet the similarities are... significant." The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. "I- I want…Perhaps I could be... a new Mark in your life? Only yours."

Despite his dominant demeanor and controlled exterior, there was something vulnerable in the way he leaned toward her now, something almost submissive in his posture. As if beneath the calculating facade, he was desperate for her approval, her acceptance. His eyes, now unshielded by his mask, couldn't hide the truth—if she asked kindly, he would do anything she requested. He couldn't help but lean in closer, drawn to her by a need that transcended logic or reason.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the shift in his demeanor. This powerful being—capable of such destruction, so clinical and detached—was looking at her with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. The juxtaposition was striking, his imposing physique and the gentle way he now regarded her, like a fierce predator suddenly revealing its softer nature. She had no future with GDA anymore, these variants were about to become her only world.

"I'd like that," she whispered, her voice barely audible even in the quiet cabin. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a fraction of a second before returning to meet his gaze, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

Something in Omni's expression changed—the last threads of his restraint visibly snapping. In one fluid motion, he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip with exquisite gentleness.

"May I?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion, eyes searching hers for permission.

Y/N nodded, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

Omni's lips met hers with surprising tenderness. The contrast was striking—his lips soft and warm against her chapped ones. He kissed her as if she might shatter, his large frame hovering over her smaller one, careful not to put weight on her injured body. The scent of him filled her senses—clean sweat, leather from his uniform, and something distinctly male that made her head swim.

The kiss deepened slowly, his mouth moving against hers with careful precision. His tongue gently traced the seam of her lips, requesting entry rather than demanding it. When she parted them, he explored her mouth with the same methodical attention he brought to everything—learning what made her breath hitch, what drew small sounds from her throat.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, supporting her as their connection intensified. He tasted her split lip carefully, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the sweetness of their kiss. Y/N felt his chest rumble with a suppressed groan as she tentatively met his tongue with her own, her inexperience evident but her eagerness making up for it.

The controlled precision that defined his every movement was still present, but now channeled into something else entirely—each touch calculated to bring her pleasure without pain. His massive frame dwarfed hers as he moved closer, the bed creaking beneath their combined weight.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Omni immediately rested his forehead against hers. His usually stern face was transformed by a softness Y/N had never seen before. His lips were reddened and slightly swollen from their kiss, his piercing blue eyes half-lidded with a mixture of desire and wonder. A faint flush colored his high cheekbones, spreading down to disappear beneath the collar of his uniform.

"I never thought I'd feel this again," he whispered, his warm breath fanning across her face. "After she died, I locked everything away. Became... cold. Analytical." The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, self-deprecating smile that transformed his usually severe features. "Efficient."

Y/N's own face was flushed, her pupils dilated, lips parted and tingling from his attention. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, the sensation of his kiss still lingering like an imprint on her skin.

"I noticed something earlier," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Your scent changed." His pupils dilated as he spoke, nearly eclipsing the blue of his irises. A slight crease appeared between his brows, his expression a mixture of scientific curiosity and unmistakable desire. "It was... intriguing."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Her cheeks burned hotter, the flush spreading down her neck to the tops of her breasts visible above her torn clothing. "My scent?"

A small, genuine smile curved his lips—perhaps the first real smile she'd seen from him. It transformed his face completely, softening the hard angles and revealing a glimpse of who he might have been in another life, one with less pain and loss. The skin around his eyes crinkled, small lines appearing that spoke of smiles long forgotten.

"You were dreaming," he explained, his voice taking on a note of tender amusement. His thumb traced small circles against the nape of her neck, the sensation sending pleasant shivers down her spine. "Your body responded... physically."

Understanding dawned, and Y/N's face flamed with embarrassment. She tried to look away, but Omni gently cupped her cheek, guiding her face back to his. His palm was warm against her skin, his touch reverent.

"Don't be ashamed," he said softly, his expression earnest and open. His eyes, so startlingly blue, held no judgment—only fascination and something deeper, more primal. The hard line of his jaw had softened, his perpetual frown replaced by parted lips and gentle eyes. "It's natural. Beautiful, even." His eyes darkened with something like sadness, the corners turning down slightly. "They never let you experience this, did they? The GDA. They kept you from feeling... everything."

Y/N shook her head, her throat tight with emotion. "The collar suppressed everything," she whispered. "Emotions, sensations... they said it was necessary to control the Viltrumite abilities. To keep me stable."

Anger flashed in Omni's eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared, lips pressing into a thin line as his face hardened momentarily. "They lied," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "They feared what you might become if you were allowed to feel. To be whole."

His expression softened as he looked at her, the hard lines of anger melting away. The severe set of his mouth relaxed, his eyes warming from icy rage to tender concern. With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, he shifted to sit beside her on the bed, his back against the headboard. The mattress dipped under his considerable weight, the old springs protesting.

Gently, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He settled her against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, his powerful arms creating a protective circle around her smaller frame. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear.

"Let me show you," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Let me show you what it means to feel. Not just... physically." His voice dropped lower, the words rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. "Though I would very much like to explore that aspect as well, when you're healed."

Y/N relaxed against him, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear comforting. His fingers traced patterns on her arm, each touch sending small sparks of pleasure along her skin. The sensation was new, overwhelming in its intensity—without the collar, every nerve ending seemed hypersensitive.

"I'd like that," she whispered, turning her face up to his. Her eyes were bright despite her exhaustion, her lips curved in a small, shy smile. The pallor of her skin had given way to a healthier flush, color returning to her cheeks.

Omni's smile was gentle as he bent to press his lips to her forehead. His eyes closed briefly, thick lashes fanning against his cheeks as he savored the contact. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to touch anyone with tenderness, to feel anything beyond cold calculation and rage. The muscles in his face, usually so rigid with control, relaxed into an expression of profound relief.

"First, you must heal," he said, clinical pragmatism returning to his voice, though his eyes remained soft. "Your body needs time to recover."

But even as he spoke, his lips moved from her forehead to her temple, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Y/N's breath hitched as he placed feather-light kisses along the column of her throat, each one sending a new wave of sensation through her body. His hot breath ghosted over her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The contrast between his clinical words and his tender actions drew a small, breathless laugh from her.

"Although," he murmured against her skin, his lips vibrating against her pulse point, "there are ways I can help you explore these new sensations without compromising your recovery."

His hand moved to cup her face, tilting it up so he could claim her lips once more. His large palm engulfed the side of her face, fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer. Their lips met with more urgency this time, his control slipping as he responded to her eager reciprocation. The kiss was deeper than before, more assured—his tongue sliding against hers in a dance that left her dizzy and wanting. His teeth gently captured her bottom lip, tugging slightly before releasing it to soothe the sting with his tongue.

Y/N's inexperienced movements were awkward at first, but she quickly learned to follow his lead, mimicking his actions. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the taut muscle beneath his uniform. A small whimper escaped her throat as he angled her head to deepen the kiss further, his expertise evident in every calculated movement.

When they broke apart again, both flushed and breathing heavily, Omni's eyes had darkened to stormy blue. His carefully controlled exterior had cracked completely, revealing the raw need beneath. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising tenderness.

"Your Y/N," she began, her voice rough with emotion. "She never experienced this? With you?"

Omni's expression turned somber, a shadow passing over his features. The light in his eyes dimmed, his mouth turning down at the corners as painful memories resurfaced. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.

"No," he admitted quietly. "She wanted to wait. And I respected her wishes." His jaw tightened, grief and anger momentarily darkening his gaze. The veins in his temple became more prominent as his face hardened with suppressed rage. "Then my father killed her, and I lost my chance to show her how much I treasured her."

His eyes met Y/N's, fierce with a new determination. The blue of his irises seemed to glow with intensity, his gaze burning into hers. "I won't make that mistake again," he vowed. "If you'll allow it, I'll show you everything they denied you. Every sensation, every emotion. I'll help you discover what it means to truly live. Soon… I swear my dove."

The intensity of his gaze made Y/N's heart race. She reached up, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "I'm not her," she reminded him gently. "I can't replace what you lost."

"I know," he said, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. His lips lingered on her skin, warm and soft. "You're not a replacement. You're something new. Something... unexpected." His eyes softened as they studied her face, taking in every detail—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips, the flecks of color in her eyes. "Something precious. I want to move on, to start something new with you."

With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, Omni gently placed her back on the bed, moving to hover over her. His massive frame blocked out the light from the window as he positioned himself above her, his knees on either side of her hips, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of her head to avoid putting pressure on her wounded body. The bed creaked beneath them, protesting the shift in weight.

He began to explore her body with gentle touches. His lips traced a path from her mouth to her jaw, then down the sensitive skin of her neck. Each kiss was reverent, worshipful, as if he was mapping terrain he had dreamed of but never expected to discover. His stubble scraped lightly against her soft skin, the slight roughness a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.

Y/N gasped as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the material of his uniform. The sensations were overwhelming, unlike anything she had experienced before—without the collar suppressing her responses, her body reacted with an intensity that left her breathless.

"Beautiful," Omni murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating against her pulse point. His large body completely encompassed her smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room from her view. The size difference between them was stark—his hand alone could almost span her entire waist, his thigh thicker than both of hers combined. Yet there was no fear in her response to him, only wonder at the gentleness such strength could display.

"So responsive. So alive." His hand moved to rest at her waist, careful to avoid her bandaged wound. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin material of her clothing, branding her skin. "Tell me if anything hurts, if you want me to stop."

Y/N could only nod, words beyond her as his exploration continued. His hand skimmed up her side, tracing the curve of her waist, the outline of her ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, a touch so light it might have been accidental if not for the intent focus in his eyes as he gauged her reaction. Her breath caught, back arching slightly into his touch without conscious thought.

Omni watched her reactions with fascination, adjusting his approach based on the smallest change in her breathing or the subtle tensing of her muscles. His eyes, normally so cold and analytical, now burned with heat as he cataloged every gasp, every flutter of her eyelids, every unconscious movement of her body seeking more contact.

"They stole this from you," he whispered, his voice tight with anger as he looked up at her flushed face. A vein pulsed in his temple, his jaw clenching momentarily before he visibly forced himself to relax. "They denied you the most basic human experiences. The right to feel pleasure, to connect with another person… But it saved you for me, my dove."

Y/N caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were bright with determination, her cheeks flushed with color that had nothing to do with her injuries. "Then help me reclaim it," she said, her voice stronger than it had been since her injury. Her eyes burned with determination, a new spark of life that had been missing before. "Help me discover what they took from me."

Something like awe crossed Omni's face as he looked at her. His eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise at her boldness. "You truly are remarkable," he said softly. "So different from her, yet just as captivating. Perhaps more so–No you are more."

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time with a passion that left no doubt of his intentions. His hand slid up her side, carefully avoiding her injury, coming to rest just below her breast. He paused there, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. His red mask lay discarded at the edge of the bed—every emotion visible in his expressive eyes, the tense line of his jaw, the slight tremble of his lips.

Omni was on his hands and knees above her now, Y/N's body cradled between his powerful limbs. His broad shoulders blocked out the light from the window, casting his face in shadow except for the startling blue of his eyes. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, creating a cocoon that held just the two of them, separate from the world outside.

"May I?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. His hand hovering just below her breast, waiting for permission to continue. He wouldnt touch her out permission.

Y/N nodded, her lips parted in anticipation, eyes never leaving his. She reached up to touch his face, fingers tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the stubble along his jaw. His skin was hot beneath her fingertips, flushed with desire. She couldn’t believe this was real.

Omni's hand moved higher, palm cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her top. His touch was gentle but assured, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in a way that drew a gasp from her lips. His eyes darkened at the sound, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remained.

His other hand slid along her thigh, fingers tracing patterns on the fabric covering her leg. The heat of his palm seeped through the material, warming her skin. His touch was purposeful yet hesitant, as if fighting against his own desires to ensure he didn't hurt her.

Just as his hand began to move higher up her thigh, the cabin door burst open with a splintering crack. Wood fragments scattered across the floor as the door nearly ripped from its hinges. The silhouette of the form panting, hissing with anger.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD OMNI–!”

––––––––––

☆ Hehe~ Cliffhanger (∩˃o˂∩)

☆ If you couldn't tell, I might have a favorite variant... hehe well, I have 3, but it's so hard to incorporate all of them equally. Omni seemed the wisest choice to be y/n's first kiss (ㅅ´ ˘ `) my boi was desperate for his Pookie

☆ Sad to say, I won't be posting for a while, I need a break after this grind, lol !!Pt.6!!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

652 notes · View notes

coolwyous · 4 months ago

Text

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

⊹ ࣪ ˖ your professor contacts you to ask if you’d be willing to share your notes with a classmate that has requested a bit of help. you’re more than happy to help, until resident hockey star megan skeindiel is hitting you up every week, expectantly waiting for you to hand them over...

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey player! megan skiendiel x english major!f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 10k, college au! one-sided enemies to friends, friends to lovers, dorky hockey jock megan, mostly fluff tbh

➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - njz

┈─★ a/n: wigline was giving boyfriend in that livestream and i was trying to decide what sport before i was struck w the idea of megan and her beanie bros as wanna-be-frat-boy hockey stars. planning on making this part of a larger universe, goalie!lara and captain!dani coming next. enjoy!

eng121: intro to british literature. meets tuesday and thursday from 11:00 to 12:15.

you’re always a few minutes early, an easy walk considering your world history lecture is just upstairs. you’ve always been punctual, thus why you’re first to class every time. it’s definitely not so you can get a front row seat in the lecture hall to make a good impression on your favorite professor teaching your favorite subject.

the lecture hall starts to slowly trickle in. you don’t know anyone in this class, which is okay– you’re there to focus anyways, and given that your grade is an impeccable 98% by the end of week 5, you figure you’re doing something right. of course, minji and belle would say you’re doing way too much, every late night study session you pick instead of joining them for another party celebrating the hockey team–

your mind trails to thoughts of that damn women’s hockey team. they’re loud, they’re arrogant, and worst of all, they’re everywhere.

you hope they’re gone on an away game today. it’s so much easier to focus when they’re not there.

but unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. the idiots come bursting in through the door. a curly haired blonde, a grinning brunette with red tips, and the tallest of the three, a button-nosed ginger. each wearing the team’s signature letterman jacket. you hate the sight of that damn letterman jacket.

they’re rough housing with each other, pushing and shoving, until eventually, one of them crashes into your desk, sending your bookbag and its contents flying. you feel your teeth grit together— any closer and it would have been your coffee all over your brand new laptop.

“sorry, sorry,” the blonde screech-laughs, scrambling to catch herself before she tumbles. you spot the hickeys shamelessly scattered on her neck. you wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if she had showed up half drunk to class.

“bro, pick them up for her at least,” the red-haired one laughs.

“i got it,” you say through gritted teeth. you want to say as little as possible to these idiots.

but it’s the tall one who is kneeling down with you, scooping up your pens in her hands, offering them to you all while avoiding your gaze. “uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

“it’s fine.”

“cool miffy eraser.”

“thanks.”

is she expecting you to thank her? for picking up four pens and an eraser that her friend dropped?

your professor clears his throat once the teaching assistant arrives, signaling the start of class. the three stooges share a look between themselves before hurrying up the steps of the lecture hall, making their way up to a back row where you’re certain they’re planning to just good off and distract everyone for the rest of class.

you sigh as you return to your seat and focus on the words in front of you on your laptop. you hate hockey.

“hi y/n,” sophia, the delightfully nice upperclassman TA of your course approaches you as class ends. “got a minute?”

you nod, packing up your backpack. sophia has taught a few lessons in the course, her powerpoints engaging and meticulous, and you can’t help but admire how perfectly she navigates the content. talk about goals.

“the university resource center reached out to us and said a student is requesting accommodations. a note-taker is all they’re asking for. that means we can find someone in class to assign to take notes for the student.”

“me?” your eyebrows arch as your realize what she’s asking.

“i’ve been grading your class’ discussion posts. you very clearly love british literature.” she smiles, and you feel your neck burn at the compliment. “it’s a decent pay, and you can just offer whatever notes you’re already taking. we just need to let the student know by friday. let me know?”

minji gives you the push you need when you get home to your dorm later that day and explain your situation to your roommates.

“you’re already taking the notes. might as well get your bag,” she shrugs from her bed where she’s playing animal crossing.

belle nods in agreement. “plus, you love being helpful. our bleeding heart.”

you roll your eyes and shoot an email to sophia, receiving a smiley face as her reply just a few minutes later.

you printed out your notes up to that point in the quarter to have them ready for thursday’s lecture. sophia said she’ll introduce the two of you at the end of class, all you have to do is hang back. you ruffle through your backpack once class ends, tucking your laptop away as the last of your classmates begin to trickle out the door.

your professor waves to you as he leaves, and you happily get up from your seat to approach sophia.

at least– until you’re cut off by someone clumsily stepping in front of you, in a flash of ginger hair.

your heart drops. no way in hell.

“hi.” she says simply, face unreadable. today, her and the three stooges kept showing tik toks to each other in the middle of lecture, at least three accidentally blasting at full volume. you want to tell her the hell off for always disrupting your favorite class, but sophia’s eyes are eagerly on you, and you want to impress your new mentor.

“hi,” you manage to get out behind gritted teeth.

this girl is way too overdressed for an 11am english lit course. white button up shirt, a messily knotted tie, dickies and that stupid letterman jacket with the leather sleeves. the beanie she usually sports is nowhere to be found, letting you get a better look at her features.

not that you particularly care to look at her. she’s not even giving you the decency to look you in the eyes, instead, just fixing her glance at your hand and pointing.

“i need that,” she finally says after an awkward pause. she points again. “uh, those.”

“you?” you’re still in disbelief. you’re going to spend every thursday after class giving your beautiful, pristine notes to this entitled fuckboy jock?

“unless uh, if you’re not y/n y/ln, and those aren’t for me,” she adds, peeking down at her phone to confirm the details.

“i typed today’s lecture.” you feel a scream bubbling in your chest, but you manage to suppress it. “let me send them to you. let me give you my email.”

“ah, cool.” she hands you her phone, already opened to her student email account. you glance at the cinamoroll phone case, when she finally catches you off guard, adding a quick “thank you.”

“no problem.” well, yes problem, but maybe it’s more of an ego thing. at least she finally said thank you.

“if you could send, uh, all of them. that’d be easier.” the athlete scratches awkwardly at the back of her head. you’re a bit irritated that you wasted all that paper trying to print them and be polite, but whatever. bleeding heart or whatever belle said, you figure you can’t exactly be choosy about your good deeds if you want the karma.

“and we have an away game next week, so i’ll be missing class on tuesday. if you can email me then too…”

“got it.” when did you sign up to be a freaking personal assistant?

“thank you.” she dips her head down, lips pressing together into a fine line. “i’m megan.”

“bye megan,” you wave, before snatching up your backpack and getting the hell out of there.

you’re left in peace next week as the three stooges aren’t there on tuesday.

thursday rolls around, and megan is waiting for you in the hallway by the door again, leaning against the wall. you’re starting to feel extremely irritated by the whole situation. she didn’t even reply to your emails from last week or this week to say thank you for the notes you emailed. at the very least, she could let you know that she got them, right?

“you can just email them, all of them, in the future. save the paper,” she tells you as you hand her your annotated paper copy of that week’s powerpoint. you squint at her and walk off without a word.

the one good thing that comes out of this arrangement is that sophia invites you to get coffee with her after class, and your mentor becomes one of your favorite friends in the span of a week.

“i didn’t know you got accommodations for being a jock that misses half a semester’s worth of class,” you say irritatedly as you pick your order up off the counter.

sophia laughs. “i’m so sorry… they don’t tell me why they need the notes, just that they’re approved for them.”

“ugh, i’d kill for someone to give me all their notes,” minji, who tagged along, complains. “stupid hockey players get everything handed to them.”

“do you think that’s really it though? like they get free access to a notewriter because they miss so much class? and the university obviously wants to keep making money off of them,” you speculate. “holy shit. that’s so unfair.”

“i don’t know anything about how the student athlete system works,” sophia wrinkles her nose.

you’ve already made up your mind. come this thursday, you’re putting your foot down.

thursday’s class comes. megan’s stupid blonde friend does actually spill your coffee this time. now, you’re not only pissed with megan, but pissed with everything that surrounds her. her friends leave the lecture hall with the taller girl trailing behind them, but you grab her by the sleeve to stop her. she’s dressed normally today: beanie, hoodie, sweats, and that stupid jacket on top of it all.

“y/n,” she greets, almost cheerfully. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me, the emails are fine-”

“i don’t think you deserve my notes any more,” you cut her off. you’re waiting for it, the entitlement, the meltdown, whatever it is that shitty people who take advantage of you do, but it never comes.

megan simply wrinkles her nose and shrugs, scratching awkwardly at her forehead.

“well, i’m dyslexic, so there’s that.”

“oh my god.” that’s why she got the accommodation approved. not because she’s a jock. you’re swept over by a wave of instant regret. you pray to god you’ll live this down. “i am so sorry.”

“your notes are also really, really helpful.” megan holds up the paper she had been hiding in her hand. a bright red 72 is circled on the quiz.

“a C?”

“technically a C minus,” she corrects you playfully. “and it’s the best i’ve done on one of these stupid quizzes since the semester started.”

you feel your nose burn with embarrassment. “i’m sorry.”

“i’d be annoyed too if someone took advantage from all my hard work.” she offers a tilt of her head. “i promise i’ll be more grateful.”

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you’re still reeling from megan’s quiet confession. “i was being neurotic.”

“here, ah, put your number in,” she hands you her silly cinnamoroll phone case. “i’ll send you a QR code, you can scan it for free drinks at the cafe. student athlete discount.”

“i’m sorry again,” you grimace.

she shakes her head. the smile playing on her lips stirs something in the pit of your stomach.

“it’s no worries. i’ll see you next week.”

two weeks after your whole expose on megan, you two have fallen into a cordial rhythm of nodding to each other at the end of every class. you appreciate that she acknowledges you now.

however, this does not diminish your burning hatred for the hockey team as a whole.

you’re in the middle of impressing your professor, explaining the contrast between romanticism and modern cynicism, bringing in points you had connected from your intro to philosophy class.

but it’s hard to finish the thoughts when the three stooges are causing a ruckus from their corner of the room. you see lara smack dani in the shoulder, the two struggling to catch their breaths in between silent laughs. megan, stuck in the middle of them, looks clearly distressed.

your eyes meet, and you swear there’s something apologetic in the way she looks at you.

your professor is equally as unpleased as you are, glaring at the trio as you finish your thoughts.

“miss skiendiel? any thoughts?”

you can’t help but feel bad. if anything, megan was the least guilty of the three. it was the other two that were giggling like little stupid frat boys.

“uh yeah,” megan leans back in her chair, clearing her throat. she’s quiet for a few moments before she simply shrugs and scratches at her nose. “ditto, y/ln.”

dani bursts out into laugher and a few other snickers are heard throughout the lecture hall. you grit your teeth. is she too cool to care? you had started to let yourself think that maybe she was more than a mindless jock just coasting through classes so she could focus on playing. but every chance she gets, megan just feeds the fire.

she tries to nod at you after class, but you’re not having it. it surprises you when she steps into your way, ducking her head down to meet your gaze. you curse silently at how much taller she is than you.

“hey,” she chirps.

“what do you want?”

“i’m sorry about them. they’re—“ she pauses, processing your tone. “hold up, are you annoyed with me?”

“i shouldn’t be?” you snap.

“why would you? i was trying to tell them to shut up.”

“and then you opened your mouth, and it was like you couldn’t be bothered. you act like you’re above it all.”

she’s staring at you in disbelief, that stupid beanie obstructing her brows but you can see the confusion in her eyes. those big round puppy dog eyes widen.

“that? y/n, you think my dumb ass is gonna be able to come up with something on the spot right after you just sounded so smart? much less in front of everyone?”

“you’re always so over it.” you roll your eyes, reaching down to grab your backpack. “care at least a little.”

“y/n, listen to me.” megan holds her hand out to stop you and her voice drops, but it’s not threatening. it’s almost… shy? “y/n, you scare the fucking shit out of me. that’s why i’m so quiet. i’m trying to think of what to say.”

you blink back in confusion. “i’m not scary.”

“you’re like a super genius.” the athlete gives you a pleading look. “my brain feels like i dropped it in the toilet and soaked it in rice.”

you laugh at her comparison. she grins and you figure you can forgive her, at least this time.

“that’s dramatic.”

“i’m hopeless. your notes are the only thing keeping me holding on.”

you feel an ache in your chest. megan isn’t all that bad— just a girl desperate to make progress even if she’s sinking.

“are you busy tonight? i can come help you study,” you offer, and you can already hear belle clowning you for your charity work.

her grin widens, exposing the whites of her extremely nice teeth. you feel yourself soften, even if just for a moment.

“you’d be saving my life. i’ll text you my dorm after practice.”

“don’t stand me up,” you warn. you wonder if it went to your head, hearing megan admit you intimidate her.

but then her lips curl into a playful smile, nodding as she strides backwards out of the classroom. “yeah, ditto, y/n. i better see you then.”

you’re in her building as soon as she texts you that she’s out just a few hours later. you double check the number on the door and feel your heart pound as her neighbor walks out, eyeing you up and down before heading down the hall. ugh, you pray you don’t look desperate.

“megan?” you call out, knocking on the door. the door gives way, clearly not locked or even closed all the way, and you immediately spot the flash of bright orange hair. she’s hunched over in front of her bed, eyes fixed on the laptop with a set of headphones covering her ears. her hair is in two braids falling over her shoulders.

“y/n! sorry, these things are noise cancelling,” she apologizes, motioning for you to come join her. you step in, and she tries to turn the laptop away from you, which you flag as suspicious. “i got started without you.”

you lean over a little further and roll your eyes as you see what’s actually pulled up. it’s a hockey game.

“so much for studying time, skiendiel.”

“no, no,” she says hurriedly, pulling the headphones completely off her head. “i’m listening to your notes. look.”

she pulls up her phone and true to her word, she’s using speech to text to read the document out through her headphones.

your heart breaks at her brows furrowing together, those dark eyes pleading up at you. she’s just a fucking puppy.

“it’s the only way i can focus. i have to watch my games back to relax. i already did my workouts, ate, packed for tomorrow. it’s the only way i can fit everything in and not go crazy.”

“i can read them to you,” you offer.

“i can read,” megan wrinkles her nose. “i just waste more energy trying to figure it out than actually retaining anything.”

“i can read, and explain it to you,” you modify your initial suggestion, before you even realize what you’re doing. why are you so eager to help this girl? a month ago you were complete strangers, and she was the bane of your existence.

but there she is, the jock you hoped would never show up to class again, looking up at you with the most round brown eyes that keep rustling something in you. is it pity?

“you must think i’m so fucking stupid,” she grimaces, shaking her head.

“i think you’re willing to work hard,” you tell her gently. “that counts for a lot in my book, actually.”

she says nothing, flipping open her copy of the class textbook. but the look she gives you, warm and full of gratitude, says everything.

you two spend the next hour, criss crossed on her floor, papers and books strewn around you. your review is going better than you anticipated: she’s quiet, focused, and attentive to all the comparisons you draw.

“i hate this fuckass romantic period,” megan hisses as you finish your next reading of a lord byron piece. you noticed her brows furrowing halfway through as she tries to keep up. “so much poetry bullshit.”

“you’re good at poetry. it’s all metaphors for big feelings,” you encourage her, before a memory that comes to mind helps carry your point across. “the thing you said about your brain the other day was an amazing metaphor.”

“that? my brainrot? i speak like that ‘cause i can’t figure out how to say what i really want.”

you realize what it is, your question from earlier. it isn’t pity. megan is just a nervous, hard-on-herself girl, stuck in the expectations of others, a victim even to your unfair judgement. literature has always come easily to you– you can’t imagine how hard it must be for someone to be trying to navigate that at a disadvantage and still give it their all.

you put a finger on it. it’s not pity. it’s admiration.

“it paints a picture, perfectly,” you tell her, pushing back against what you realize is her constant cloud of self-doubt. she shakes her head, but the smile is there, telling you you’ve broken through to her. you press on, preparing the next passage to read out loud. “just imagine these old white dudes are trying to do the same.”

you don’t finish up until 10pm, when her roommate enters and seems genuinely surprised to see you both.

“hi marsh,” she greets.

“ah, i was wondering why our neighbor warned me that you had a girl over,” the accented girl greets, grinning cheekily. “they couldn’t possibly imagine you’d just be studying.”

you see megan’s face burn red. you laugh to cover up the flash of heat that takes to your neck from the speculation.

“they’re conspiring against me ‘cause i’m really not like that,” megan groans, standing up hurriedly. “you’re gonna make my tutor think i’m a piece of shit.”

“don’t let her fool you,” the brunette smiles warmly, pointing at megan. “heart of gold, this one.”

“ah okay, now that’s too much.” megan tries to bury her face in her shoulder awkwardly, handing you your shoes. “let me walk you out.”

belle texts you to remind you that she’s outside the dorm to pick up dinner with you, like you had agreed. megan walks you down, waving awkwardly to your roommate before turning to you with that same awkward wave.

“uh, bye. thank you again. made a lot of sense when you broke it down.”

“i’m happy to come by again soon, if it made a difference,” you smile.

“only if you were already planning to study by yourself. don’t go out of your way for me,” she tells you forcefully.

“i’m happy to,” you reassure her. “good night megan.”

maybe you catch her off guard by saying her name, but the way her eyes widen makes you laugh. there’s something charming about her undeniable awkwardness. she waves again, and watches carefully from the building doors as you stride up to belle, waiting for you on a nearby bench.

“that’s your charity project?” she questions, “your horrible hockey jock?”

“i might’ve been quick to judge,” you admit, looking over your shoulder. megan is still there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you guys walk off. “she’s not all bad.”

“not all bad? you made her seem irredeemable,” belle laughs, looping her arm in yours.

her only crime is liking hockey and being awkward. you sigh, and belle changes the subject, but you’re stuck thinking about it for the rest of the night. megan deserves a chance to show you who she is before you decide it for her.

and she does exactly that. megan, once she feels more comfortable, turns out to be a complete goofball. you’re laughing so hard at her stupid jokes one study session that you cough up red bull out of your nose and megan nearly passes out laughing with you. megan exposes that despite the hockey player stereotype, she is completely harmless. you watch her awkwardly let people cut her in line, or sip a drink made incorrectly when you get coffee together, all because she’s too nervous to speak up. megan is a mama’s girl and has nightly calls with her mom, sometimes interrupting your sessions, but she’s quick to mumble an ‘i love you too, mom,’ when she thinks you can’t hear her. and you learn that megan, more than anything, loves hockey.

megan is also insanely humble, and is used to hard work. you start to realize just how much the athlete has on her plate.

you guys are leaving class one day, trying to decide when your next study session should be, when she explains what a normal day looks like for her. conditioning, nutrition, physical therapy for an old back strain, at least a half hour every night of reviewing her game tapes to see how she could have played better. and that’s not even including the hour-and-a-half practices she attends every day. and in megan’s case, you realized, she shows up an hour early to get a head start. that’s not even to mention the travel time involved with away games.

no wonder she only hangs around those stupid jock friends of hers. with the exception of her roommate, it doesn’t seem like she’d have much time to make friends outside of that.

you’ll admit, however, that lara and daniela are slowly growing on you. dani lives in your dorm building, and lara is the only one with a car on campus, so megan will sometimes end up inviting them to come and study with you guys. lara, confident and forward, is extremely friendly and makes you feel at ease once you stop seeing her as some frat boy wanna-be. dani, a self-proclaimed attention whore that you discover also is extremely emotional, has a laugh so infectious it’s easy to see why her and lara are usually distracted in class.

and then megan, tagging along like their dorky little sibling, constantly begging them to stop drawing attention to themselves. you start to read her face, noticing when she’s dying of embarrassment from something they do.

you start to really know megan, and she lets herself be known, an open and honest response for every question you ask as your friendship deepens over the weeks.

“why do you come to class so dressed up sometimes?” you ask one night, trying to figure out how to help her pre-loop up her tie for the next day. you’re sick of seeing that crooked knot on her neck and offered to teach yourself on youtube to help her out.

“you’re supposed to dress formal on game days.” she explains. “like, to respect the sport or whatever.”

“i see,” you hum, trying to focus on remembering where the next loop goes through. you realize on the days megan is dressed up, you see a ton of people wearing their fan merch. you finally connect the dots. “i didn’t realize this many people liked hockey.”

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a giant nerd and don’t pay attention to sports. hockey is our biggest sport here.” megan teases. “half of our graduates go pro.”

“oh,” you blink. you’re becoming painfully aware of how close you two are, your fingers sliding behind her neck to tuck the tie behind her collar. “you must like the attention.”

“no. i like the game.” megan’s still awkward, but as your friendship has grown, she’s gotten better at correcting your incorrect assumptions. “the attention makes me lose focus.”

“do you wanna go pro?” you ask.

“yes,” megan says, and it’s quiet like a confession.

“i think you can do it.” you say it so confidently, but megan lets out a deep breath that tells you she’s doubted this. you hope she takes your faith in her to heart.

“i would say you should come see a game, but you wouldn’t know the difference if i played great or got my ass beat out there,” she laughs.

“i think you’re the hardest working person i know. you’ll make anything happen.”

“that’s really nice, y/n.” she watches as your fingers finish the final loop, pulling the knot into her collar snugly. “you’ve always been so down to believe in me.”

“promise you won’t forget about me when you make it big?” you grin teasingly. you smooth out her collar around her tie before feeling your neck burn at the proximity between you two. and yet, you don’t find yourself rushing to move away.

megan’s eyes draw to you with something in them, something gentle and different than before.

“of course,” she smiles, but there’s something more. you’re not brave enough to ask her about it.

your phone buzzes you awake. you don’t bother to reach for your glasses, simply seeing 1:29am is enough to irritate you. but then you see the contact photo, a goofy candid of megan with her beanie pulled down over her eyes, and you figure you can’t be that mad.

you slip into the hallway to not wake belle and minji before picking up.

“hi.”

“y/n?” her voice is raspy and so, so sweet. you wonder if she’s just as tired as you are. “what’s up, what do you need?”

“you called me, dumbass.” you laugh. “in the middle of the night, i might add.”

“oh shit, right right,” she says cooly.

you laugh again. megan’s humor is so, so stupid, and you have no clue how she can manage to make you laugh every single time.

“how’s the hotel?” you ask. it’s an away game against washington state.

“too stuffy, and we have a red-eye in like three hours.” she sighs. “daniela just got back from partying and woke me up.”

“at least she didn’t bring anyone back to the room this time,” you say.

“god, please do not remind me of that, y/n,” megan pleads, and you can picture the way she’d give you that panicked glare at the memory. you laugh at the way she told the story when it had first happened– rooming with dani for a game against oregon when the blonde made megan sleep in the bathroom so she could hook up with a sorority girl. megan described being traumatized by what she could hear through the door, and you nearly died of laughter.

“try to sleep. red-eyes can be brutal.”

“i’ll nap when i’m back home,” she reassures you. you’re already planning out what you’ll bring her for lunch as a celebration. you didn’t know much, but you knew that these semi-finals were no joke.

(you don’t mention minji clowning you for tracking the score of the game, and sophia giving you a questioning look when you screamed in the middle of the dining hall once megan’s team had won.)

“i’m literally whispering and dani says i’m making too much noise. i’ll kill her,” megan adds, and you can practically hear the eye-roll.

“you’re not killing anybody, you big dork,” you laugh. “you should go to sleep.”

“fine fine, bye hater.”

“good night, megan.”

“good night, y/n.”

you attempt to pay no mind to the flutter in your chest as you make your way back into your dorm, diving into your bed. before you close your eyes, a text from megan makes that flutter even harder to ignore.

wanted to hear your voice

yeah?

i get homesick on the road :/

aw you poor baby

thanks for picking up

sure jsyk u can call whenever, you big baby

ditto

“what are you doing tomorrow?” she asks you, after a session in your room where you’ve finished drilling the different dates of publications into her head with a stupid memorization song.

“i don’t have any plans besides–”

“besides reading books by boring dead dudes,” megan gripes. “some of the older girls are having a party to celebrate making it to the championships. you should come. you can bring your roommates. the house is so close, it’s like a 20 minute walk from the dorms.”

“i’ll think about it,” you smile.

“think about what?” belle’s voice rings out as she enters the room at the perfect time.

“just a small house party. i’ve never seen you out before, y/n,” megan says.

“y/n’s a homebody, but i’ll get her there. send me the details?” belle grins.

you groan as the two exchange numbers, seeming much too devious for your liking. but the night ends, the next day passes by, and you won’t give megan the satisfaction of letting her know how excited you are about this as your uber drops you and your roomies off far later in the night than you’d like to be awake.

minji squints as the music pounds from the house, barely containing the people that you see through each window. the three of you let yourselves in, immediately met by familiar faces.

“i thought you said small?” belle laughs as lara and daniela greet you with hugs.

“dani posted it to her public story instead of her private,” lara snorts. “half the university is here.”

“if my crime is to love being surrounded by beautiful women, fuckin’ arrest me,” dani defends herself, hands in the air.

“y/n.” megan’s voice rings out from behind you. your heart thuds as she stands there smiling, like a puppy wagging its tail. “you made it.”

“take this with me!” dani grins, handing you a cup of god knows what. you haven’t had enough experience to know your tolerance, but you figure you can start with one and go from there. the blonde cheers as the drink disappears down your throat, megan giving you a concerned yet amused look.

“you’ll die if you try to keep up with her,” she laughs. “she’s fucking crazy.”

“thanks for the tip,” you smile back. you see the cup in her hand. “should i keep up with you instead?”

“it’s gatorade,” she grins sheepishly. “i’m play to win, and i don’t like to take risks the week of such a big game. i try not to even let myself get upset. gotta focus, y’know.”

“well let’s pour one out for baby megs,” lara toasts, pouring from a bottle into everyone’s cups. “and y/n, who saved our girl from academic probation!”

“alright lar, not too much now,” megan wrinkles her nose.

you laugh, and her eyes meet yours, a smile behind their warmth. you’re surrounded by some of the most exciting people you’ve ever met, and yet all you want to do is find a quiet corner and talk to this dork. you feel your chest tense with a weight of something, but you shake your head before the thoughts can develop.

“gonna go get another drink,” you excuse yourself quickly. maybe you need something stronger, just for tonight.

you’re in the kitchen pouring yourself something random when the flash of ginger hair catches your attention from the other room. except, megan’s not alone, and there’s a girl standing a bit too close, touching something on megan’s forearm.

your mouth goes dry. you’d spent so long getting to know the side of megan the world doesn’t see, it hadn’t occurred to you that she could still have a bad side to her. is it even a bad side to be flirting with a cute girl at a college party? you swallow a lump in your throat and drink whatever you’ve put in your cup. of course she’s allowed to do what she wants, and that doesn’t make her a bad person.

you look up again, and megan leans down to whisper something in the girl’s ear. the girl laughs a little too hard, touching her arm again in the process. megan’s funny, but there’s no way she’s that funny, and plus, the only person who ever laughs that hard–

you pause. the only person that laughs that hard at her is you.

the shots you took are catching up to you. you race outside to the front yard to try and get some fresh air, accidentally shoving into a guy who’s lingering by the door.

“woah, slow down there,” he snaps.

“please don’t talk to me,” you reply quickly, head still spinning

“don’t come to my house and be rude as shit,” he growls in response. “i’ll stop talking to you when i want to stop talking to you.”

you try to diffuse it by walking away, but he grabs you by the arm to make you look at him. you feel hot tears spring from your eyes. an angry frat boy is the last thing you can handle right now.

“no smartass comebacks? c’mon, push back you little bitch.”

before you can even do anything, she’s there, like a knight in shining armor, the outside of her forearm crushing against his windpipe as she shoves him into the wall. the movement comes easily to megan, no doubt her 15 years of aggression on the ice. her eyes are wide, darker than you’ve ever seen them before.

she barely registers him before those brown eyes come to you. you feel your breath catch in your chest with the way she looks at you.

megan drops him in an instant, instead coming to chase you down.

“i couldn’t think of anything cool to say to scare him.” you realize she’s shaking, her voice quivering. she’s unnerved, but her presence is so so comforting, her rambles are somehow exactly what you need. “i wanted to say ‘i’ll fucking kill you’ and then ‘i’ll kick your ass’ but instead i almost said ‘i’ll fuck your ass.’”

you manage a snort through your tears. somehow, megan makes you laugh even through this.

“‘i’ll fuck your ass’ may have been scarier, actually,” you laugh, sniffling.

“god, y/n.” her brows are knit together in concern. she looks up at the sidewalk, the dorm lights barely visible down the street. “can i make sure you get home okay?”

“it’s so late already, i can’t let you walk back alone.” you shake your head.

“i’m sure as hell not letting you walk alone.” she scoffs, before giving you a nod of reassurance. “dani lives in your building, i’ll sleep at her’s once i’m in the dorm, i have her keycode. please.”

somehow, despite it being god knows how late, you know nothing is going to happen as long as megan is there. she insists on giving you her jacket and as much as you push back, she ignores you and drapes the zip-up over your shoulders anyways. she chats your ear off about how excited she is for friday’s game and before you know it, you’re back in your room, wobbling on unsteady feet through the dorm, grateful your roommates are still partying it up.

“thank you, for everything,” you tell her, watching as you sit on your bed and she quietly unlaces your shoes.

“i owe you a lot, that was nothing.” she shrugs, tossing your shoes into the corner. “if i’m good for anything, i’m good for shoulder checking weirdos.”

you laugh. “hopefully that’s the last time i’ll need your services.”

“you can need me forever,” megan tells you softly, smile on her lips. “i’m here.”

“i judged you so hard when i first met you,” you confess, falling backwards onto your bed. you blink, staring up at the ceiling. “i was so wrong about you.”

“yeah?” she laughs, taking a seat next to you to help put your hair into a bun.

“you’re such a sweetheart,” you sigh, sitting up. your hand brushes a tress of her hair out of her face. “biggest, most thoughtful dork i know.”

“i’m not dorky,” megan furrows her brow. you laugh as her nose scrunches up.

“you were talking to someone, i’m sorry.”

“she was talking to herself and calling it a conversation. i promise, as soon as i saw you walk out, i followed you asap.”

you feel yourself studying her, your heart pressing against your ribcage with something eager to come out.

“i bet you kiss so many girls.” the words spill out of you as the alcohol takes its toll. “how come you’ve never tried to kiss me?”

you see megan’s cheeks flush red, her gaze fixed on the tv as she pulls up a 10 hour dancing fruit video to leave on in the background.

“i don’t kiss that many girls,” she defends herself softly.

“you’re so special. megan the future superstar.” you groan, realizing how fleeting your friendship is. all you’ll probably be is a footnote in her life’s story. you furrow your brows. “i want a kiss from megan the future superstar.”

as drunk as you are, you’re shocked when she seems to comply.

your breath hitches as she leans in. her lips press gently against your temple.

“there.” she whispers, checking down at her phone. “minji and belle will be here soon, okay? good night, y/n.”

she pulls your blanket up over your shoulders and slips into the hallway. you’re too out of it to ask her to stay.

you wake up, and realize someone is in your bed.

you panic for a brief second before you realize that person is playing animal crossing on their switch, completely unbothered by you gaining consciousness. you’ve never been so grateful to see minji before, even if she is smothering you as you cram into the twin sized bed.

“she’s alive,” minji calls out from next to you. belle comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and pulls something out of the mini-fridge for you. a pedialyte in your favorite flavor and some pain relievers.

“thank you,” you sigh to your roommates, feeling your head pound as you sit up and start to chug, swearing off college parties for the rest of your years.

“can’t take credit. your jock left them for you this morning,” belle informs you, a teasing grin.

“oh god, megan,” you wince, recalling your behavior from the night before.

“she wouldn’t go away,” minji complains. “not until i texted her a picture of me in your bed so she knew i was there.”

“she does the same thing when i walk home with y/n from their study dates.” belle says. “just watches us from the doorway until we can’t see her any more.”

“y/n adopted a stray,” minji teases.

“if you say some shit about a bleeding heart, i’ll throw up in your bed specifically,” you threaten belle, and your roommates laugh at you as you let out another groan. you figure skipping class for the first time all semester won’t kill you as you lay back down.

after skipping all your classes, you’re at a table in the dining hall, meal untouched, your focus instead on trying to draft a text to megan that even begins to fix the mess you left behind last night. you’ve been at the same table for at least an hour, trying to figure out how to even start.

“hey, y/ln.” you recognize the voice as dani’s, calling out from behind your booth. “can’t hang?”

“leave her alone, dani.” the voice makes you freeze in place. you didn’t even get a chance to send your text.

“we missed you last night for spin the bottle,” dani grins. “meg had to get it on with that cheerleader.”

despite all the work you did last night to remember megan’s allowed to do what she wants, your stomach drops at dani’s reveal.

“yeah, okay, go away,” megan groans, shooing the blonde. dani complies, and megan sits so you’re alone in the booth together, side by side. she rests her head in her hand on the table. “so…”

“i’m really sorry about all i put you through last night,” you immediately start, feeling the regret press in your ribs.

“you don’t have to be,” she tells you softly, head shaking.

“no, i am.” you insist, realizing how stupid it was of you to think anything would ever come of this. megan doesn’t see you as anything but a tutor, a familiar face at best who she’ll leave behind as soon as she makes it big. “i got so caught up. in the game, the party, the celebration.”

“oh. um, yeah?” she asks quietly.

“you’re not a hockey star to me. you’re just megan.” you furrow your brows. “i’m sorry again for all that.”

you were hoping it would clear things up. but it’s like a cloud comes over megan, her gaze hard and more importantly, avoiding yours.

“no yeah, totally,” she wrinkles her nose, eyes clamping shut. you wonder what’s coming over her and panic that you’ve done something you can’t take back. you try to pivot away quickly.

“your game’s tonight, right?” you ask, but she’s already getting up from the table, gathering her bookbag in her hand.

“megan?” you check in.

“yeah, don’t worry about coming,” she tells you, shaking her head. “i know it’s not your thing.”

and before you can utter a single word more, she’s gone.

you take a couple of hours to try to do homework in the library, but you couldn’t possibly focus. not with megan’s final expression haunting you, the pained scrunch of her nose, her inability to bring herself to look at you. you have a tab open to a youtube livestream of the game that you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from.

“you look constipated,” minji says plainly as you get back to the dorm.

“you are such a-” you stop yourself. you’re not angry at minji, you’re angry at yourself. no need to take out a civilian in the crossfire. you suck in a deep breath and try again. “minji, please be nice to me for once. i’m having a shit day.”

“cheer up.” she says so devoid of emotion, you wonder if she was dropped as a baby. but then she’s handing you a card, in handwriting familiar to you but definitely not minji’s own. “your puppy dog gave this to me when we got coffee.”

your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “you got coffee together? today? since when do you hang out?”

“when you were passed out this morning. and i said she was determined, not that i didn’t like her.” you’ll never understand how this girl’s brain works. “anyways, letter, for you.”

you want to ask so many more questions, but a lightbulb goes off as you try to think about the web of connections at this university.

“and your friendship has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been admiring her roommate from afar with absolutely zero rizz to approach her with? are you trying to have her put in a good word?”

you would pay to watch minji’s demeanor crack like this again.

“wah, shut up. you spread lies on my good name.” she shakes her head furiously, but nothing ever triggers minji, so you know you’ve hit a soft spot when she gets this worked up. “megan is…”

“the closest you’re ever going to get to danielle marsh,” you burst out laughing.

“shut up and read your letter.”

you open the envelope and a ticket falls out. today’s date, 7pm, the championship game at your university ice arena.

y/n. i wrote this by hand and took my time. thank you for everything this semester. i think meeting you was my favorite part of this year. i’m grateful you saw me, the way you really saw me. hope that makes sense. hanging out with you felt like being a book that someone finally took off the shelf and opened up. hope to see you at my big game. i saved you a seat by the box, so you can help me study in between plays.

– megan

ps. just kidding about the studying thing, don’t you dare bring a book into my sacred space. anyways, thanks again.

“minji, i think i fucked up,” you breathe quietly. how unfair to keep judging megan when this whole time, she’s shown you exactly who she is. was it easier to say megan was this or that in order to soothe your own confused feelings? who did it ultimately hurt in the end?

“what would belle say?” the girl asks. “go bleed your heart out or whatever.”

you don’t correct her. it’s honestly the perfect advice.

you check your phone and see the game is at halftime, and they’re down 0-2. the stadium is on the other side of campus, but you remember megan’s words from the party. she doesn’t even try to let herself feel upset the week of a game, and there you are on the night of her team’s championship game, being the worst friend possible to her.

your heart races, then aches. you have to make this right, the sooner the better. you order an uber and pray this is the right call.

you race into the stadium and realize it’s absolutely packed with thousands of people, and thunderously loud. it looks like a professional stadium, even at the college level. the game is tied now, 2-2, but you remember enough of what megan’s told you to recognize that they’ve gone into overtime. next to score wins.

you stumble hurriedly down the steps before you make it to the front row. just as the note said, there’s an open seat directly in front of the player box. you see the flash of ginger hair from under a helmet, hunched over on the bench as she watches the play, clearly nervous. you lock your gaze on her and run up to the plexiglass wall.

there’s a tiny slot in the glass, usually where the players hand a dead puck or a broken stick through the slot to an eager fan, but you’re too desperate to get a hold of megan that you yell to her through it, hoping she can hear you over all the noise.

“megan!”

she looks around confusedly, before turning around to see you against the glass.

“y/n?”

“you deserve so much more than an apology, but i can at least start with saying i’m sorry,” you know the confession is terrible timing wise, but you’ll never live with yourself if you don’t get it off your chest, especially on such an important night for megan. “i’ve been so horrible to you, assuming all the worst, and you’ve been nothing but an angel to me. ugh, i just…i feel so stupid, because i know how this ends, and i don’t want to get hurt, but i feel like i’ll regret it if i don’t say something.”

“how this ends?” you see megan’s brows furrow together underneath her face guard. “y/n, i could never even dream of hurting you.”

“you didn’t want to kiss me,” you remind her, but you don’t want it to feel like a guilt trip. “and that’s okay, i just know that changed a lot and-”

“because you were drunk.” she cuts you off, shaking her head quickly, her nose wrinkling as she clamps her eyes shut. “that’s- it’s just- fuck.”

“what?” you ask, but before you can finish, daniela slams into the player box and leans in towards megan.

“kazuha’s getting killed out there. she needs a stronger center out, coach is gonna put you in,” dani yells over the roar of the crowd, reaching over to grab a fast sip of water. she shoots a look at you, then a warning glare at megan to wrap it up. “30 seconds.”

“y/n—“

30 seconds is all you need. you won’t waste your shot.

“megan, i really like you. as in, really like you.” you feel the hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you finally hear the words out loud. “as in, i think i’m falling for you, which is so scary. i’m sorry for messing up our friendship. these feelings are way too huge for me to push away. knowing you was amazing and i don’t want you thinking for a second that it wasn’t.”

“skiendiel, in for center. push up and get that puck into that damn net!” coach yells, tapping the back of the ginger’s helmet to get her attention.

megan gives you a look, your confession hanging in the air, before she leaps over the door and back onto the ice.

she’s so insanely fast. you don’t have to know hockey to know she’s zipping circles around the other team, their yells of frustration loud and clear as megan swipes in to intercept pass after pass.

she’s so focused. you watch in awe.

dani is yelling something to which kazuha nods, dropping her shoulders to book it towards megan. megan uses their proximity to take the pass, running the puck once more up the ice. the defense of the other team are playing dirty, a high stick to the eye immediately taking daniela flat down onto the ice. lara calls for a foul from her spot in the goalie’s box, but the ref didn’t see it, so the play goes on at break-neck speed.

despite the chaos, megan is locked in to what she needs to do.

she spits the puck back out in a blazing pass back to kazuha, spinning off an incoming check from another player. she eyes the goal for a split moment, the clock trickling down into its final seconds, before kazuha’s pass is already blasting towards her.

megan shows no hesitation. she checks a defense into the wall before spinning off, stick lifting into the air to take the most perfect shot off kazuha’s pass.

your breath catches in your throat as the puck seems to suspend in air, everything going in slow motion. then, your eyes meet, in the middle of it all.

the goal lights up red just as the buzzer hits. the entire stadium erupts into a deafening roar as you watch megan get swarmed by her entire team. final score 3-2.

they’re cheering as a team, but you see the flash of ginger hair as a helmet comes off and a body starts skating back towards you. you move to the tunnel, where megan comes off the ice and can finally be face to face with you. she’s breathing heavy, stray hairs clinging to her face through the sweat.

“i didn’t kiss you that night because i wanted it to be perfect.” megan’s still catching her breath, but she seems desperate to clear her name. you feel frozen in front of her, but she presses on earnestly. “i didn’t want it to be another kiss with a random stranger i’d forget about in a week. i’ve spent too much time thinking about kissing you. i didn’t want it to be anything less than perfect for you.”

“i’m crazy about you, y/n,” she gasps breathlessly, arm wrapping around your waist without hesitation. “i like everything about you. i like you so much it scares me.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” is all you can manage, shaking your head in disbelief.

“are you serious?” megan lets out a high pitched laugh. “look at you. you’re the most brilliant, incredible, hilarious, kind person i know. i didn’t think i stood a chance. i’m nowhere near cool enough or smart enough to think i was good enough to talk to you, let alone getting to be your friend. it was so worth it to just be your friend. i would have been happy with that forever.”

you feel your head spin. megan thinks all this about you?

“i literally asked you to kiss me,” you press, confused about how it could have been misread.

“i didn’t think you were being weird about me being popular. when you cleared that up, my next thought was that you were pitying me, like how you pity-tutored me.” she confesses. “i overthought and it messed me up. i’m sorry.”

“if you don’t just damn kiss already,” lara barks at you guys as the team starts to trickle off the ice and into the tunnel, daniela grinning teasingly right behind her as she ices her eye. you wince at how bad her eye looks following that high stick, but then you realize what she’s teasing you about.

you look back at megan, those perfect brown eyes searching for something in yours. you can’t possibly understand how someone who just won her team a national championship can still seem so hesitant.

“may i?” she tilts her head eagerly.

“oh my god, asking permission after all that.” you groan and wrap your arms around her neck, head reeling from all that’s just unfolded. “megan, you chivalrous loser, i swear to god.”

she grins something so angelic, you choose to forgive her.

and the kiss she gives you, gentle yet eager, her arms wrapping around your waist to anchor you in place, is so, so perfect. so insanely worth the wait.

you walk into your 11am intro to british literature class that tuesday, door held open for you by your chivalrous loser.

sophia’s grading papers at the professor’s desk when eyes drop to your hands (your interlaced, holding-hands-with-megan hands) and smiles at you so giddily, you can’t help but smile back at her just as big. she’s never going to let you live this down.

dani and lara sit in the row directly behind you guys, hooting and making kissy noises to taunt their younger teammate. you won’t admit how much these idiots have grown on you.

megan’s arm snakes behind your shoulders as she leans back in her seat next to you. her laptop is already out, open to a new document. you’re so insanely proud of her for her determination.

you’re too busy admiring her to realize you’re staring, and by the time you’re aware, she’s side-eyeing you.

“eyes on your own paper, cheater.”

“oh my god, class hasn’t even started yet. you literally haven’t even typed anything.”

her fingers quickly hit the keyboard, a few strokes before she turns the computer to face you.

i <3 my super cool gf

girlfriend. your heart races at the memory of how you made it official over the weekend after being her date to all the celebratory dinners. you smile and type something back.

i <3 my dorky sweet gf

megan won’t ever let you catch a break. “oh, so you get to be cool and i’m just a dork again?”

“my dork now,” you remind her.

“you’re on thin ice,” she rolls her eyes. “you’ll have to take me on a date to make up for it.”

she reaches forward to take your hand in hers, letting them dangle between the desks. you give her hand a gentle squeeze. she peers at you from the corner of her eye, scrunches her nose, and re-focuses on the board as the professor sets up his presentation.

this stupid letterman jacket you’ve always talked shit about is actually kinda warm. at least, you like it a whole lot better when you’re the one wearing it.

“i like you so much,” you breathe quietly as the lecture begins.

she smiles eagerly, bringing your hand up to plant a kiss along your knuckles. she’s been so open about her affection for you, you feel like you’re in a dream.

“the guy is trying to teach,” she chastizes you, and you roll your eyes at the change in roles. the way she looks at you tells you she has so, so much to say, and your heart pounds as she focuses back on the lecture. your responsible girl.

she doesn’t leave you hanging, however, adding a final thought.

“but yeah, ditto.”

#megan skiendiel x reader #megan skiendiel #katseye x reader #megan skiendel imagine #megan x reader #katseye #katseye megan #megan katseye #☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous - ditto.

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